The old man nodded to Henry Hart, who stepped forward and placed a manila folder on the table.
With a serious look, Henry Hart adjusted his glasses. "Old Master, President, these are the new statements we obtained after re-questioning everyone. It turns out the people who injured you and those who hurt Vivian Belle were actually two different groups. Do you remember what happened that day?"
Xavier Foster's face was cold as frost. He frowned, a distant look settling into his eyes as he spoke calmly. "Back then, I was chased by seven or eight people into an alley, where I ran into Vivian Belle, who happened to be running toward me. Worried the people after me would harm an innocent bystander, I grabbed her and we ran together."
As he recalled the events, something started to feel odd. Vivian Belle had been fleeing frantically, her skirt caught and tugged, hair a bit of a mess, and her face was utterly panicked.
After a few steps, they reached a fork in the road, and Xavier Foster dragged her to the right—only to realize too late that direction led to a dead end.
Then everything happened... No, wait. He remembered being chased by seven or eight people, but wasn't there actually even more?
Henry Hart nodded. "That's right. Vivian Belle was being chased at the same time—by people her father had offended years ago. Her family owned a small company that eventually went bankrupt. Unable to repay loan sharks, her father ran off, so on that day, the loan sharks came looking for trouble and targeted Vivian Belle instead."
Henry Hart’s words were crisp and to the point. By now, the president should have already pieced together the rest.
Everyone standing in the room looked increasingly grim. One of them even let out a cold laugh, his knuckles turning white from how hard he clenched his fists.
"After that person was locked up, someone did visit him in prison—it was Vivian Belle's mother. Afterward, they changed their statements."
A thick, chilly silence fell over the room, the tension icy and suffocating between the three men.
After a while, the old man finally spoke. "Zhiye... what do you think of that woman?"
Xavier Foster stood silently for a while, leaning against the table with one knee drawn up, a tangled mess of feelings in his heart.
At first, he’d been furious—how could he have been deceived for so many years? Back when Vivian Belle went abroad, they hadn’t seen each other for four years.
Looking back, he realized he didn’t truly know her at all. He only felt guilty about what happened all those years ago—never imagining, in the end, it was all just a lie.
He scoffed bitterly. To think someone so proud of himself was strung along by a woman all this time.
When Vivian Belle lay sick in the hospital, both of them were unwell, and Xavier Foster only thought he owed her for the injuries she suffered because of him, that he should take responsibility.
His temples throbbed, and he pressed his brow, a hint of relief sneaking in amidst the confusion in his heart.
It was as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders; suddenly, the image of Cecilia Ye flashed in his mind.
"Grandpa Rivers, I only wanted to take responsibility for what happened with Vivian Belle back then."
The old man nodded. He had long suspected his grandson only cared about Cecilia Ye—he never really believed Zhiye liked Vivian Belle.
"I always thought you had some feelings for her. It made me angry, so I never brought it up. She left for overseas with three million yuan I gave her. For three million, she chose money over you."
The old man shook his head, his gaze disappointed, "Now you know everything. Handle things yourself. And don’t mistreat Cecilia anymore."
"Alright," Xavier Foster replied quietly, leaving the room with Henry Hart close behind.
It was bitterly cold outside. Xavier Foster stopped, Henry Hart waiting in silence at his back.
After a long moment, Xavier Foster made his way downstairs. The housekeeper was clearing snow from the front steps, the shovel scraping sharply against the stone.
The chilly wind did a lot to clear his mind.
"President, should we head back to the company now?" Henry Hart asked, noticing how rare it was to find his boss so lost in thought. Clearly, this matter had gotten under his skin.
Xavier Foster didn’t answer, but instead asked, "You went to pick up Cecilia at the amusement park that day, right? How was she?"
Henry Hart paused, and answered truthfully, "She was squatting in a corner by the gate—looked a bit down. She didn’t say a single word during the whole drive."
"Hmm. Didn't you get married a couple years ago?" Xavier Foster asked suddenly.
Henry Hart was momentarily confused. "Yes, President."
"Why did you want to get married? You’re still young."
"I love my wife. I want to see her when I come home every day, take care of her, make her happy…"
Though a little bewildered by the turn of conversation, Henry Hart answered seriously, with a rare softness in his expression.
As Xavier Foster's assistant, Henry Hart knew a little about his boss’s family situation. The president never talked about affairs of the heart—he always seemed like a cold, emotionless work machine.
But his attitude toward Cecilia Ye was clearly different, that much Henry Hart could tell.
"Let’s go back to the company," Xavier Foster said, turning away.
He hadn’t figured out how to face Cecilia yet. So many times, because of Vivian Belle, he had left Cecilia Ye behind.
Although things were always suspicious, he’d taken Vivian Belle’s side every time.
Looking back, it was he who felt guilty toward Vivian Belle, he who made promises—but it was Cecilia who silently suffered the consequences.
Knowing she was staying with Mia Moore put his mind at ease. He decided he’d bring her back once everything settled down.
*
“Cecilia, your cooking is amazing! But making you cook for me while you’re pregnant—am I being too much?”
Mia Moore patted her full belly, slouching on the sofa with a satisfied sigh.
“Not at all. I actually enjoy cooking. Back then—” She caught herself, almost saying Xavier Foster’s name out of habit. "—he liked my cooking too."
Catching her slip, Cecilia Ye quickly changed the subject. “By the way, Yao Yao, I want to find a place to rent for myself.”
“Huh? Why? Isn’t it nice living here? Wait—you don’t want to live with me anymore?” Mia Moore pouted.
Cecilia Ye couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course I’d love to stay here with you, but I already talked it over with him. We’ll be getting a divorce after the New Year. With everything happening now, Grandpa Rivers surely knows too—they won’t stop us from splitting up. When the time comes, I’d like my own place.”
She ruffled Mia Moore’s hair playfully. “It’d be weird to live together forever, don't you think? What if you get a boyfriend—how awkward would that be?”
Seeing that Cecilia Ye had already made up her mind, Mia Moore didn’t push. She thought for a moment and said, “No boyfriend could ever compare to you, but all right. My brother’s been living in Newbridge, so just tell me your requirements and I'll have him look for a place.”
“Would that be too much trouble for him?”
“Not at all—it's nothing for him.”
Cecilia Ye thought for a moment. She still had the money she’d set aside for rent—she’d even told Julian Jarvis not to transfer it to her straight away. "Alright, it doesn’t need to be big. I like small spaces, just big enough for me. Oh, and somewhere nearby with a shop front would be ideal—I want to open a little art studio."
Mia Moore’s eyes lit up. “An art studio?”
“Yeah, just a small one. I could paint, and invite other art lovers to join. I’ve wanted to do this for a long time—it’d be wonderful to finally do what I love.”
“Wow, then you’ll be the most beautiful art studio owner in Newbridge! I’ll help out whenever I can—perfect!”
Mia Moore said with exaggerated excitement, nearly pouncing on Cecilia like a pup.
Cecilia Ye laughed, gently pushing away her fuzzy head. "And... I’d like someplace a little out of the way, quieter and more remote."