Chapter 237: Chapter 237: The Frustration of Dual Roles
The dream continued, the scene so real and clear it was as if it had happened only yesterday.
The Lancaster Group, the outer office of the President’s suite.
The sweltering afternoon air hung stagnant. A few slivers of sunlight, sliced by the blinds, slipped through and landed squarely on Wren Sutton’s file-covered desk.
A last-minute briefing on a cross-border merger and acquisition, which urgently needed its key points summarized, filled both of her monitors. A dense wall of data and clauses flickered before her eyes.
Beside her, a Class-A partnership agreement, just rushed over from the legal department, sat heavy atop a stack of pending documents.
A note was scrawled in red pen on the bottom right corner of the cover: "Sync with President Lancaster after filing. Must be ready before the meeting."
Wren Sutton’s gaze swept rapidly over the dense directory of folders on the screen.
The company’s electronic filing system had a formal but slightly dated interface, with a tree directory that expanded layer by layer.
The two adjacent category labels, "Marketing Department Strategic Partnerships" and "Group Equity Transactions," highlighted as her mouse hovered over them.
Wren’s fingertips paused. The agreement involved both a deep market-level integration and complex equity swap clauses.
’Which category does it fall under?’
Wren hesitated.
The intercom was within arm’s reach, connecting directly to Adrian Lancaster’s office inside.
’Asking him would only take three seconds.’
But Adrian was currently in a final pre-meeting discussion with the legal director; his voice was faintly audible through the heavy door.
’Was such a trivial question about filing worth bothering him over?’
That split-second of hesitation was mixed with an indescribable personal apprehension.
Wren didn’t want to appear unprofessional in front of Adrian, especially at a time when their roles so delicately overlapped.
Her fingertips hovered over the mouse for two seconds before, acting on a split-second judgment, she dragged the critical document into the "Marketing Department Strategic Partnerships" virtual folder.
The system chimed softly, confirming the file had been archived.
...
Five minutes before the video conference was scheduled to start, the red light on the intercom lit up, and Adrian Lancaster’s steady voice came through.
"The Logan Group agreement that legal finalized last week. Project it onto the main screen immediately. I need to directly reference the clauses in Appendix Three at the start of the meeting."
"Understood, President Lancaster."
Wren replied, her fingers already flying across the keyboard, typing in search keywords.
The first time, nothing.
She tried a more precise clause number. The second time, still nothing.
Her eyes darted over every possible file path she could remember. Her heart began to race uncontrollably, and a fine sheen of cold sweat broke out on her forehead, feeling especially frigid in the well-air-conditioned room.
Time evaporated, second by second, in the suffocating silence.
She could picture Adrian waiting in the inner office, perhaps glancing at his watch, his brows likely furrowed in a slight frown.
The connection was about to go live. The directors in Europe were already online, waiting.
Finally, just a moment before the video signal connected, Adrian’s calm command came from the inner office.
"Never mind, just start the call."
The screen lit up. Adrian Lancaster appeared in the center of the frame, dressed in a crisp, dark suit, his expression as composed as ever.
After the initial pleasantries from the other party, he didn’t mention the missing file. Instead, relying on his astonishing memory of the agreement’s details, he calmly took control of the meeting with a concise but hard-hitting set of talking points.
His logic was tight, his data clear. He single-handedly stabilized their position from a seemingly passive start and gradually began to lead the pace of the discussion.
On the screen, the other party’s chief representative broke into an appreciative smile and nodded slightly upon hearing a precise recitation of a key concession point.
That smile made Wren want to crawl into a hole more than any reprimand ever could.
In that moment, she felt she was not only a secretary who had failed in her duties, but also a wife who had become a burden to her husband.
The sense of failure from both roles felt like cold vines tightening around her heart.
...
In the debriefing that followed, the atmosphere was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
The long, rectangular walnut conference table gleamed with a cold light.
The relevant department heads—from administration, legal, and marketing—took turns recounting the incident and their observations.
No one blamed Wren Sutton directly, but the fleeting glances that passed over her were all filled with cold scrutiny and unspoken dissatisfaction.
A stifling silence filled the air, where the occasional, soft rustle of paper sounded jarring.
Wren sat just to the side of Adrian, staring at the still-blank page of the notebook in front of her. Her fingertips unconsciously dug into her palm, leaving several crescent-shaped red marks.
Shame, mixed with an indefinable sense of grievance, churned in her stomach.
She wasn’t even sure what she feared more: a stern, professional reprimand, or seeing even a flicker of disappointment in Adrian’s unfathomable eyes.
Adrian, at the head of the table, didn’t glance at Wren once from beginning to end.
After listening to everyone’s reports, he leaned back slightly, his long fingers tapping the polished surface of the table twice, neither too lightly nor too heavily.
The crisp sound was startling in the silence, carrying an effortless authority that instantly tensed the nerves of everyone present.
"First," he began, his voice even and unreadable, yet it held a tone-setting power that immediately captured everyone’s attention.
"This incident has exposed a gray area in the cross-referencing logic of our current filing system. The category boundaries are not clear enough, which leads to inefficiency and potential risks during urgent retrievals."
His gaze slowly swept over the manager of the administration department.
"The administration department will submit a detailed system optimization proposal by next Monday, focusing on two key requirements."
"First, the feasibility of multi-attribute tagging, allowing a single document to be associated with multiple core categories."
"Second, an evaluation for developing a smart associative search function that supports deep matching between keywords and clause content. The technology department will coordinate."
In just a few sentences, he had precisely shifted the root of the problem from personal error to a flaw in the tools supporting the business.
His professional demeanor and tightly-reasoned attribution subtly and effectively deflected the scrutiny and doubt that might have otherwise focused on Wren.
The conference room was silent.
The department heads quickly exchanged glances.
’President Lancaster’s stance is clear. This is a system issue, and it has nothing to do with Secretary Sutton.’
Everyone present was a seasoned veteran; they could all see that President Lancaster was blatantly protecting Wren. No one would be foolish enough to press the issue of her mistake at a time like this.
The administration manager immediately stood up, his attitude deferential.
"Understood, President Lancaster. I’ll organize a special task force to prioritize this as soon as the meeting is over."
Adrian nodded, his gaze returning to the notepad in front of him.
"As for the specific details and follow-up for this misfiling incident," he paused briefly, his eyes finally turning to Wren.
"Secretary Sutton, come to my office after the meeting to explain in detail."
"Yes, President Lancaster," Wren replied in a low voice, feeling as though she were sitting on pins and needles. Her cheeks burned, and she was too embarrassed to look up.
"Meeting adjourned." Adrian closed his notebook and was the first to rise, leaving the conference room with steady steps.
Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief, gathering their things and filing out.
As they passed by Wren, their gazes were complicated—some sympathetic, others probing—but they all maintained a tacit, uniform silence.
"..." Wren was the last to leave the conference room, her steps heavy.
She walked down the thickly carpeted hallway and stopped before the door to the President’s office.
She stood still and took a deep breath, trying to calm her still-erratic heartbeat and the lingering heat in her face.
Wren knew that his defense of her in the conference room was a public strategy. Adrian was notorious for his strict and demanding work standards.
As his secretary, she had made a rookie mistake. There was no way he wouldn’t hold her accountable.
Wren braced herself for the criticism. She raised her hand, her knuckles pausing for a moment against the door before finally rapping on it.
KNOCK, KNOCK.
"Come in." The deep, clear voice came immediately, carrying a hint of cold sternness through the door.
Wren pushed the door open and went inside.
The office layout was familiar; she had arranged and organized every detail herself.
Adrian sat behind the enormous desk, browsing a document. He didn’t look up when he heard her enter.
Wren walked to about three feet in front of the desk and stopped, her hands clasped lightly before her, fingertips ice-cold.
She lowered her gaze, staring at the blurry reflection of her own figure on the mirror-like surface of the dark desk.
When she spoke, she struggled to keep her voice steady, but a slight hoarseness still betrayed her.
"President Lancaster, I’m sorry. Today was my mistake. I was careless when I filed the document, chose the wrong category, and almost derailed an important meeting. I caused a great deal of trouble for you and the company. I am very sorry."
She recited the apology she had rehearsed in her mind over and over, her tone sincere and humble.
Adrian set down his pen. The metal barrel made a soft CLICK as it touched the glass desktop.
He leaned back into his high-backed chair and finally raised his eyes to look at Wren.
There was no obvious anger in his deep eyes, but they were so tranquil it was unnerving, as if they could see through everything.
Silence stretched for several seconds before Adrian let out a soft, complicated sigh.
"Do you know specifically where you went wrong?"
