Dropping the final words, Chloe slung her expensive handbag over her shoulder, wearing a calm expression mixed with a bit of guilt, turning to look at Eleanor and Margaret: “Second Auntie, Mother, I am incredibly sorry for this inconvenience; for today’s family dinner, please excuse my absence.” Having finished her sentence, without the slightest hesitation or delay, she turned on her heels and decisively walked straight out of the stifling atmosphere of the common living room.
Arriving at the hall area, she hurriedly snatched the Trench coat from the rack, slipped her feet into her high-heeled sandals, quickly used force to push the main door wide open, and rushed out onto the porch.
Right at this moment, a yellow cab was driving sluggishly past the deserted area.
Chloe hurriedly raised her hand to wave, the car pulled over and stopped, she immediately pulled the door open, dashed in, and flopped down onto the back seat.
“Drive.” Chloe heard her own voice trembling as she issued that command.
She cast a glance up through the rearview mirror; it seemed that under the dim streetlights, there was a tall male figure urgently chasing after her.
Was it Julian?
Chloe pursed her lips, not wanting to use her brain to overthink too much, nor wanting to care about how the relatives of the Quinn family would whisper and evaluate her impulsive action of leaving like that.
Her threshold of endurance right now was incredibly fragile, as if about to snap, and every time someone heartlessly stretched that boundary nerve to breaking point, only a single silhouette appeared in her head: the third party, Serena.
And the petty person standing behind swinging that damaging weapon was also only one person: that bitch Madison.
Every source of this toxic mess also ultimately pointed to a single person: her husband, Julian Quinn.
The reason people like Madison and Serena had enough confidence and standing to hurt Chloe’s pride, analyzed to the very end, was also because of Julian’s attitude.
She had realized a cruel truth herself: loving too deeply, hence giving birth to the feeling of being too terrified of loss…
This time it was Chloe’s turn to apply the disappearing tactic; for several days in a row, she slept at another apartment, not bothering to return to the Penthouse.
That day after the drama of fleeing the Quinn estate, Julian made several consecutive phone calls.
Chloe answered and bluntly expressed her desire to be left alone in peace to rethink everything for a few days.
Her attitude was incredibly cold, entirely without any agitation or arguing.
And Julian had always shown himself to be a gentleman who respected her personal boundaries, so he did not stubbornly force the issue too much.
It was just that the unusual difference was…
“Ding!” A clear notification chime of an iMessage rang out.
In the private office on the second floor of GY headquarters, Chloe was wearing an elegant creamy white silk blouse with puffed sleeves paired with an off-the-shoulder ruffled collar, straight-leg black trousers, and Louboutin black pointed high heels.
Her bouncy, wavy brown hair was neatly pinned at the back of her head using a sketching pencil, creating an edgy bun style.
She was originally highly focused, holding a pen and sketching a new jewelry design, but hearing the message notification sound, she casually picked up her iPhone to look.
The screen displayed a message from Julian: Have you had lunch yet?
For the past few days, right on cue at morning, noon, and night, he regularly sent such bland inquiry messages; it was truly difficult for Chloe to even intentionally forget to eat.
She tossed the phone onto the glass table, raising her hand to massage the space between her eyebrows.
She had clearly declared her desire to move out and avoid that man for a few days to find peace of mind; why did she keep having the feeling that his presence was increasingly and strongly invading?
This childish game of texting to show concern and inquire; in the past, even in her dreams, Chloe would never have dared to think a cold CEO like Julian would lower himself to do it.
“Exhausted by the deadline, aren’t you?” At this moment, the glass door of the office was pushed open.
Harper stepped in from outside, her hand even carrying a few delivery bags from a Michelin-starred restaurant: “Stop burying your face in those busy sketches, take a break and have lunch!” Chloe obediently put the pencil down, stood up, and obediently walked over to sit down on the armchair in front of the tea table, waiting for her friend Harper to arrange the food and feed her.
“Wow!
Grilled chicken breast salad!” Chloe, seeing Harper open the paper box, immediately took off her haughty mask, smiling with crinkling eyes in joy: “Thank you so much Harper!” “Get out of the way.” Harper frustratingly tore the plastic wrapper to take out a pair of disposable chopsticks, snapped them apart, then stuck them into the box and handed it to Chloe.
She stood with her hands on her hips, watching Chloe happily munching away with a slightly disgusted expression: “I’m speaking seriously; when exactly do you plan to definitively resolve the family paperwork issue, huh?
Hogging the sofa in my apartment these past few days, not even bothering to pay your share of rent or food money, is that acceptable?” Chloe sucked a lettuce leaf into her mouth, mumbling in protest: “Come on, Harper, being a businessperson, don’t be so calculatingly petty and narrow-minded.
At worst, at the end of this year’s financial reporting period, I will voluntarily transfer all my share commission money to you to pay for rent!” “As if I want it!” Hearing that, Harper jumped up in agitation: “Receiving a massive sum of money from you like that, do you plan to leech off my house permanently and act like an old maid until you die of old age?” Saying that, she pretended to shudder, getting goosebumps: “That is truly too terrifying a prospect; I still want to date and find a boyfriend, you know!” “I won’t hog it for that long, Harper.
Wait until the chain of events of Fashion Week concludes smoothly, I will book an interior design company to clean up and redecorate my Penthouse on the Upper East Side, then I will move out and not bother you anymore~ But my living room will always welcome you to come over and bother me.” “You know full well my complaining isn’t meant to chase you away.” Harper frowned and sighed.
Hearing that, Chloe fell silent and lowered her eyes.
She naturally was perceptive enough to know Harper’s nagging was not out of that narrow-minded intention; it was just that her friend was anxiously urging her to face the issue, resolve it, and quickly sever the toxic relationship with Julian.
Either clearly separate, or frankly reconcile.
It was just that she was still cowardly, constantly hesitating and hiding here, truly lacking any mettle of a businesswoman.
Seeing Chloe’s small face reveal a look of sorrow, loneliness, and sinking deep into thought, Harper again felt whether her reminders just now were a bit too rude and heavy.
It was all because of this rotten, sharp mouth of hers, constantly urging, urging, urging; the person involved hadn’t even found a solution yet, so what the hell was she urging from the outside for!
“Cough, cough…” Coughing lightly twice in slight embarrassment to cover up, Harper only then softened her voice to continue speaking: “But analyzing it logically on the other hand, a husband and wife having a cold war and arguing is normal drama.
But my viewpoint is, this time if that powerful guy of yours doesn’t know his place and resolutely brings his face to you to apologize sincerely, we must resolutely hold our value and not bother moving back!” While speaking, she thoughtfully pushed the tray of pan-seared chicken breast with passion fruit sauce toward Chloe: “Eat, eat, you’re becoming skin and bones over there!” Chloe felt Harper’s care, even if it was somewhat forced.
She smiled and picked up a piece of chicken meat: “Harper, at the end of the day, you are also a tragic single woman without a dating life.
Me taking this opportunity to spend more time keeping you company, isn’t that wonderful?” “Fck off!” …
The large paved square in front of the Javits Center exhibition hall in Manhattan was currently incredibly bustling.
The massive square had been turned by the organizers into a VIP parking lot; pedestrians passing by who didn’t know better might think this place was hosting a large-scale supercar exhibition for the ultra-rich.
In reality, today was officially the opening ceremony of New York Fashion Week.
It was estimated that if at this moment some madman drove a car straight into the exhibition center lobby, killing ten people, seven of them would bear the title of supermodel, two would be internationally renowned designers, and the remaining one would certainly be the founding investor of some luxury brand.
Chloe and Harper were also present at the entrance very early.
According to the customary practice of the fashion industry, the first two or three days of the schedule were basically appetizers, yielding the stage for a few mid-tier brands or streetwear labels to perform to create widespread hype and buzz.
The first-floor area of the exhibition center inherently had a massive area; it had been cleverly divided by the organizers into several large hall venues.
This time, dividing the areas like that was coincidentally very convenient, allowing several brands to simultaneously host their runway shows at the same time without causing obstruction or sound interference to each other.
This was also the reason the organizers of New York Fashion Week this time confidently dared to approve the applications of so many participating brands: there was surplus space, once the performance setup was done, just go wild as you please!
The two GY directors, originally picky and fussy, ultimately decided to drop by to watch the runway show of a second-tier international brand named Momo.
The positioning segment of this brand targeted successful corporate women.
Their products leaned towards practicality, not too ridiculous or ostentatious, but also entirely devoid of the impractical artistic showcase nature like some bizarre brands on Haute Couture runways.
Hearing faint rumors in the industry that after this chain of Fashion Week events, the Momo brand ambitiously wanted to expand its market share to attack the US market.
Therefore, Chloe and Harper decided to prepare to visit and watch the show to gauge the quality beforehand.
If their evaluation felt the product collection had decent potential, the next strategic step would be preparing a negotiation proposal with Momo’s Director in charge.
They wanted to probe if there was a collaborative opportunity to jointly launch a new limited edition collection.
If the negotiation deal succeeded, it would truly be good news driving revenue high, a win-win game for both sides.
After finishing enjoying the runway show, when they stepped out into the lobby, it was nearly 12 noon.
Chloe and Harper’s overall assessment of Momo’s concept was still quite satisfied.
Originally intending to catch a taxi straight back to company headquarters to instruct assistant Rachel to draft and send an email expressing a collaborative intention of a “flirting” nature.
But Harper had a thought that since they had already taken the trouble to come all this way, and the afternoon schedule still continued with a few shows at the exhibition center, it would be more effective to directly hold their ground here and proactively approach to strike up a conversation on the spot.
Unanimously finalizing the decision that after lunch they would sneak to the backstage runway area to see if they bumped into any acquaintances in the industry who could help connect and introduce them to the person in charge of Momo’s project this time.
Chloe and Harper immediately launched into a lively debate on the eternal topic: what to eat for lunch today.
Right in the vicinity of the Javits Center exhibition center, there were two quite famous luxury restaurants.
One was a trendy organic fast-food restaurant; the other specialized in Italian-style Fine Dining Western food.
Ultimately settling it with a game of rock-paper-scissors, Harper won the bet, so the two ladies strode towards the Italian-style Western restaurant.
As soon as they pushed the glass door into the restaurant, they requested to choose a VIP table position sitting next to the floor-to-ceiling window.
Before their bottoms even had time to settle warmly into the seats, they heard an incredibly enthusiastic male voice carrying an English accent mixed with French calling out from behind: “Noreen?” Because Chloe was busy putting her handbag away and sitting with her back toward the aisle, she was still slightly bewildered and hadn’t reacted in time to this stage name.
But Harper, sitting in the position opposite her, sharply saw the person approaching clearly.
The edgy girl’s face immediately revealed an expression of eager anticipation, as if watching a dramatic movie.
“Miss Noreen!” A man bearing romantic beauty with golden blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and an incredibly tall stature walked straight to their table.
It was none other than the Creative Director, Hector: “What a wonderful coincidence, I did not expect to be lucky enough to meet you in this place…” Saying that, the gallant man turned to nod to Harper: “Of course, very honored to greet the incredibly beautiful Miss Tina as well.” Harper smirked and haughtily raised an eyebrow, nodding once as a response to social politeness.
Of course, deep down she knew full well that this smooth-talking French man’s eyes were inherently glued tightly to Chloe, not caring at all about her own existence.
“Hello, Mr.
Hector.” People often have a proverb: you don’t raise a hand to strike a smiling face, let alone that the other party was an incredibly important collaborative partner.
Chloe immediately changed her expression, blooming a polite, gentle industrial smile: “We just finished watching a morning runway show, and conveniently dropped by this restaurant to have lunch.” “What a wonderful idea, I also coincidentally dropped by to have lunch.” Hector blinked his charming blue eyes.
Chloe somehow was dazzled into seeing a bit of pitiful, coquettish intention from him.
“…
If you do not mind, how about sitting and eating together?” Chloe, under the pressure of Harper’s triumphant, teasing gaze, had no choice but to brace herself, open her mouth, and extend a social invitation.
“Huh?” Hector, hearing such an invitation, appeared incredibly excited and joyful, but immediately pretended to hesitate slightly, tactfully declining: “But I still have a companion who is about to arrive to have lunch with me.
If we join tables like that, I fear it might intrude upon the privacy of you two ladies?” He always prided himself on being a polite French gentleman; naturally, he could not make an ungraceful move that made the ladies feel too awkward.
Even though deep down he intensely desired to seize this invitation to approach the beauty, he couldn’t just cast aside his towering gentlemanly demeanor because of that.