Simon Hawthorne sat behind his desk, maintaining his usual meticulous image. Seeing it was Zoe Lancaster, he nonchalantly pushed up his glasses, his demeanor showing no signs of surprise.
The woman beside him had deliberately pulled up a chair to sit right next to him. One hand rested intimately on Simon’s forearm. With a coy and coquettish expression, she looked every bit the part of a pampered and indulged woman.
Zoe’s eyes flickered.
Clutching the folder, she stepped forward in silence and placed it by Simon’s hand. "This is the data comparison of before and after the PR campaign regarding Miss Joyce. Please take a look, Mr. Hawthorne."
Stella Joyce sized Zoe up thoughtfully.
For a brief moment, she was genuinely surprised. The woman before her had incredibly striking features. Even after navigating the entertainment industry for so many years, Stella rarely saw anyone with such stunning looks.
It was an almost subconscious comparison that made the smile on Stella’s lips fade just a fraction. "And who is this?"
She leaned closer to Simon, practically pressing herself against him.
Simon reached out, picked up the folder, and replied in a detached tone, "An employee from the PR department."
His attitude was so indifferent. It was as if Zoe were truly an insignificant nobody, entirely unworthy of his attention.
Even though she had braced herself mentally, Zoe still felt a stifling tightness in her chest. In the end, as his lawful wife, she was treated like some shameful, hidden mistress.
"But she’s so pretty. With looks like that, she’d more than thrive in the entertainment circle." Stella smiled amiably, even shaking Simon’s arm in a spoiled, coquettish manner. "Simon, who’s prettier? Her or me?"
Zoe frowned imperceptibly. Stella was merely fishing for an answer that fed her ego. To ask such a question right in front of someone she had just met was incredibly offensive.
She subconsciously glanced at Simon.
He didn’t even look up. His tone was devoid of emotion. "Do you think just anyone can be compared to you?"
Zoe had anticipated many possible answers. Even if he had said, "You’re prettier," or "You’re the most beautiful in my eyes," it would have been a thousand times better than what he actually said. With one sentence, he had invisibly trampled her into the dust.
Zoe forced herself to maintain a polite, professional smile. After all, in Simon’s eyes, she was indeed nothing more than a mere prop married in to bring him good luck. "If there is nothing else, Mr. Hawthorne, I will get back to work."
If she had known Stella would be here—and that she’d be subjected to such unprovoked humiliation—she never would have come.
Only then did Simon lift his head, appearing as though he was about to say something. But Stella suddenly cried out in shock, "Simon, it hurts! This utility knife is so sharp."
Simon’s gaze shifted to Stella’s fingertips. Zoe also took a glance. Hah. It was quite serious, indeed. A phantom wound if there ever was one.
Simon looked at that soft, slender white hand and frowned. His heart was probably aching for her. Zoe didn’t want to watch this affectionate display any longer. Nursing a bout of petty anger that no one cared about anyway, she turned on her heel and walked out.
Listening to the fading footsteps, Simon finally cast a sidelong glance toward the door. His expression remained completely unchanged, as unfathomable and unreadable as ever.
Stella hadn’t missed the look he had just shot in that direction.
He opened a drawer, found a Band-Aid, and handed it to Stella. "Put it on wherever the wound is."
Stella then blinked playfully. "I was just teasing you. I’m not really hurt. Why so anxious, Simon?"
Simon didn’t answer.
As Stella toyed with the Band-Aid, she said with feigned casualty, "I don’t really like that woman from just now."
Simon looked at her impassively.
Stella tilted her head like a spoiled child asking for candy. It was hard to tell if she was joking or serious. "Why don’t you just fire her?"
The office fell silent. Simon lowered his head and resumed signing documents.
A short while later, his indifferent voice drifted through the air. "Don’t push your luck."
Stella fell silent, the smile in her eyes freezing for a split second. She didn’t make any more unreasonable demands, but she did cast a thoughtful glance toward the door.
──
Outside the office, Zoe ran into Secretary Linden, who had fled the scene earlier.
Acting as if nothing had happened, Secretary Linden displayed incredible psychological fortitude, flashing Zoe a fake, professional smile.
Zoe paused before closing the distance between them in a few quick strides. "What’s Mr. Hawthorne’s schedule like lately?"
Secretary Linden shook his head awkwardly, naturally not daring to leak information so easily. "I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty to disclose Mr. Hawthorne’s itinerary."
Understanding his predicament, Zoe rephrased her question. "When is he not busy? Like, when does he have recreational or entertainment activities?"
Looking into Zoe’s expectant eyes, Secretary Linden felt his resolve crumble. When a goddess was pleading like that, who could resist? Gritting his teeth, he turned around and pretended to mutter to himself casually, "Oh man, Mr. Hawthorne has a social engagement at nine o’clock tonight in Room 3011 on the third floor of The Jade Palace. I need to get his itinerary sorted out."
The Jade Palace? Zoe remembered the social dinner Director Carter had arranged for tonight. Coincidentally, it was also at The Jade Palace.
A plan quickly formed in her mind. She mouthed a silent "thank you" and hurried back to her department.
After all, the incident at the bar yesterday remained unresolved.
Although the number she had gotten from Mercy Hawthorne didn’t match the one left by the male escort that day, she had a nagging suspicion that something fishy was still going on. Or perhaps it was just a spark of wishful thinking in her heart. Either way, she couldn’t rest easy until she knew for sure. But since Simon seemed far too busy to meet with her in private, she had no choice but to find an opportunity to test him herself.
In her current predicament, she was truly walking on thin ice. She couldn’t afford a single misstep.
──
At seven o’clock that evening, right on the dot, Director Carter drove Zoe and a few capable subordinates to The Jade Palace.
Kingsford was already deep into the harsh winter. Biting cold air invaded the city, and fine threads of snow drifted down from the sky. The Jade Palace was located in the Easton District. They arrived exactly at seven-forty.
Upon stepping out of the car, Zoe made a point to scan the parking area, hoping to spot Simon’s vehicle. She found no sign of it, but since Secretary Linden had said so, it was practically a sure thing.
They had booked a private dining room on the second floor.
Tonight, they were meeting with Mr. Grayson from Kingsford’s Blue Shield Media. The most crucial part of working in public relations was dealing with the media. Building solid cooperative relationships was essential to carrying out press releases, guiding public opinion, and managing online crises and operations.
Before entering the private room, Director Carter specifically pulled Zoe aside and warned her. "Blue Shield Media is our key strategic partner for the coming year. Mr. Grayson wields a lot of influence, and we absolutely cannot afford to offend him. Even if he does something unpleasant... you better grit your teeth and bear it!"
Zoe understood what Director Carter meant. It was just that this Mr. Grayson had a notoriously poor reputation in the industry. His biggest flaw was that he was a brazen lecher.
Upon entering the room, Zoe saw a middle-aged man sitting at the seat of honor. He looked refined and well-mannered, lacking the typical middle-aged spread. Yet, this wolf in sheep’s clothing immediately zeroed in on Zoe standing behind Director Carter. His eyes instantly glinted with predatory interest as he waved. "Director Carter, long time no see! And who might this be?"
Director Carter pushed Zoe forward. "She’s a supervisor in our department. You can just call her Lancaster."
Mr. Grayson reached out and grasped Zoe’s hand. "Director Carter, you truly have an abundance of talent around you. To secure a supervisor position at such a young age, she must possess some extraordinary skills, right?"
Zoe looked at Mr. Grayson’s hand, which was stroking the back of hers and refusing to let go. Coupled with his remark about ’extraordinary skills’, she instantly grasped his disgusting insinuation. She was no longer a naive rookie in the workplace. Her stomach churned with nausea. "You flatter me, Mr. Grayson."
She tried to pull her hand back, but Mr. Grayson unceremoniously yanked her forward, forcing her to sit down right next to him. "Come, come, have a few drinks with me. As a veteran in this industry, I have a duty to take good care of the younger generation."