By the time she arrived at the exhibition hall, it was already half past ten.
The auction was halfway through. Fu Zhiyie had to head back to the office for a meeting, so he dropped Cecilia off and left right away.
Cecilia made her way upstairs and found an empty seat in the last row.
The people in front didn't notice her. Two girls were sitting just ahead, whispering excitedly to each other.
“Oh my god, did you see the trending topics? Quentin Zane’s painting sold for twenty million yesterday!”
“Who bought it?”
“No idea! I’ve never seen that person before.”
“Twenty million, though. Quentin Zane’s works have never gone for more than three million, right? I mean, he’s a young artist—he’s popular, but he puts out new pieces every year. Three million was already incredible.”
“Yeah! Twenty million… I can’t imagine who would spend that much.”
“But honestly, I found the other trending topic even juicier—President Foster and Mrs. Fu! Such a stunning couple. Just looking at them is a treat for the eyes.”
“Haha, I’m obsessed! I even joined a fan group with some of the girls from the comments section so we can all talk about their cute moments.”
“……”
……
Cecilia hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the girls were right in front of her, and every word landed clearly in her ears.
She quietly lowered her head and checked her phone.
Sure enough, it was true…
Who exactly had bought Quentin Zane’s painting?
Things had been so hectic yesterday that she hadn’t managed to ask the auction staff.
She got up and slipped out of her seat, planning to head downstairs and ask someone.
The answer she received was simple: it was an anonymous purchase. Auctions could indeed be made anonymously, and as soon as the transaction was complete yesterday, the money had already been wired into the ‘Spring Day’ Foundation’s account.
……
Cecilia pressed her lips together. This was probably the largest donation the foundation had ever received. With these funds, they really could help so many children.
There was a lounge downstairs by the exhibition hall. Her head ached a little, and she didn’t feel like eating lunch.
Mia Moore called, saying she’d been caught yesterday wearing high heels by Charles Chase and was now stuck at home writing a self-reflection essay, so she couldn’t come today.
Cecilia decided she’d just rest in the lounge until Fu Zhiyie came to pick her up.
Old Third was waiting at the lounge entrance. When he saw her coming downstairs and noticed she didn’t look so well, he asked, “Madam, are you feeling unwell?”
“I’m fine. I just need to lie down for a bit, no big deal.”
Cecilia shook her head. She figured a quick nap would fix things.
“Alright, then you rest. I’ll keep watch outside.”
“Thank you.”
Cecilia entered the lounge; it had been set up especially for her, with a wide, soft sofa and a little blanket.
She wrapped herself in the blanket and lay down, still uneasy about the sofa. She had no idea when, last night, Fu Zhiyie had picked her up and carried her back to bed.
Definitely no more sleeping on the sofa from now on.
She closed her eyes and drifted off almost immediately.
Outside, Old Third took out his phone and started filing his report straight away.
With no answer to his call, he quickly sent a message:
“!! Boss! Boss! Please respond!”
In the conference room, Fu Zhiyie had just finished assigning pre-New Year's tasks. He walked back to his seat, picked up his phone, and noticed two missed calls. His brow twitched; not caring that the meeting was ongoing, he called back immediately.
“What is it?”
Old Third answered quickly, “President, Madam doesn’t seem to be feeling well. She said she’d rest in the lounge for a bit.”
“Not feeling well? Stay with her. I’ll be there right away.”
The words were barely out before the usually cold and composed man’s face was full of concern. He left a whole room of people behind and strode out of the conference room at once.