Let Me Go, Mr. Howard Chapter 11

The design department's meeting room was suffocatingly tense.

Director Peter Edwards stood before the projection screen, clutching a document, his fingertips pale as if holding something too hot to handle. Scarlett sat by the window, twirling a pen between her fingers, her eyes on her notebook. It contained the final detailed sketches for the "Starlight" design exhibition runway show that she had worked on overnight.

She didn't notice Peter's gaze repeatedly drifting toward her with hesitant uncertainty.

Peter cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "I have a personnel announcement to make today."

All eyes turned to him, including Scarlett's. She looked up, a vague sense of foreboding settling in her chest.

"By headquarters' decision," Peter's voice was dry, his eyes quickly scanning over Scarlett before darting away, "Scarlett Seymour is relieved of her position as design department manager and reassigned as assistant manager."

Her pen dropped onto the table, creating a small ink blot on her sketches. Scarlett froze, wondering if she'd misheard.

"Mr. Edwards, what did you say?" she asked instinctively, her voice tightening.

Peter avoided her gaze, reading from the document, "The new design department manager will be Ms. Edith Seymour, who has extensive connections in the fashion industry that will better promote the department's development."

"Edith Seymour?"

"Is that the Seymour family daughter?"

"Does she know anything about design?"

Whispers spread through the room—surprise, confusion, and a few lingering glances at Scarlett, some sympathetic, others gloating.

Scarlett's fingers gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white. 

She had been with this company for three years, starting as an intern fetching coffee, working countless all-nighters, winning three industry gold awards, and personally transforming the nearly-disbanded design department into the company's star division.

Now, with one casual "headquarters' decision," she was demoted to assistant manager, replaced by Edith who couldn't tell the difference between a design sketch and a shopping list.

"Whose decision was this?" Scarlett stood up, her voice quiet but instantly silencing the entire room. "Which executive at headquarters approved this?"

Beads of sweat formed on Peter's forehead. He stammered before finally managing, "It was... Mr. Howard personally approved it."

Mr. Howard. Sebastian.

The name struck like an ice pick through Scarlett's heart. She should have known. Who else in this Howard Group-controlled company could make such an absurd decision?

He hadn't even bothered with a plausible excuse, just brazenly installed Edith above her, as if flaunting something, or perhaps punishing her.

Scarlett slowly sat down, picking up her pen, her fingertips trembling with tension. She stared at the ink blot on her sketch—an ugly scar, much like her current state of mind.

"Meeting adjourned." Peter left the room almost like he was escaping.

Her colleagues filed out one by one. Some wanted to offer comfort, but her cold gaze kept them at bay. Finally, only Scarlett remained in the meeting room. 

Sunlight streamed through the window, casting dappled shadows across her figure, yet it couldn't warm the chill that had settled deep in her bones.

Returning to what was once her office, she found her belongings already packed up. She was informed that the assistant manager's office was elsewhere.

"Elsewhere" turned out to be a small cubicle partitioned from the former break room, with an old desk in a corner by the window where even sunlight seemed reluctant to reach.

Just as Scarlett finished moving her things, her phone vibrated with a message from Chris: [Heard you got demoted? What the hell is Sebastian playing at? Has he lost his mind?]

Reading those words, Scarlett's eyes suddenly burned with emotion. Chris was always like this—the first to notice when something was wrong, the first to stand by her side.

Her fingers hovered over the screen, typing and deleting, before finally replying with just: [It's fine.]

But it wasn't fine at all. That position had cost her three years of blood and sweat. It was the only place outside the Seymour family where she could prove her worth. Now, with just a word from Sebastian, it was all destroyed.

What was he trying to do? Was he pleasing Edith? Or did he feel she had crossed a line at the party, and this was his way of humiliating her?

Scarlett rested her head on the desk, burying her face in the crook of her arm. The old desk had a musty wood smell, reminiscent of the attic, making her feel suffocated.

---

At three in the afternoon, Edith finally sauntered into the company.

She wore a Chanel suit and carried an Hermès bag, followed by two assistants—one holding afternoon tea, the other carrying flowers—with all the pomp of a queen on inspection.

She walked straight to Scarlett's cubicle and looked down at her with a mocking smile. "The assistant manager is still hard at work, I see?"

Scarlett raised her head, her eyes emotionless. "Can I help you, Ms. Seymour?"

"Can't I just check in on you?" Edith gestured for her assistant to place a cup of coffee on Scarlett's desk. The cup landed with a heavy thud. "I specially ordered this Blue Mountain coffee to keep you alert. We're colleagues now—you'll need to support me well. Don't drag me down."

Her gaze fell on the design sketches on Scarlett's desk, and she scoffed. "Still drawing these? Don't bother. From now on, I'll set the department's direction. You just handle the grunt work—filing papers and such."

Scarlett ignored her, taking a tissue to wipe the coffee spill from her desk.

Seeing no reaction, Edith grew bored, then seemed to remember something. 

She leaned down and spoke in a voice only the two of them could hear, "By the way, next week I'm going to Cartier to select an engagement ring. You'll accompany me."

She straightened up, her tone returning to that imperious command, "You'll carry my bags and help me try on different styles."

"I'm busy," Scarlett gathered up her sketches, her voice cold as ice. "I have work to do."

"Work?" Edith laughed, taking out her phone and opening her chat with Sebastian, deliberately turning the screen toward Scarlett. "Look at this."

On the screen was Sebastian's reply, a brief sentence carrying undeniable authority: [Make her go.]

It had been sent ten minutes ago. So she didn't even have the right to refuse.

Scarlett stared at those words, feeling as if an invisible hand was squeezing her heart, making it hard to breathe. Something lodged in her throat, dry and tight, preventing her from uttering a single word.

Edith put her phone away, her face nearly overflowing with smugness. "Did you see that? Seb has spoken. Do you still dare to refuse?"

She poked Scarlett's arm with her fingertip, her tone laced with malicious reminder, "Don't forget, you're just an assistant manager now. If you make me unhappy, you might not even keep that position."