I Married the President-Chapter 74: A Matter of Principle

’Yeah, right. Even if she didn’t give the last box to Teacher Hartwell, wouldn’t she use it herself?’

’Does she take me for some naive, helpless fool...?’

Claire Sinclair responded graciously, "That one’s for Teacher Hartwell. I can’t give it to you, sorry. Maybe next time."

Phoebe Lockwood’s face instantly darkened. ’That damn bitch! She must have deliberately not saved one for me!’

’Who at Astoria Daily dares to disrespect me? Only this shameless bitch!’

Claire Sinclair couldn’t be bothered with the governor’s daughter’s sour expression. She just went back to her own desk, picked up the last box of face masks, and went to find Teacher Hartwell.

She searched the entire editorial department and finally found Henry Hartwell in the records room.

Claire Sinclair held the masks out to him. "Teacher Hartwell, these are the face masks Linda gave us. I’ve already passed them out to everyone else, and this last box is for you."

Henry Hartwell glanced at the masks and chuckled. "What’s a guy like me going to do with face masks? You should take them for yourself."

"I rarely use them..."

"A young woman should still pamper herself a bit. Go on, take them. You deserve a treat."

"..."

Claire Sinclair was suddenly at a loss for words.

He didn’t want them, and she couldn’t just force them on him, so she had no choice but to take the box back.

"Well, Teacher Hartwell, I’ll get back to work then." With that, she turned to leave.

Henry Hartwell called out to her, "Wait."

Claire Sinclair stopped. "Is there something else, Teacher Hartwell?"

Henry Hartwell stared at a stack of documents, asking casually, "When Linda said she was giving you a gift, you didn’t really need to ask me. Why didn’t you just secretly take it for yourself?" 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

Without a second thought, Claire Sinclair answered bluntly, "It’s a matter of principle. Besides, it’s not like I’m lacking for cosmetics."

"’A matter of principle.’ Well said. You can get back to work now."

"..."

Claire Sinclair felt a bit baffled as she turned and walked out.

Once the door closed, a pleased smile touched Henry Hartwell’s lips. "As expected of her sister. She’s got potential, too."

...

Perhaps because Claire Sinclair had handed out the face masks, her afternoon was much easier. Aside from running a few errands, almost no one gave her a hard time anymore.

However, she had only eaten a piece of bread for lunch, and by the time work ended, she was completely exhausted.

After finally making it to quitting time, Claire Sinclair was asked to stay behind and organize documents. She was busy until it was dark before she finally finished.

The office was long empty. Claire Sinclair turned off the lights, walked to the elevators, and took out her phone to check the time. She saw a message that had arrived five minutes earlier.

Adrian Quincy: Not off work yet?

Claire Sinclair’s heart tightened, and she hurriedly replied: Just got off. Heading home now.

Adrian Quincy: It’s late. Wait for me at the office.

Huh?

Claire Sinclair couldn’t help but ask: You’re coming to pick me up?

Adrian Quincy: I’m nearby.

Claire: Oh.

’So he was just in the neighborhood. And here I thought he was making a special trip to pick me up. I was really getting ahead of myself.’

Claire Sinclair went back inside the building and waited for seven or eight minutes before she got a call from him. She quickly hurried downstairs.

Adrian Quincy’s private car was parked outside the building. Claire Sinclair walked up to it and, out of habit, got into the back seat.

Only after she was in the car did she realize that Adrian Quincy was also in the back. Aiden Howkins was driving.

’I would’ve sat in the front if I’d known...’

Claire Sinclair wasn’t used to sitting so close to him, so she shifted a little closer to the door.

Adrian Quincy asked in a low voice, "Busy day today?"

"Mhm, a little."

"How are you finding it?"

Claire Sinclair couldn’t help but glance at his face. ’He’s actually interested in my work?’

’It’s probably just small talk,’ she thought. She didn’t think she held any real importance to him, so her answer was somewhat perfunctory. "It’s... fulfilling."