Chapter 5 game over

Summer Reeves couldn't help wanting to retort, but was stopped by Blair. With a faint smile and an air of friendliness, Blair said sweetly, "Sister Sierra, of course we're not here to fight. I just heard you're amazing at badminton, so I came especially to see you. Isn't the company holding a sports competition soon? I'm signing up for badminton, so I thought I'd come learn from you. Please teach me, Sister Sierra." She looked at Sierra Westwood with admiration shining in her eyes.

Sierra, clearly pleased to be flattered in public, slowly let her guard down as she took in Blair's polite tone and seemingly honest demeanor.

"Oh, I see," Sierra said. "I accidentally stepped on Summer's foot this morning, and I thought she was holding a grudge and brought you here to settle the score."

"Of course not. We're all interns. We should support one another, not fight. I've heard of Sister Sierra for a while-how beautiful and graceful you are. And now that I've met you in person, the rumors are all true."

There may be holes in the ground, but flattery never falls through.

Summer leaned over to whisper urgently, "Blair, why are you trying to cozy up to her?"

Blair gave her a quick pat on the back in reassurance. **Now wasn't the era of hair-pulling and public screaming-it was strategy that won wars.**

"I was planning on napping at lunch," Sierra sighed, "but seeing how eager you are, I'll make the sacrifice and teach you."

She led the way to the employee activity center, chin lifted high, arms crossed arrogantly over her chest, her entourage following closely behind.

Once there, Blair suggested cheerfully, "Sister Sierra, how about we play a quick round? Then you can gauge my level and teach me accordingly."

"Sure," Sierra replied with a malicious glint in her eye.

At first, Sierra clearly wasn't playing seriously. She tossed high, unpredictable shots, making them difficult to return. Blair chased one, two steps in, and then stumbled to the ground, landing with a thud.

"Oh no-are you okay?" Sierra asked, feigning concern.

"I'm fine," Blair responded as she got up.

Summer was about to burst with frustration. They were supposed to be getting revenge, so why was Blair letting Sierra treat her like a joke?

As the match wore on, Blair was panting and wobbling with apparent exhaustion. Sierra smiled smugly. "Still want to learn? You look like you're already about to collapse."

Blair wiped her brow and forced a tired smile. "Of course I want to learn. Let's go again-but this time, I'll serve."

She picked up the birdie, weighing it in her hand.

Sierra barely paid attention, holding the racket lazily against her shoulder.

Then Blair served.

The first few rallies were easy. Sierra sent the shuttlecock flying at top speed, clearly trying to end things. But Blair met the ball with precision, her return sharp and fast. Sierra, caught off guard, lunged for it but missed the angle.

From then on, **Blair dominated**. She barely moved, swinging her racket with practiced ease. Meanwhile, Sierra was suddenly the one sprinting across the court, dripping sweat and barely managing to keep up.

Finally, Sierra, so focused on the shuttlecock, tripped over her own feet and hit the ground hard-limbs flailing, pants torn, underwear showing. She let out a shriek.

"Ah-!"

Her wail turned heads throughout the activity center. Several employees turned to stare at the humiliating scene.

Blair twirled the racket on her shoulder, looked over with a smile, and said lightly, "Summer, let's go. The game's over."

Summer was stunned, but elated. She quickly followed Blair, barely able to hold in her laughter.

Everyone in the company knew Sierra Westwood had her uncle backing her, and no one dared challenge her. But now? Blair's popularity skyrocketed. For an entire week, people she barely knew were buying her breakfast, whispering thank-you's in the hallway for standing up to the office tyrant.

Meanwhile, Marcus Graham had been out on a worksite inspection when his assistant called to report that his father was at the office.

When he returned, he opened the door to his office and was immediately met with the thunderous roar of **Richard Graham**, "You unfilial boy! Do you still think of me as your father? You didn't come home, and now I came here personally-and you make me wait three hours?"

Marcus didn't even flinch. "You want me to abandon my work crew and rush back just to hear you scold me?"

Richard's face turned a deeper shade of red. "You ungrateful brat! Everything I've done is for you!"

"Everything you've done is for your image. Let's not confuse the two," Marcus replied, voice cold and calm.

Richard's nostrils flared. "I warned you about choosing the wrong woman-"

"And I told you," Marcus cut him off, "I'm not marrying a woman like the one you picked for me just to expand your network."

Richard slammed a hand on the desk. "You will do what's best for this family!"

"I am," Marcus said, eyes locking on his father's. "By not becoming another pawn in your