The moment Mitchell stepped out of DataPulse's glass tower, he pulled out his phone and dialed Niall's number. His fingers drummed against his thigh as he waited for her to pick up.
"Veronica is working at DataPulse now?" His voice carried a note of disbelief that bordered on accusation.
Niall's response came after a pause, measured and careful. "She is. You weren't aware of this?"
The assumption hit Mitchell like a slap. All this time, he'd believed Veronica had simply stepped into Niall's vacant position, filling the gap left by her departure. The reality was far more complex than he'd imagined.
"I had no idea." Niall's tone carried a hint of something sharper now. She'd been operating under the assumption that Dario had rejected her application out of loyalty to Veronica, some misguided attempt to punish her on Veronica's behalf. Now she found herself wondering if Veronica had already severed ties with Dennis Group before making her move to DataPulse.
The revelation sent a shock through Mitchell's system. "Then what exactly did you mean earlier when you mentioned personal reasons?"
"Exactly what I said. Personal matters." Niall's voice had turned crisp, dismissive. She wasn't about to elaborate on the tangled web of grievances that lay beneath the surface.
"But that means—" Mitchell started, then caught himself. "What are you getting at?"
The pieces were rearranging themselves in his mind. His resignation hadn't been connected to Niall's situation at all. He'd been operating on completely false assumptions. The thought left him feeling exposed, foolish.
"How capable is Veronica, really?" Mitchell pressed on, needing to understand. "From what I gathered, she hasn't completed her doctoral studies yet. Her qualifications seem—"
"She doesn't have incomplete doctoral studies," Niall interrupted, her voice carrying a note of cold amusement. "She has an undergraduate degree. That's it. She never even attempted graduate school."
The words hung in the air between them. "You're serious?"
"Completely." Niall's indifference was palpable through the phone line.
The news struck Niall as both surprising and entirely predictable. Veronica abandoning Dennis Group had caught her off guard, but the way she'd done it—leveraging personal connections instead of building genuine qualifications—revealed a fundamental shortsightedness. It was the kind of move that prioritized immediate gains over long-term growth, a decision that would likely come back to haunt her.
"What's your next move, Niall?" Mitchell's question carried genuine concern.
"I have a major racing championship approaching. My focus needs to be entirely on preparation for now. Career decisions can wait until after the competition."
"Racing..." Mitchell's voice trailed off. Sometimes Niall's ability to excel across such diverse fields left him genuinely bewildered. How did someone maintain expertise in so many demanding areas simultaneously? The logistics alone seemed impossible.
Yet he'd learned not to question her methods. Niall's track record spoke for itself. If she claimed she could handle multiple high-stakes commitments, experience had taught him to take her at her word.
Meanwhile, across the city in Dennis Group's executive suite, Cullen sat behind his mahogany desk, methodically reviewing quarterly reports. Without lifting his eyes from the documents, he gestured toward his assistant.
"Coffee," he said simply.
"Right away, Mr. Dennis."
For Miranda, this moment represented both opportunity and terror. Making coffee for Cullen Dennis was a responsibility she'd watched Veronica handle countless times, but executing it herself felt entirely different. She followed Veronica's detailed instructions with religious precision, measuring each component carefully before Frank carried the finished product to Cullen's office.
Cullen set aside his paperwork and reached for the ceramic cup, giving the dark liquid a perfunctory stir. As he raised it toward his lips, something made him pause. The aroma wasn't quite right—subtle, but unmistakably wrong.
He managed half a sip before setting the cup down with barely concealed disgust. "Have her make another one."
Frank blinked in surprise. "Of course, sir."
When Frank delivered the feedback, Miranda felt her stomach drop. "Another one? Was it too sweet? Too bitter? I followed Veronica's recipe exactly—every measurement was precise. I don't understand what went wrong."
"I'm not sure either," Frank admitted, sharing her confusion.
Determined to get it right, Miranda prepared a second cup with even greater care. But nerves had gotten the better of her by then. Cullen didn't even attempt to taste this version. One smell was enough to confirm it was wrong.
His patience finally exhausted, Cullen turned to Frank with barely controlled irritation. "What exactly is happening here?"
"This is Ms. Edison' first time preparing your coffee personally. She's probably nervous and having trouble with the temperature control or timing."
Cullen's brow furrowed deeply. "Edison? Why is she making my coffee? Where the hell is Veronica?"
The question seemed to catch Frank completely off guard. "Veronica submitted her resignation. I assumed you were aware of this."
A heavy silence settled over the office. Cullen genuinely had no knowledge of Veronica's departure. The last he'd heard, Frank had been expressing frustration about her work performance, even mentioning the possibility of termination. But resignation? That was an entirely different matter.
"When exactly did she leave?" Cullen's voice had taken on a dangerous quiet.
"Last Thursday, sir."
Cullen leaned back in his leather chair, processing this unexpected development. Veronica's absence was still relatively recent—just a matter of days. In his mind, this felt more like a temporary setback than a permanent departure. Surely she would recognize her mistake and return on her own terms soon enough. People like Veronica always did.