Chapter 8 The Taste Of Rejection Up Close

• To Juliette's surprise, Jackson agreed to see her.
• The receptionist respectfully opened the door to his office, and as she left, Juliette noticed the young woman's nervous sigh. Clearly, the new hire knew all about the incident with her predecessor and was keen not to make the same mistake.
• Inside, Jackson stood with his back to her, gazing out the window at the bustling city below. His figure was tall and imposing, and even in silence, he exuded a presence as strong as a storm.
• Juliette hesitated before speaking, “Thank you, Mr. Fairchild, for agreeing to meet me. I just wanted to express my gratitude in person.”
• Jackson turned slowly, his expression unreadable. His eyes took her in—she was dressed in a simple white dress, looking more fragile than usual. She was still recovering, her face pale and delicate, like a porcelain doll.
• “There's no need for thanks,” Jackson said coolly. “You spent the night with me. I couldn't just let you collapse in the street.”
• His voice was as harsh as his words, cutting through her like ice. “But don't misunderstand. Just because I let you in doesn't mean I'll help you. I simply wanted you to experience rejection firsthand. Even if you try to see me again, it won't change anything. Do you understand?”
• Juliette's heart sank, her hopes shattered in an instant. She had expected this, but hearing it was still a blow.
• Still, she managed to pull herself together, offering him a smile that barely touched her eyes. “I understand. I didn't come here expecting help. I just wanted to thank you for saving my life. And as for the medical bills, I've brought a card to repay you. The password is six zeros.”
• She reached into her bag and placed the card on his desk, her movements graceful and deliberate. “We'll keep things separate, as they should be. You've already paid for me once. There's no need to pay for me again.”
• With that, she turned and left the room, her back straight and her head held high.
• She knew Jackson too well—he was a ruthless man, and she couldn't afford to show any weakness.
• Behind her, Jackson remained still, his expression cold and unreadable. Yet something about her departure tugged at him, a flicker of something odd stirring in his heart.
• Juliette, when sweet, was as charming and graceful as a cat, but when her pride took over, she could transform, bristling with the same haughty intensity. That shift in her demeanor intrigued him.
• He reached for the card she had left behind, running his fingertips over its edges. A trace of warmth still clung to it, almost as if her essence lingered in the small piece of plastic.
• The breeze from the air conditioning fluttered the papers on his desk, revealing something beneath them. Jackson glanced down, his expression darkening as a hint of melancholy crossed his face.
• Juliette stepped out of the office, holding her head high despite the whirlwind of emotions she felt inside. As she reached the elevator, her eyes were drawn to the small television screen in the lobby.
• Displayed on the screen was none other than Louis. He no longer carried the swagger of a powerful man. Instead, he was dressed in a prison uniform, his face filled with despair as he stood trial.
• Has he fallen from grace? What's going on?
• Juliette furrowed her brows, bewildered by what she had just seen.