Semua Bab VOWS IN THE WAR ROOM: Bab 1 - Bab 6

The furnaces were running, which was supposed to be comforting.Heat rolled across the factory floor in slow waves. It carried that familiar mix…hot metal, mineral dust, and the sharp bite of fresh-cut glass. On most mornings, the smell meant we were alive.This morning it felt like the building was holding its breath.A forklift beeped as it reversed near Packing. Someone laughed too loudly near the racks, like they were trying to trick themselves into normalcy. I stepped around a pallet of finished tumblers and kept my eyes off the time clock.“Morning, Yselle,” Henri called, lifting two fingers. His smile arrived late, like it had to climb stairs.“Morning,” I said. “Try not to break anything today.”Henri snorted. “Tell the glass that.”I almost smiled. Almost.My boots tapped across concrete toward the office. I felt the stares before I saw them—quick glances, then eyes dropping away. People didn’t want to look at me too long. Looking too long meant asking questions, and nobody w

Renaud Valois didn’t hurry. He stepped into the reception area as if the air belonged to him, as if the factory’s heat and noise were background music chosen for his entrance. Cold followed him in from outside. It curled around his coat hem, around his shoulders, and it didn’t leave when the doors shut. Julien Caron moved to his side at once. “Mr. Valois.” Renaud’s gaze slid past him and landed on me again. Not in the way men look when they like what they see. Not in the way men look when they want to win. It was closer to recognition. Like he’d met me somewhere else, in a file, in a story someone told him with names and dates. Luc shifted beside me. “That’s him,” he muttered, like I needed help.“I guessed,” I said. Renaud stopped a few feet away. Close enough that I could see the faint line of scar near his jaw. Close enough that I could smell his cologne....clean, restrained and expensive without trying. His eyes moved once, quick, taking in my coat, my pinned hair, the tir

The pen felt heavier than it should have.I held it above the signature line while my father’s silence pressed on my back like a hand. Luc stood near the door with his arms crossed, jaw working as if he was chewing words he didn’t dare say out loud. Julien Caron waited without moving, eyes on the clock, not my face.Renaud Valois didn’t blink.He just watched.“You have one hour,” he’d said, like he was offering a courtesy instead of a countdown.I looked at the page again. The words were clean. Legal. Neatly arranged into a cage.“Before I sign,” I said, keeping my voice steady, “I want one sentence added.”Caron lifted his brows. “Ms. Morel…”“I’m not asking you,” I said, eyes on Renaud. “I’m asking him.”Renaud’s gaze didn’t shift. “Say it.”“No wage interference,” I said. “Ever. Not as pressure. Not as punishment. Not as leverage.”My father let out a sharp breath. “Yselle, stop…”Renaud cut him off without looking at him. “Agreed.”Caron hesitated, then opened his briefcase again