Just as he stepped out, Henry Hart knocked on the door; there was another meeting that afternoon, and he'd come to remind Fu Zhiyie.

Spotting the untouched lunchbox on the desk, Henry Hart guessed the madam must be in the CEO’s lounge, so he consciously lowered his voice.

"President Foster, the meeting starts in ten minutes."

Fu Zhiyie slipped on his suit jacket, shifting fully into work mode—his entire presence suddenly sharp and forbidding. He answered in a low voice, "Alright."

The two of them left the conference room. Year-end meetings were always like this—numerous and exhausting.

Leaning back in his chair, Fu Zhiyie listened to the shareholders drone on with obvious impatience.

But his thoughts had already drifted to the little one in his office.

Yes, he thought, once this meeting’s over, I’ll head home early. I can take Chi Chi back with me—wonder if she’s woken up yet.

His restlessness showed on his face, and the shareholder talking felt a chill at the CEO’s icy demeanor, worrying Fu Zhiyie was in a bad mood—or perhaps he himself had said something wrong, so he became even more cautious.

Finally the meeting ended. Fu Zhiyie said nothing, stood up, and strode out of the conference room.

He left behind a crowd of people exchanging puzzled glances.

In the office, Vivian Belle was sitting confidently on the sofa, waiting for Fu Zhiyie. Since Henry Hart had apparently gone to the meeting as well and no one was there to stop her, she’d simply slipped inside.

She wore towering stiletto heels and was dressed to catch the eye—not at all like someone here for work.

Though it was winter, her blouse had a dramatically low neckline, and her lips were painted a striking red. Among Fu Group's female staff, most favored elegance; few ever dressed like her.

Swaying her hips, Vivian Belle sat down on the sofa and caught sight of a white scarf draped there. Instantly, she frowned. It was obviously a woman’s scarf; bringing it to her nose, she detected a faint, sweet scent.

Could someone in this company be trying to seduce Fu Zhiyie? Hmph.

Her displeased gaze swept over the lunchbox left on the table.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor—Fu Zhiyie was walking rapidly, eager to tidy up and get Chi Chi to go home together.

The door opened. Spotting Vivian Belle, Fu Zhiyie’s expression instantly turned cold.

"Who let you in here?"

Vivian Belle’s smile faltered. Why was Fu Zhiyie so harsh today?

She stood and sidled up to him, clutching his arm and saying coyly, "Ah Ye, I just saw how busy you've been—I brought you some coffee."

Fu Zhiyie gently brushed off her hand and seated himself at his desk.

"Out. This is work hours."

Vivian Belle didn’t leave. Instead, she picked up a document from the desk and walked over.

She’d studied design abroad, and now she worked here in Fu Zhiyie’s company, assigned to the publicity department.

The New Year was almost here—the annual gala was scheduled for next week, like every year, organized by her department.

Truthfully, she had come for work, though the real reason was to see Fu Zhiyie.

She placed the file on the desk and spoke softly: "Ah Ye, this is the event proposal for the year-end gala. The supervisor asked me to bring it for your review, so I took the liberty."

Fu Zhiyie glanced through it: the venue, as always, was their hotel downtown—nothing new there. Skimming further, the schedule was just the usual run of activities.

"Leave it with Henry Hart. I don’t need to see this."

Vivian Belle bit her lip. She couldn’t go on like this. Every time she came, Fu Zhiyie was all business and nothing more.

Her colleagues took it as a joke—they said she ran to the CEO’s office every day, only to get sent away every time.

Crouching beside him, hand resting on his knee, Vivian Belle put on a pitiful look, letting the neckline of her blouse fall open just enough to be revealing.

"Ah Ye, don’t treat me like this. I just want to help share your burdens. You’ve been so busy lately. When we get married, I want to support you, to be a good wife to you."

Fu Zhiyie’s brows knit tightly together; he shot Vivian Belle a cold look.

"It’s work time." (In other words: Don’t say such things now.)

Unwilling to give up, Vivian Belle stood and boldly tried to perch herself on Fu Zhiyie’s lap.

"No, I want to talk to you now. Otherwise, you’ll keep ignoring me every day. It’s so hard—I see you in the same place every day, but I can’t even see you properly."

Fu Zhiyie felt a sudden flash of irritation and shifted his legs away from her, grabbing her forearm to stop her.

Just then, a sudden noise echoed from the lounge.

Cecilia Ye had slept deeply—maybe because everything in the bed was suffused with Fu Zhiyie’s scent, and no one had disturbed her.

The lounge door swung open, and the scene before her came into view. Cecilia Ye took a step back in shock.

Her wide eyes looked back and forth between the two of them. From where she stood, Vivian Belle was bent over in front of Fu Zhiyie—

Were they…kissing?

Her mouth opened, but not a single word would come.

Why…why was Vivian Belle here?

Did she work here at Fu Zhiyie’s company all along?

Fu Zhiyie was stunned as well. For some reason, guilt pricked at his heart.

He forcefully yanked Vivian Belle away and strode toward Cecilia Ye.

She shook her head, backing away, her gaze darting from Fu Zhiyie to Vivian Belle’s suggestive expression.

Her glass-like eyes shimmered with tears, disbelief scrawled on her delicate face as she looked between the two.

Finally, Cecilia Ye turned, snatched up the white scarf from the sofa, and ran out. She ran so fast that she nearly crashed into Henry Hart coming in through the door, stumbling a little.

Fu Zhiyie’s heart clenched at the sight.

She frantically jabbed at the elevator button, not calming until the doors finally slid shut.

Silent sobs convulsed her body—tears spilling in thick streams down her face as she covered her mouth, stifling any sound.

Why? Why did she have to see them together?

She should never have come today; she had brought this on herself.

Despair wrapped around her like a shroud, tears smearing her once-radiant face. She felt utterly drained—like all her strength had gone.

Fu Zhiyie…who else could make me feel such crushing disappointment and despair…