Inside the old mansion, Xavier Fostern sat in stony silence across from his grandfather.

“I've gotten calls from quite a few shareholders already,” the old man said. “They’ve been with the company since the beginning, back when your grandfather founded it. This recent string of failed projects has cost them a lot of money.”

Xavier Fostern let out a cold laugh, his tone unconcerned. “Lost money? Grandpa Rivers, what have they really lost? All that happened is they got a bit less than before. If they can’t accept that, maybe they shouldn’t get anything at all.”

Of course his grandfather saw through it, but changed the subject. “Did you find Cecilia?”

“I did.” Xavier Fostern’s sharp expression faded, and he answered blandly.

“Did she forgive you? Is she willing to come home?”

“No… she hasn’t.”

“Well then, what are you still doing at the company, wasting time?”

Xavier Fostern stiffened. “Grandpa Rivers…”

The old man had stayed out of company affairs for many years, but the Fu Group was a well-oiled machine by now—no one was truly indispensable.

“Out, out, out! Just the sight of you annoys me. If you can’t bring Cecilia back home, then don’t bother coming to see me or your grandmother at the old house. The company doesn’t need you either.”

He tried to look fierce as he huffed and glared. His grandson had every virtue except that he was far too self-centered—and hopeless when it came to feelings.

Xavier Fostern gave a solemn nod, understanding his grandfather’s deeper intentions. “I understand, Grandpa Rivers. I’ll make sure Cecilia forgives me.”

“And another thing—you're leaving today. Hand off all your work to Henry Hart, and don’t set one foot onto Fu family property again!”

“…”

“I got it.”

Nothing more was said. Xavier Fostern stood and left the room.

He pulled several all-nighters to wrap up the work he’d been personally handling, assigning everything else to Henry Hart. Two days passed in a blur.

In those two days, his mind was constantly on Cecilia. He worried that the power might have gone out again at her place in Qingshui Bay, worried that she might be scared and alone at night.

But even more than that, he missed her—an aching, gnawing kind of longing.

Only when he’d held her in his arms that day did he truly feel alive again.

Her petite body was so soft and warm, and she carried that sweet scent unique to her.

Like a drug—addictive, impossible to quit even for a moment.

The car reached Qingshui Bay in the afternoon.

Through the floor-to-ceiling window, he saw Cecilia Ye focused intently on her painting. Just one look, and Xavier Fostern couldn’t tear his eyes away. He wanted to etch her silhouette into his heart.

Two girls who looked like students stood nearby, their faces glowing with admiration.

So this was the side of Cecilia he’d never known—brilliant, talented, adored and admired by others, shining in her own world.

A faint smile tugged at his lips, and pride welled up inside him—his Cecilia was the very best.

How had he been so blind before?

Wanting a closer look, Xavier Fostern got out of the car and leaned against it, watching her from outside.

A little after five, the students started tidying away their paints and brushes.

“Teacher Ye, we’re heading home now!”

The art studio was livelier these days, with four or five girls, all friends who’d joined in together. In just a few days they'd gotten friendly, calling her 'Teacher Ye' every chance they got.

Cecilia Ye had tried to correct them, but eventually gave up.

“Alright, head home now. Time for dinner.”

The two girls at the head—An Ke and Zhou Ya—absolutely adored their beautiful, gentle studio owner.

“Okay! You rest up too, Teacher. You look a little pale today.”

Cecilia managed a smile, though lunch had been hard to keep down; she’d been nauseous all day. “It’s nothing, just my stomach acting up. I’ll be fine after a rest.”

The girls left the studio, chatting as they walked up through the villa neighborhood toward home.

At the crest of the slope they spotted a sleek Maybach parked at the curb—and were even more struck by the man leaning beside it.

An Ke tugged at Zhou Ya’s sleeve. “Whoa, he’s so tall… and seriously handsome!”

Zhou Ya chuckled. “You and your eye for pretty boys. Haven’t you noticed? I ran into him several times walking with my mom last week.”

An Ke shook her head, “Nope! I’m a homebody—I only go out for painting classes.”

“He is hot, but don’t you think it’s a bit weird? Every time he parks right here. What is he doing?”

They whispered, stealing glances at Xavier Fostern.

Naturally, Y Xavier Fostern caught their scrutiny and looked over with his wintry gaze—instantly silencing the two girls.

Only when they were well out of sight did An Ke clutch her chest. “Man, that guy is intense!”

Zhou Ya ruffled her hair. “That’s what you get for ogling pretty boys! But honestly, it seems like he's always watching Teacher Ye’s studio.”

“What!” An Ke whipped out her phone. “Isn’t that kind of stalkerish? I’m calling the cops!”

Before she could dial, Zhou Ya snatched the phone away. “Don't, he hasn't done anything. He doesn't look like a creep, right?”

Laughing and chattering, the two strolled off toward home.

With everyone gone, Cecilia Ye carefully packed away the paints and brushes on the table, then glanced over the girls’ works.

Most of them focused on sketching and color studies—and deserved their spots at the art academy; their work was impressive.

She glanced absently out the wooden door before stepping out to close it.

As her petite hand rested on the door, she poked her head out and—unexpectedly—met those inky, smoldering eyes at the top of the slope.

What was he doing here today…

He hadn’t shown up for days…

Cecilia quickly drew back, closed the door, and retreated inside.

Distracted, she made herself a simple dinner: plain congee, pine nut tofu, and a small dish of pickled cucumber, barely managing a few bites.

As night fell, she got ready for bed. Zara Zhao didn’t need help anymore—he hopped from his little chair straight onto the bed and curled up by her side.

For some reason, Zara Zhao seemed cleverer than ever: he sprawled beside her quietly, no longer fidgeted, and didn’t try to climb on top of her.

His little head rested gently on his blanket, pressed to her side, occasionally bumping her to get her attention.

Seeing Xavier Fostern had shaken her, and though she tried to ignore the fact he was downstairs, her heart was still all in turmoil.

Finally, Zara Zhao won her attention. “Zara Zhao, let me hug you!”

She reached out, but instead of coming to her as usual, Zara Zhao took two tiny steps back, as if to say no hugs today.

“What’s wrong, why don’t you want me to hold you?”

The cat seemed to ponder her words, dark eyes flicking, then inched closer and nuzzled her belly.

Cecilia’s eyes went wide. She’d always heard that pets could sense if their owner was pregnant—could it be true?

She put a hand on her stomach, pulled back her covers, and smoothed her pajamas. Her lower belly was softly rounded, like a tiny orange, rising and falling with each breath.

Her face gentled. “Zara Zhao, do you know there’s a baby here? Do you want to feel?”

She reached for Zara Zhao, who thought she wanted to shake hands and placed his little paw obediently in her palm.

Gently, Cecilia placed his paw on her belly. Zara Zhao froze in surprise, eyes fixed on her stomach, unmoving.

Carefully, she nudged him forward; his paw rested on her belly. Letting go, she smiled at him.

Immediately, Zara Zhao pulled his paw back, only for Cecilia to reassure him: “It’s alright, you can touch—just be gentle.”

Listening to her, Zara Zhao slowly put his little paw back, ever so lightly, and let out a soft, “Meow~.”

“Good kitty. There’s a baby here. In the future, you need to help me take care of them, okay?”

“Meow~”

He meowed again, puffing out his tiny chest as if to say, ‘Leave it to me!’

After playing with Zara Zhao for a while, sleepiness washed over her and she glanced at the curtains.

Has he left…?

He should be gone by now…