Everyone turned to look.
Eric finally managed to stop coughing, his face dark as thunder.
No one dared make a sound, thinking he must’ve been upset about something said during the meeting.
Eric frowned, then leaned toward Lucas, murmured something under his breath.
After that, he straightened up and said flatly, “Carry on.”
The tension in the room eased a little, and Lucas quietly slipped out of the conference room.
Downstairs in the lounge.
Amelia sat on the couch, flipping through a magazine with zero interest.
Fast footsteps echoed behind her, then Lucas’s voice rang out: “Ma’am, why didn’t you call before coming?”
The front desk guy who brought her over looked like he’d just seen a ghost.
Wait—so she really is Eric’s wife?
But didn’t the boss say he didn’t know her?
Forget that—why did he just take those photos of her then?!
The poor guy looked like his soul had left his body.
His future in this Fortune 500 company?
Pretty much over.
Why was this couple playing him like this?
Amelia set the magazine down.
“I did call.
Guess Assistant Hayes was too busy to notice.”
Of course Lucas remembered her calling.
But when the boss told him not to answer, he could only play dumb.
Pretending not to catch the sarcasm, Lucas responded smoothly, “Apologies, we were in a meeting and I left my phone in the office.
Should’ve made things clearer before stepping out.
The new receptionist is still learning—sorry for the trouble.
Please, this way.”
He made his apology sound ironclad.
If Amelia hadn’t just heard Eric flat-out deny knowing her, she might’ve believed him.
Snakes under the same rock, really.
Once they stepped out of the elevator, Lucas finally asked, “Did you come for something in particular, ma’am?”
Amelia lifted the bag in her hand.
“Just need Eric to give this to his mom for me.”
“That’s all?” Lucas asked.
The gift was all, but there was still the whole divorce thing she needed to settle with Eric.
That obviously required talking in person.
“I’ve got something I need to discuss with him, too.”
Lucas replied, “Mr.
Reeves hasn’t had breakfast yet.”
Amelia blinked.
Huh?
What’s that got to do with anything?
Seeing her confusion, Lucas explained, “He tends to get pretty grumpy when he skips breakfast.
This isn’t the best time to bring things up—it might not go well.”
She’d heard of morning crankiness, but not “hungry-cranky.” What kind of weird habit was that?
“Doesn’t your cafeteria serve breakfast?”
“Mr.
Reeves is picky. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
Never eats there.”
That, she believed.
Eric’s taste was legendarily fussy.
Too much seasoning?
He hated it.
Eggplant with even a bit of skin left?
Nope.
Stir-fry not cooked just right?
Big no.
Leftovers?
Forget it—he’d get a stomachache.
And although he hated cilantro, he insisted it be added to noodle soup first…
just so he could pick it out one by one.
Sometimes Amelia couldn’t help but joke—thank God Eric was born into the right family.
If he grew up in an average household, he’d have gotten smacked silly before kindergarten.
Thinking about it, Amelia said, “There are plenty of high-end restaurants downstairs.
Go grab him something.”
Lucas gave a polite smile.
“He’s not fond of those either.
He prefers homemade meals.
Actually, he really liked the lunchboxes he used to bring from home.”
That hint was loud and clear.
All this breakfast fuss was just an excuse to make her do something.
She hadn’t made Eric lunch in over a year.
When she first married into the Reeves family, Amelia had her whole world orbiting around Eric.
Back then, she hadn’t even started her voice acting career, and all her time and energy were poured into him.
She must’ve watched too many cheesy dramas, believing that “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” so she worked hard on her cooking skills, hoping to catch his attention.
But truth was, she just didn’t have the knack for it.
After a month of trying, her food could barely be classified as edible.
Still, she was all in, happily making lunchboxes for him.
She could recall the one dish she was the most proud of — when she had him taste it, he only said two words: “Tastes bad.”
Refusing to give up, she made another lunch the next day and practically forced it into his hands as he left for work.
She even shamelessly promised, “It’ll taste good this time, promise.”
Eric couldn’t even be bothered to look at her.
She spent the whole day anxious, and the moment he got home, she couldn’t wait to ask, “Did it taste better than yesterday’s?”
This time, he gave her four words: “Still bad.
Stop cooking.”
But the lunchbox was empty, and that gave her a glimmer of hope.
So she doubled down on her efforts, and every evening, Eric came home with an empty container.
She’d been naïve, thinking they had something real, that he actually had feelings for her.
Until one day, she saw with her own eyes—him dumping the entire meal straight into the trash.
He didn’t confront her because he didn’t want to tear the illusion apart.
After that, she never stepped foot in the kitchen again.
Eric never brought it up either.
Probably for the best.
Must’ve been exhausting pretending to eat all that every day.
And now, when she came to talk about their divorce, he had Lucas use this stunt to humiliate her?
She tried to back out.
“Are you kidding me?
By the time I finish cooking and come back, he’ll have clocked out.
Then where am I supposed to find him?”
Lucas was already a step ahead.
“There’s a private kitchen in the company cafeteria.
Fully stocked.
You’re welcome to use it, ma’am.”
Totally premeditated.
Just waiting for her to bite the bait.
But she didn’t have much of a choice now.
If she refused, Eric would just continue dodging her.
Then there’d be no end to this divorce issue.
A few minutes later, Lucas led her to the private kitchen.
It was way bigger than she expected, spotless, and fully equipped with everything she needed.
She was in no mood to cook, her mind stuck on the divorce.
Didn’t even know what to make.
She stared at the ingredients for ages before a recipe finally came to mind.
About twenty minutes later, she whipped up one meat and one veggie dish.
They looked okay at least.
Taking off her apron, she turned to Lucas and said, “Alright, Mr.
Hayes, lead the way.”
Eric’s office was on the 12th floor.
Lucas knocked and said in a low voice, “Mr.
Reeves, your wife brought you lunch.”
Amelia was shocked.
Wasn’t it him who asked for this?
Then came Eric’s cool voice from inside, “Let her in.”
Lucas guided her in, set the lunch on the desk, and quickly stepped out, even kindly shutting the door for them.
Amelia clenched her hands, awkwardly frozen in place.
His office was massive, decorated in a minimalist style.
A whole wall was glass, and sunlight poured through the blinds, casting dramatic shadows across the room and his face.
Whether it was his sharp eyebrows and narrow eyes, or that firm jawline and cold mouth, every feature hit her aesthetic sweet spot.
She’d seen him a million times, but somehow, he still made her heart race.
“You planning to just stand there?” Eric spoke, his voice flat.