I Married the President-Chapter 80: Heh, We’ll See

Just as she was lost in thought, Editor-in-Chief Summers suddenly said sternly, "Next time you have a private itinerary with Governor Lockwood, you are to inform us in advance. Otherwise, it interferes with our work."

Phoebe Lockwood, who had been basking in her moment of glory, was suddenly reprimanded to her face by her direct superior. She was instantly overcome with embarrassment.

Editor-in-Chief Summers turned to Claire Sinclair, her tone softening. "Claire, tomorrow you’ll take Lockwood’s place on the protocol team. The uniform and shoes are in my office. Come get them before you leave for the day."

Suddenly being singled out, Claire Sinclair was a bit overwhelmed by the unexpected favor. But her insecurity got the better of her, and she asked worriedly, "Editor-in-Chief Summers, I don’t have any experience on a protocol team. Will that be a problem?"

Editor-in-Chief Summers replied with a calm expression, "You just have to stand still and keep smiling. It’s not difficult."

Just as Claire Sinclair was about to speak, she was rudely interrupted by Phoebe Lockwood. "If Claire Sinclair is on the protocol team, then who will be on duty in the office tomorrow?"

Editor-in-Chief Summers slowly turned her head. As her gaze fell on Phoebe Lockwood, a hint of displeasure surfaced, and her tone grew heavier.

"This isn’t something for a newcomer like you to worry about. And while we’re on the subject, I’d like to offer a special reminder to certain people: it doesn’t matter if your father is a governor or the president. We are all here to serve the public. The Astoria Daily has never been anyone’s personal tool. If you don’t learn some restraint, don’t blame me for getting harsh."

Although she didn’t name anyone explicitly, the target of her words was perfectly clear.

As the editor-in-chief of the Astoria Daily, Editor-in-Chief Summers’s years of experience had cultivated a formidable presence—the kind of audacity that refused to bow to power.

Phoebe Lockwood’s heart skipped a beat. She actually felt a flicker of fear, clearly intimidated.

Everyone else kept their heads down. No one dared to look at Editor-in-Chief Summers’s face, afraid of getting caught in the crossfire.

Only Claire Sinclair looked at Editor-in-Chief Summers, her expression one of shock, her eyes filled with respect.

’I can’t believe there’s another powerhouse in the office besides Teacher Hartwell who isn’t afraid of authority. What Editor-in-Chief Summers just said was so awesome, hahaha...’

’Look at that defeated expression on Phoebe Lockwood’s face. She must be fuming.’

’This time, it’s Editor-in-Chief Summers. I’d like to see if Phoebe Lockwood dares to make a move on her!’

...

After the meeting, Claire Sinclair returned to her desk.

She had just sat down when Phoebe Lockwood walked over and said menacingly, "Claire Sinclair, don’t think Editor-in-Chief Summers is giving you this opportunity because she values you. She’s just making you stand on the protocol team. You won’t even get a chance to speak with President Helmanro!"

Claire Sinclair stared at her face as if looking at an idiot and said with amusement, "I’m not you. You make it sound as if I have a lot I want to say to the president..."

Phoebe Lockwood was speechless.

She considered meeting a foreign president a glorious affair, yet her rival didn’t seem to care at all. It felt like punching a wad of cotton.

"Heh, we’ll see about that!" After spitting out her threat, Phoebe Lockwood turned and walked away.

’Idiot,’ Claire Sinclair cursed inwardly before getting back to her work.

Before she knew it, she had worked overtime until after eight o’clock.

By the time Claire Sinclair took the bus back to the gates of Evergreen Garden, it was already past nine.

A gust of cold wind blew, and Claire Sinclair couldn’t help but shiver. It seemed the temperature had dropped. She quickened her pace, wanting only to get home, take a hot shower, and fall into bed.

When she reached her front door and took out her keys to open it, a beam of light suddenly shot out from behind, casting her shadow onto the door.

She turned to look and saw a familiar sedan pulling into the courtyard.

It was Adrian Quincy’s private car. He was back!

Claire Sinclair turned around mechanically. The headlights shone directly into her eyes, and she instinctively raised a hand to shield them.

Only when the lights dimmed did she lower her hand.