I Married the President

After much consideration, Claire Sinclair decided she would turn down the assignment Teacher Hartwell had given her.

She walked up to his office door and knocked. After waiting for a while with no response, she arched an eyebrow and pushed the door open to let herself in.

Henry Hartwell was still in his chair, head tilted back, fast asleep. He hadn’t even noticed her enter.

Claire Sinclair cleared her throat and said, raising her voice slightly, "Teacher Hartwell."

Henry Hartwell frowned without opening his eyes and said lazily, "What is it?"

"About that judging gig... is it possible for me not to do it?"

"No."

"Why not?" Claire Sinclair asked.

Henry Hartwell slowly opened his eyes, his gaze still unfocused. His voice sounded just as dismissive as before. "It’s the end of the year, so things are hectic at the paper. We have to deal with all the inspections from the higher-ups. You don’t know how to handle any of that, so there’s no use in you staying here. Just go handle the TV station for me."

Claire Sinclair arched an eyebrow. "Teacher Hartwell, if you don’t have time, why did you accept a gig like this in the first place?"

Henry Hartwell sounded exasperated. "Good heavens, girl, you think anyone actually wants a thankless job like this? It was forced on me by the higher-ups. However, they did say the Astoria Daily just needs to send a representative—it doesn’t have to be me. Since Ms. Summers and I are both swamped, that leaves you."

"But I..." The excuse Claire Sinclair had spent so long concocting was completely shut down by his claim that he was too busy.

Apparently, she was the only one in the entire newsroom with any free time.

Her workload had already been cleared in preparation for her overseas trip, and she hadn’t been assigned any new tasks yet.

But even so, she really didn’t want to be some judge. She knew she’d be torn apart by netizens.

At this thought, Claire Sinclair mustered her courage and said, "Teacher Hartwell, a lot of people are already trashing me, saying I’m just a reporter who got famous through hype and taking bribes. If I go on a TV show, they’ll definitely accuse me of being desperate for fame. For the sake of Mr. Quincy’s political career, I don’t want to embarrass him any further."

Henry Hartwell frowned at her words. "That’s exactly why you should do it. Because people say those things, you have to prove with your own ability that you aren’t just a pretty face—that you have real substance. A reality show is the perfect platform to fully showcase your talents. That’s the right way to look at this."

’Right, my ass! Teacher Hartwell is trying to manipulate me again!’

Claire Sinclair said irritably, "I’m a writer, not a public speaker."

"When you become the First Lady someday, of course no one will force you to give speeches. But I hope you’ll use this chance to sharpen your skills. And look at it from another angle: can’t you use this opportunity to properly convey Young Master Quincy’s vision?"

That argument completely shut Claire Sinclair down.

’I have to admit, Teacher Hartwell is on another level. I’ve never won a single argument against him.’

Sigh...

’Who’s to blame but myself for being so weak?’

Claire Sinclair sighed and relented. "Alright, I’ll go..."

The corner of Henry Hartwell’s mouth curled into a roguish smirk. "Claire Sinclair, you’re the best student I’ve ever mentored. Don’t go embarrassing your man, now."

"Yes..." Claire Sinclair replied listlessly.

"Alright, get back to it."

"Yes..."

Claire Sinclair dragged her weary body back to her desk.

She had just sat down when a delivery guy’s voice called out from the entrance, "Package for Claire Sinclair!"

’Not again?’

Claire Sinclair’s heart clenched, and she walked toward the entrance.

The delivery guy handed her a small box. "I’ll just need you to sign for it."

Claire Sinclair said, "I’d like to inspect it first."

"Sure. Go ahead and open it."

Claire Sinclair nodded, grabbed a small pair of scissors from the reception desk, and cut the box open.