Fu Zhiyan sat with a dark, brooding look, watching the design department director presenting the latest proposal.
With a sharp smack, before the director could finish, Fu Zhiyan already slammed the documents down.
The meeting room, already tense, fell into a suffocating silence. No one dared even breathe loudly, everyone kept their heads down, staring at the tiny patch of table in front of them.
The president had already lost his temper over this proposal countless times. No adjustment pleased him.
"If you can’t handle it, then someone else will. Don’t waste my time."
With that, Fu Zhiyan let out a scornful laugh and strode out of the conference room.
Henry Hart quickly followed, frowning as he glanced at the trembling team inside.
He threw open the office door. Agitated, Fu Zhiyan tugged at his collar, collapsed into his chair, and lit a cigarette. He took a long drag, his movements sharp and restless.
Henry Hart pushed through the door, already used to seeing his boss like this these days.
"President Foster..."
Fu Zhiyan looked at him coldly, his voice icy. "Send someone to keep an eye on Julian Jarvis, Mia Moore, the old house, and anyone Tardiness* might contact." (*Tardiness: 迟迟, a person's name.)
"Yes, sir. And... you should really cut down on the smoking." Henry Hart couldn’t help but add, then walked out.
Fu Zhiyan acted as if he hadn’t heard him. The cigarette burned out in his hand as he left the company.
His Maybach tore down the city streets at full speed, blowing through two red lights without a second thought. He rested his slender arm casually on the wheel, unbothered by the law.
He pulled into a neighborhood, finally bringing the car to a halt. He got out, walked slowly toward an apartment building, and, with his long legs, stepped inside the elevator. There was something almost frightening in his cold features.
The elevator rose floor by floor. It stopped on the 17th.
A white door was shut tight. From behind it came angry shouts and intermittent sobbing.
He raised his hand and knocked three times. The door was pulled open, revealing an impatient face.
But the next instant, that thuggish snarl twisted into a sycophantic grin. "Ah! President Foster, you’re here."
It was one of Scarface’s underlings. This, after all, was where Vivian Belle was living.
"Move, move! Everyone make way, Scar, President Foster is here!"
Scarface, perched on the arm of the couch, angled his head for a look, then sprang to his feet with a smile. "President Foster! What brings you here? This place is such a dump."
Fu Zhiyan ignored him completely, his eyes drifting to Vivian Belle sprawled out on the floor.
Once obsessively vain about her looks, Vivian Belle now huddled on the ground like a dog, her clothes filthy, hair greasy and wild, her face bare and carrying a faint stink.
Heh. Reap what you sow.
Perhaps Fu Zhiyan’s gaze was too chilling, because even Scarface seemed rattled, unsure of what the man was thinking. He muttered, "President Foster, this wasn’t our doing. The woman’s gone nuts. She’s been spooked a few times, now she acts like this every day."
At the mention of President Foster, Vivian Belle looked up. The moment she saw Fu Zhiyan standing before her, a crazed smile broke out across her face.
"Ah Ye, Ah Ye, you came to see me! You’ve forgiven me, haven’t you? You’re not mad at me anymore."
She lurched forward, then actually pressed herself to the ground, crawling forward on her belly.
"Ah Ye, I knew it... you love me, you’d definitely come. Please, take me home. I don’t want to stay here anymore—they’re terrifying!"
Vivian Belle tried to summon her old helpless charm, but in her filthy, stinking state, it only made one’s skin crawl.
"Take you back? Vivian Belle, have you forgotten what you did?" Fu Zhiyan's voice was like a blade of ice.
He turned his gaze toward Scarface. "So this is your idea of ‘debt collecting’? Looks like Boss Jin isn’t too eager to get his money back, huh?"
Though Fu Zhiyan wore a mocking smile, it made everyone shudder.
Scarface gulped. He instantly understood: President Foster had come to vent his frustrations on this woman—something must have set him off.
One of the henchmen, noticing the tension, quickly brought over a chair for Fu Zhiyan.
Fu Zhiyan calmly took a seat, crossing his legs as if ready to enjoy the show.
Scarface tried to smooth things over. "No way, President Foster! We work hard for our money—it’s not like we let her off easy."