The sketch and the contract

Emily sat up straight. There was a projector sitting on top of the table. She connected her tablet to the projector.

The projection displayed innumerous vines twisting around a person. A doll without a heart was standing there manipulating the vines.

"What is that?" Gerald looked at the presentation, clearly amused at the thought.

"So, this doll is a doll without a heart."

"I can see that. What happened to it?"

"The man you can see on the other end was her boyfriend. But he took away her heart."

"I see. That's quite interesting."

"You think so?"

Gerald did not answer immediately. He played with the pen in his hand before saying, "Miss Taylor, you already know that this isn't a great idea, right? Your hesitation is clearly depicted in the drawing. Are you trying to fool me and this company with this low-level sketch? This is not what I expected from you, Miss Taylor. Our company cannot work with you. I will let your organization know that they have sent the wrong person for this job."

"Gerald… I…"

Gerald cut her off. "Sir, Miss Taylor."

"What?"

"Call me 'Sir' or 'Mr. Whitmore' whichever you prefer, Miss Taylor. I think we are not too friendly to be on a first-name basis."

"I see," said Emily, her temper rising. "Fine then, Mr. Whitmore, your company asked me to present you with some innovative ideas. I did. As for the reluctance, I agree with you, but it is also because, even though the girl, I mean the doll, doesn't have a heart, her brain knows the person she's trying to attack. Even though she is heartless, she cannot bring herself to actually hurt the person she loved the most. I hope that answers your question, Mr. Whitmore." She gritted her teeth.

'Calm down, Emily, calm down', she told herself.

But it was futile. The heat from her body rose to her cheeks, making them so hot and red that she wished to run away.

Gerald took a deep breath. He could see her chest rising and falling. She was close to exploding in anger.

Lifting the coaster, Gerald pushed the glass of water towards her. "Take a sip," he said.

Emily looked him in the eye and said, "No need. I'm fine. Anyway, I am not here for long, so you should be happy, Mr. Whitmore. I'll ask someone else to come and fix a meeting with you. You don't have to do this. What I mean is, you definitely don't have to work with me."

Emily picked her bag up and turned towards the door.

"Emily, please wait. I had no intention of hurting you. Please listen to me."

"Mr. Whitmore, I think you are forgetting something."

Gerald looked down to meet Emily's eye.

"We are not on first-name basis, Mr. Whitmore. Please refer to me as Miss Taylor." Emily flipped her hair, turned the doorknob and left.

Gerald groaned in frustration. Once she had made up her mind, he had never been able to stop her from leaving.

He needed to think of something different, something effective.

"Meera," he called his assistant.

Meera came in with a tablet in her hand, ready to receive orders from her boss.

"Meera, I need information about this Emily Taylor as soon as you can."

"Sure, Boss. I'm on it."

"Oh and please just look into her organization and see what sort of contract she has with them."

"Ok Boss. Anything else?"

"There is no need to look before… Nevermind, just find whatever you can."

Meera nodded and went out. Her boss would sometimes ask her to look into people's background, but they were mostly important clients. Who was this Miss Taylor? Why did her boss take so much interest in her?

Meera kept her thoughts to herself and went to her cabin, which was adjacent to Gerald's cabin.

Meera sat down and started researching. This Emily Taylor person was interesting.

She worked for some strange company three years ago. She had a fortune, but she left halfway through and migrated to another city. No one knew the reason.

The people from the old company tried to call her back many times, but she refused to return, until…

"Sir, you gotta see this."

Meera ran to Gerald's office, and without knocking, threw the door open. Gerald was sitting there, his tie was lying on the floor. He had a cigarette between his fingers, and was rubbing his forehead with his left hand.

He leaned against the headrest and released puffs of smoke.

"Sir, sir, you gotta see this." Meera raised her voice to get his attention.

"What is it?" The words finally registered in Gerald's brain. He lowered his legs from the table and sat upright. Throwing the cigarette into the ash-tray, he lifted his bloodshot eyes to stare at the tablet in front of him.

On the screen, showed Emily's visit to the Murica Cancer Speciality Hospital.

"What happened to her?"

"Sir, apparently, her father is ill, and in need of a huge amount of money to get his treatment done from Murcia Cancer Speciality Hospital. This is also the reason why she came here. But there is another interesting thing I noticed."

"Go on." There was not much he could do with that information.

"I cannot find anything related to why she left the city three years ago."

Meera did not know the reason, but he did.

"Anything else?"

"Sir, this is the contract between Sun Designers and her."

"Keep it here and leave. I need some alone time. Please don't let anyone in."

"Yes Boss."

Meera left, closing the door behind her.

Gerald picked his phone up and dialed a number.

"Mr. Sun, Gerald Whitmore speaking. We are not interested in working with your company. Do you take us as fools?"

"What happened, Mr. Whitmore?"

"You sent a rude person to my company and you're asking me what happened? I should be the one asking you that."

"Mr. Sun, I want that girl to come and apologize to me and pay for whatever she ruined here, by tomorrow. I don't know why you hired such a person, but Mr. Sun, I need you to understand that just because father recommended you, I trusted you. But I won't tolerate this kind of behavior from your end."

Mr. Sun understood that something must have happened between Miss Taylor and Mr. Whitmore for him to call him up and say such things. He needed this job to save his company.

"Mr. Whitmore, what do you suggest?"

"Send that girl to work for me. She will train under our design department. I will pay, but she has to satisfy me with her work. As long as I'm satisfied with her work, this contract is yours, Mr. Sun."

"Thanks, Mr. Whitmore."