Chapter 311: Chapter 311: Do You Take Me for a Three-Year-Old?
As soon as she spoke, a few senior colleagues laughed. "Loads of people have tried. You think getting a journalist license is that easy? Right now, Hanson is the only person at our agency who has one."
Phoebe Lockwood was confused. "But I heard our agency gets one slot every year?"
"And you think having a slot means you’ll automatically pass the assessment from the higher-ups? If you can’t pass, the slot is useless. They want genuinely talented people, not just someone to fill the quota."
"Well, I sign up every year, and I get rejected every year. I don’t even know when the assessment takes place, haha... I’m over it by now."
"Same here. They say it’s a random assessment, but in reality, no one has any idea how it’s conducted. We’ve never even seen the exam questions."
Everyone chimed in, but the general consensus was that getting a journalist license was next to impossible.
Claire Sinclair looked at Henry Hartwell curiously. "Teacher Hartwell, how did you pass the assessment?"
Henry Hartwell gave a mysterious smile. "Once you successfully register, you’ll find out."
’Fine, don’t tell me then.’
Claire Sinclair had already made up her mind. Even if getting a journalist license was next to impossible, she had to give it a try. Besides, she was just a rookie; there was no shame in failing.
When Henry Hartwell returned to his office, Claire immediately asked him for the registration link. She filled in her name, and the registration went through successfully.
Next, she would have to wait for the review process. Claire had no idea what the screening criteria were, and she figured Teacher Hartwell wouldn’t answer if she asked. All she could do was wait patiently.
...
「The Editor-in-Chief’s Office.」
Just as Henry Hartwell was about to turn on his computer, his phone suddenly rang.
The caller ID read: Ms. Quincy.
’What could Mrs. Quincy want with me?’
Henry Hartwell answered the call, his curiosity piqued. "Mrs. Quincy."
Mrs. Quincy’s polite voice came from the other end of the line. "Hall, am I interrupting your work by calling now?"
’She’s being so polite. She must want a favor.’
Henry Hartwell remained polite. "Not at all, Mrs. Quincy. Is there something you need?"
"Well, here’s the situation. Yara did something wrong recently and made her brother furious. Adrian is so angry he’s going to sue her. If he wins, Yara could be facing ten years in prison."
"That’s serious. What did Yara do?"
’For The Great Demon King Quincy to actually file a lawsuit, it must be a disaster that no one can fix.’
Henry Hartwell was a smart man. He knew there was absolutely no way he could help with something like this, but he was polite enough not to refuse immediately, waiting patiently for Mrs. Quincy to finish.
"Sigh..." Mrs. Quincy let out a long breath. "You know how impulsive our Yara is. A while ago, she pushed Claire Sinclair... and, well, the push caused a miscarriage. Adrian is livid, but Yara knows she was wrong..."
Henry Hartwell barely heard a single word she said after that.
’Claire Sinclair... had a miscarriage...’
’When did this happen?’
’That’s right... she asked for sick leave a while back. But I was away on business and never even called to check on her.’
’When she came back to work, I even wondered why she had suddenly lost so much weight.’
’So that’s why? A miscarriage?’
Heh...
Henry Hartwell laughed coldly, cutting Mrs. Quincy off before she could finish. "Mrs. Quincy, do you have any idea what a miscarriage means for a woman? It isn’t just physical and emotional trauma; it’s a pain that lasts a lifetime. You say she ’pushed’ her, and that simple push caused a miscarriage? Do you take me for a three-year-old?"
"No, Hall, please listen to me—"
