I Married the President-Chapter 127: Not Playing by the Book

Henry Hartwell stroked his chin, pondering for a long while, then suddenly changed his tune. "Alright, I’ll go with you."

Claire Sinclair: "..."

’This guy, he never plays by the book!’ 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

"Teacher Hartwell, didn’t you say you weren’t going?"

"If I don’t go, you’ll walk in on your own two feet and crawl out on your hands and knees."

"..."

’That’s an exaggeration, right...?’

Henry Hartwell had lost the mood to write any more articles. He looked up at her. "Do you have an evening gown?"

Claire Sinclair honestly shook her head.

Henry Hartwell frowned. "If you go without an evening gown, you probably won’t even get into the venue."

Claire Sinclair subconsciously thought of a "No Entry for Improperly Dressed Guests" sign. ’If I go, I’ll just be setting myself up for humiliation!’

"Teacher Hartwell, why don’t you just go by yourself? I don’t dare to go..."

"If you don’t go, what’s the point of me going? It’d be boring."

"Then what if neither of us goes?"

Henry Hartwell watched her as if enjoying a show, his eyes seeming to say, ’You think that’s an option?’

The answer, of course, was no.

Since the client had extended an invitation, if neither of them went, it would be the same as Astoria Daily burning its bridges with them.

Claire Sinclair was screaming ’no’ on the inside, but she said dejectedly, "Teacher Hartwell, I’ve been working for so long and haven’t even gotten my intern’s salary. Where would I get the money for an evening gown? Even if I bought one online, it wouldn’t arrive in time, unless I go to a night market."

Henry Hartwell rolled his eyes at her. "A simple evening gown is only ten or twenty thousand. You have that much, don’t you?"

Claire Sinclair nodded. "I do."

"Go buy one tonight. If you don’t have enough money, I do. I can lend you some."

"No need, I have enough!"

"Alright, then let’s call it a day. Emmm..." Henry Hartwell stood up, stretching lazily, his eyes even watering a bit. He couldn’t care less about his image.

Claire Sinclair had an indescribable feeling in her heart. In the end, she just said, "Goodbye," and walked out of the archives room.

As she reached the doorway, she happened to see Phoebe Lockwood walking past outside.

Phoebe Lockwood stopped, turned to face her, and forced a fake smile. "Claire Sinclair, I heard you’re going to the M2L 10th anniversary gala. This is a great opportunity. Make sure you perform well, and don’t embarrass our paper, okay?"

After saying those meaningless words, she left.

Claire Sinclair was completely baffled. ’Is this woman just trying to make her presence known?’

...

「That night.」

Claire Sinclair rummaged through her entire closet but couldn’t find a single thing suitable for a gala. ’Am I really going to have to spend ten or twenty thousand on an evening gown?’

Spending twenty thousand just for some stupid gala—she must have rocks in her head. She really didn’t want to go.

Claire Sinclair picked up her phone, thinking of telling Editor-in-Chief Summers she wasn’t going. But after a moment’s hesitation, she put it back down.

’If I don’t go, it’ll reflect poorly on the paper. I should just go.’

The urgent task now was to hurry out and buy an evening gown. If it got too late, she wouldn’t dare go out by herself.

She stuffed her phone into her bag and got ready to leave.

But when she reached the door, the heavens had other plans—it had started to rain.

Claire Sinclair looked up at the sky. She hadn’t wanted to go out in the first place. Since it was raining, it must be a sign from the heavens. God didn’t want her to go out, so how could she defy His will?

So, she wasn’t going to buy it.

Claire Sinclair turned and walked back into the living room. The evening gown, or whatever, could wait until tomorrow.

Just as she was about to head upstairs, her phone suddenly rang.

Claire Sinclair took out her phone and looked. The caller ID read: Adrian Quincy.

’It’s so late. Why is he calling me?’

She answered the call. "Mr. Quincy, good evening!"

The man’s voice, as rich and pleasant as a cello, came from the other end of the line. "Where are you going so late at night?"