Unwritten

Chapter 8

Clover was still wrestling with Oliver's offer. For weeks now, she'd been racking her brain, trying to come up with an idea that would fit his vision for a fantasy story. How could she build a new world of her own when she could barely keep control of her reality? All she knew for certain was that once she accepted, the three-month timer would start ticking.

She paced around her room, lost in thought, hand pressed to her chin, running through ideas. On the floor nearby, Nancy watched, mildly entertained, as Clover circled the room for what had to be the hundredth time.

"Could work... no... maybe a castle. Scratch that—an empire," Clover murmured, half to herself.

Nancy rolled her eyes and cut in, "Wear my watch, will you?"

"What?"

"So i can get my steps in," she smiled innocently.

Clover threw her a dry look. "You're so helpful."

Nancy shrugged with a grin. "What? You've probably walked a thousand steps by now."

With a sigh, Clover sank to the floor beside her. "This is useless."

"It's seven in the morning, take a break," Nancy suggested gently.

"I can't take a break," Clover replied, frustration tightening her voice. "Time's literally against me."

Nancy hesitated, watching Clover with a flicker of concern. "Are you sure you want this?"

Clover propped herself up on her elbows, meeting Nancy's gaze with a glimmer of intensity. "I've wanted this since my first book."

Nancy paused, choosing her words carefully. "I mean, everything's going so well for you. You're already successful. Do you really need Hargrove Industries?"

Clover looked at her, caught off guard, as if the thought had never even crossed her mind. Nancy pressed on. "If you go through with this, you'll be one of his writers. Your name will always be beside his."

"It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity," Clover said, her voice a little defensive. "People write hundreds of books for a shot at this."

"Clover, you've become just as famous as they are, and it happened in one year. You already have everything."

"You don't understand."

Nancy's tone softened. "Then help me understand."

"Joining Hargrove Industries... it's like having my portrait in the hall of fame," Clover explained, her voice quiet but full of yearning. "People would pick up my books, knowing I'm one of the best."

Nancy sat up, her expression growing serious. "This dream of yours becoming an obsession. You've forgotten about passion, about your love for writing–"