Chloe felt a strange heat building inside her.
- “Chloe Miller, you… it’s so hot!”
- “Chloe Miller, calm down!” Michael commanded, pulling her away from the bed. “Set the AC to 60 degrees Fahrenheit!” he barked at a hotel employee who had followed him in.
- “Mr. Thompson, this…” the employee stammered.
- “She was probably drugged,” Michael stated, his expression grim. “I’ll take her to the hospital. Find out who was in that room!”
- “Yes, Mr. Thompson,” Alex Davis replied, who had also just arrived.
Later, in a private room at a top-tier hospital in South Beach, Chloe slowly opened her eyes.
- “You’re awake,” Michael said, sitting beside her.
- “Why am I in a hospital?” Chloe mumbled, her head still foggy.
- “If I hadn’t brought you here, you would have torn me apart,” Michael replied, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “I never thought you’d be so wild behind that innocent face.”
- “What do you mean?” Chloe asked, a blush creeping up her neck. You smell nice. Her mind reeled. What have I done? I actually forced a kiss on my boss!
Michael continued, oblivious to her internal panic.
- “Yesterday you swore to win our bet, and then you sneaked out during work to hook up with someone.”
- “No!” Chloe protested. “I went to pick up Mr. Wilson… Oh no, Mr. Wilson!”
Michael raised an eyebrow.
- “Mr. Wilson? I don’t recall any client named Mr. Wilson in our records. Nice try making up stories.”
- “I’m not lying!” Chloe insisted. “Then why was there a creep in the room?”
- “I must have gone to the wrong room,” she realized, her memory slowly returning. “Who told you to meet Mr. Wilson?”
- “Jessica.”
Michael immediately turned to Alex.
- “Alex Davis, bring Jessica to the hospital.”
Jessica, who had been listening from outside the room, gasped. “What?! You incompetent idiot!” she muttered, realizing her plan had backfired. She quickly composed herself as Alex approached.
- “This wasn’t my fault, Miss. And Mr. Thompson wants to see you at the hospital.”
Back in Chloe’s hospital room, Michael was carefully applying a cream to her face.
- “Mr. Thompson, the hospital is too dry. Could you pass me that?”
- “Your hands are dirty,” Michael said, gently taking her hand. “Let me do it. Come here. Let me see your face.” He paused, looking at her intently. “You seem to really like this.” He was referring to the company’s new skincare product.
- “Our company’s products are just that good,” Chloe said, trying to diffuse the awkwardness. “Don’t think a few compliments will get you a permanent position.”
- “Cheapskate,” Michael mumbled, a slight smirk on his face.
Just then, Jessica and Alex entered.
- “Mr. Thompson, I’ve brought them.”
Jessica, feigning innocence, asked,
- “Mr. Thompson, you wanted to see me?”
- “Did you send Chloe Miller to Redwood International Room 206?” Michael’s voice was devoid of emotion.
- “Huh? I think that did happen,” Jessica stammered, trying to recall. “How come I haven’t heard that there’s a client named Mr. Wilson in our company?”
Michael’s eyes narrowed further.
- “Mr. Lee? I thought I told her to pick up Mr. Wilson. Oh no!” Jessica exclaimed, realizing her mistake. “Am I getting fired again?!”
- “Really?” Michael pressed. “Then why wasn’t Mr. Wilson in the room? There was a pervert inside.” He looked at Alex. “About what I asked you to check…”
- “Mr. Thompson, the front desk records show the name as Ryan Peterson,” Alex reported.
- “Ryan Peterson?!” Michael exclaimed, his voice rising. “That can’t be right! I’ll call Mr. Wilson immediately!” He pulled out his phone. “What?! You already left?!” He looked at Jessica, his face thunderous. “Sir, I didn’t know Mr. Wilson had already left. So the person Chloe Miller went to meet was actually that Ryan Peterson, that bastard.” He paused, then waved his hand dismissively at Jessica. “You can go.”
Jessica, shaken, quickly left. Suddenly, Chloe heard a familiar voice.
- “Chloe!” Her Grandma, looking worried, rushed into the room.
- “Grandma! What are you doing here?!” Chloe exclaimed. “Isn’t this the person from Chloe’s red book?” Michael muttered under his breath, recognizing the old man from the elevator.
- “Grandma, what brings you here? Are you feeling unwell?” Chloe asked, concerned.
- “I’m fine, sweetheart. I came to refill my prescription,” Grandma replied, then her eyes landed on Michael. “Young man, you’re Chloe’s husband?”
Chloe’s eyes widened.
- “Chloe Miller, you told your family I’m your husband?” Michael asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
- “It’s not me!” Chloe protested. “Grandma, there’s a misunderstanding!”
- “Misunderstanding for what? Your marriage certificate?” Grandma looked confused. “He’s my boss, not my husband.”
- “Boss?” Grandma blinked. “Must be my old memory failing. Grandma’s getting old. Made a mistake.”
Michael, still amused, took Chloe aside.
- “Chloe Miller, come here for a second.”
- “Boss,” Chloe said, trying to maintain a professional demeanor.
- “Let me make this clear,” Michael said, his voice dropping. “I don’t like you. Nor will I ever. And office romances are off limits. Whatever lies you’ve been spreading, you need to clarify this mess. Otherwise, you’ll only embarrass yourself.”
Chloe scoffed.
- “Who’d even like you? Crazy.” She rolled her eyes. “This is absurd. Let’s go change and head home, Grandma.”
That evening, Chloe was getting ready for bed, holding her favorite pajamas. This outfit. Why is it identical to my mystery husband’s? she wondered, a strange feeling in her gut. But the same outfit looks much better on my mysterious husband.
The next day at the office, a co-worker gossiped,
- “Newbie, do you know why President Thompson sent Ryan Peterson to Denver for President Wilson?”
Another chimed in,
- “Ryan Peterson was already fired, wasn’t he? He’s being specially assigned. From now on, he won’t be that dignified manager anymore. He’ll be stuck dealing with President Wilson.”
- “President Wilson? Is he difficult to deal with?” Chloe asked.
- “You’re new here. President Wilson loves extreme sports,” the co-worker explained. “Every year, the company picks brave staff from the secretarial dept to handle him. That pervert, Ryan Peterson, is such a coward. He’ll probably wet his pants daily now.”
Chloe couldn’t help but smile.
- “Serves him right. He shouldn’t harass female colleagues.”
Michael’s voice cut through the air.
- “Bring coffee to my office.”
- “Yes, sir,” Chloe replied, heading to the breakroom.
- “Come in,” Michael said when she knocked.
- “Your coffee, President Thompson,” Chloe announced, placing it on his desk. She noticed a notebook on his desk, its cover familiar. So she is this obsessed with me? Michael thought, looking at the notebook. “Where’s my notebook? Forget it. I’ll organize it digitally. I made myself perfectly clear yesterday. Why won’t she give up?”
Chloe, still beside his desk, overheard his muttered thoughts. He’s got bad luck in love. Just reject them outright. Say you already have someone you like. If all else fails, say you’re into guys.
Michael looked up at Chloe, a strange expression on his face.
- “Mr. Thompson, so it’s here with you. Actually, I already have someone special.”
As Michael looked at his notebook, he noticed the radiant smile on Chloe’s face. Yes, it didn’t work. He sighed.
- “You… can you tone it down a bit? Stop being so obvious. Ah. Why is she still here?”
- “Mr. Thompson,” Chloe said, a blush creeping up her face. What’s happening to me? Why is my heart racing? I’m into guys. “Why is he telling me this? Am I his trusted confidant now? But Mr. Thompson is married. This must be why they divorced.” She felt a pang of sympathy. “Don’t worry, Mr. Thompson. I’ll take your secret to the grave.”
Michael looked at her, confused.
- “Mr. Thompson, wait, that’s not right. She’s the one who likes me. Why should I avoid her?”
He then called out,
- “Two people come with me to dine with Mr. Anderson from Hangtong. Jessica, you’re with me. You come too, Chloe Miller.”
Chloe, surprised, quickly grabbed her things. Jessica, however, glared.
- “Your coffee, Mr. Thompson. She just started working here. She can already go out to discuss matters with Mr. Thompson.” She scoffed. “Who knows if she’s using underhanded tactics to seduce Mr. Thompson. Mr. Thompson has a wife! Is she trying to be his mistress? Jessica’s still here. Chloe Miller, you’ll pay for this.”
Later, at a chic restaurant in Silicon Valley, Michael and Chloe were already seated with Mr. Anderson, a notoriously finicky client. Jessica arrived, looking furious.
- “Mr. Anderson, long time no see, Mr. Thompson. Please, come in.”
Chloe, seeing the menu, quickly said,
- “Excuse me, may I have a menu? That’s all, thank you.” She ordered quickly.
Jessica, overhearing, immediately leaned over to the waiter.
- “What did she just order? Replace the longjing shrimp with spiced peanuts. Swap the mu tie for beer.” She gave the waiter a knowing look. “Understood?”
- “Mr. Anderson is allergic to peanuts,” Jessica whispered, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Chloe Miller, let’s see how you handle this.”
When the food arrived, Mr. Anderson looked at the spiced peanuts with alarm.
- “Why did you order beer? I requested bijiu,” he said, looking at Jessica.
- “I’ll fix this immediately,” Jessica stammered, realizing she’d messed up her own plan.
Mr. Anderson turned to Michael, his face tightening.
- “Mr. Thompson, what’s the meaning of this? You knew about my peanut allergy, yet you ordered so many peanuts? Chloe Miller, explain this menu choice. Aren’t you aware of Mr. Anderson’s allergy? It seems Thompson Enterprises isn’t serious about this partnership. We might as well call off the contract.”
Michael, his expression unreadable, spoke calmly.
- “Mr. Anderson, she’s an intern. A new hire, still learning the ropes. I’ll have these dishes removed at once.” He looked at the waiter. “Is that acceptable? Our apologies. The wrong dishes were served.”
- “What’s going on here?” Chloe asked, genuinely confused.
- “Remove them immediately,” Michael ordered the waiter.
The waiter, flustered, brought out new dishes.
- “All dishes are served. Please enjoy your meal.”
Mr. Anderson, still looking annoyed, said,
- “Mr. Anderson, let’s conclude for today. We’ll discuss the contract another time.”
Just then, Michael’s phone rang.
- “Hi, honey! About the anniversary gift… Oh, I’ll come home early.” He smiled into the phone.
Mr. Anderson’s face suddenly softened.
- “Mr. Thompson, my wife’s gift? Was that your arrangement? She absolutely adored it! Could I take some extra for her?”
Michael smiled.
- “Mr. Anderson, I’m aware of your deep bond with Mrs. Anderson. That’s why I took the liberty to gift her a set.” He gestured to a beautifully wrapped package. “You’re welcome to take this set home.”
Mr. Anderson beamed.
- “Since my wife has such faith in your company, I’m willing to collaborate! I’m glad you approve.” He raised his glass. “Mr. Anderson, a toast to you! Here’s to you, Mr. Anderson! To our successful collaboration!”
- “Mr. Thompson, I’ll head out first,” Chloe said, discreetly making her exit. “It was a pleasure working with you.”
- “A pleasure working with you,” Michael replied, shaking Mr. Anderson’s hand.
- “Mr. Anderson, drive safely,” Jessica added, trying to regain some favor.
Michael turned to Jessica, his eyes cold.
- “Jessica, what was wrong with you today? Exposing company flaws in front of our clients?”
- “No, Mr. Thompson! I was just in a hurry!” Jessica stammered.
- “Enough excuses. Get back to work,” Michael commanded. “Submit a 1,000-word report to Alex Davis.”
- “Understood,” Jessica mumbled, defeated.
Michael then turned to Chloe, a small smile on his face.
- “How did you do it?”
Chloe leaned in conspiratorially.
- “Come closer and I’ll tell you.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Not telling.”
Michael rolled his eyes.
- “Chloe Miller, are you asking for trouble?”
- “You dummy,” Chloe teased. “There’s a courier.”
Later, in Michael’s black Cadillac Escalade, Chloe was clearly feeling the effects of the celebratory drinks.
- “Can’t hold your liquor but you drank so much?” Michael muttered, looking at her.
- “Mr. Thompson, are we returning to the villa?” Alex asked from the driver’s seat.
- “Not yet,” Michael replied. “Take her home first. Got it?”
- “Got it,” Alex confirmed.
- “Chloe Miller, wake up,” Michael said, trying to rouse her. “Where do you live? Where do you live?”
Suddenly, Alex slammed on the brakes.
- “Sorry, Mr. Thompson, there was a stray cat!”
Chloe’s phone, which had been buzzing, slipped from her hand. Alex picked it up.
- “Hello? Chloe, why aren’t you back yet?” It was her Grandma.
- “Grandma, I’m Chloe Miller’s boss. She’s had too much to drink. Could you give me your address? I’ll take her home.”
- “What’s wrong with Chloe?!” Grandma’s voice was filled with worry.
- “Grandma, please show us the way!” Michael urged.
- “Go! Go straight ahead!” Grandma instructed, relieved.
As they approached Chloe’s brownstone in a quiet part of Queens, Michael noticed a framed picture on the mantle, visible through the window. It was a marriage certificate. Marriage certificate. Chloe Miller is married.
Grandma met them at the door.
- “Young man, here, wipe your sweat. Thanks for your hard work.” She offered Michael a napkin.
- “Grandma,” Michael said carefully, “Chloe Miller got married?”
- “Yes, she said it was a whirlwind marriage,” Grandma replied, a slight frown on her face. “That husband of hers, after they got married, he hasn’t come back all year. Look at this one.” She pointed to the framed picture. “This man right here.” She squinted. “Why can’t I see the face clearly?”
Michael’s eyes widened. The man in the picture was him.
- “It’s me. I used it to prop up the table leg,” he blurted out, a bit flustered.
- “I’ll head back first,” he said quickly, making his escape. You’re married, yet you flirt with me? he thought, confusion swirling in his mind. “Take care.”
The next morning, at Thompson Enterprises, Jessica smirked at Chloe.
- “Morning, Mr. Thompson! Got the cold shoulder, huh? Some people think they’re irresistibly charming. Pathetic.”
Another colleague chimed in,
- “Chloe Miller, Mr. Thompson is a married man. Have some self-respect.”
- “You’ve all misunderstood,” Chloe insisted, her face flushing. “There’s nothing between us.”
- “It seems he treats you specially,” Jessica noted, unconvinced.
- “I swear! Our relationship is purely professional! Nothing could ever happen!” Chloe was desperate for them to believe her. “Besides, Mr. Thompson prefers men.”
Jessica raised an eyebrow.
- “At least you know your place.”
Michael, walking past, overheard the tail end of the conversation. He stopped at Chloe’s desk.
- “Mr. Thompson. Here’s Director Anderson’s file. You’ll handle the collaboration in three days.” He looked directly at her. “Close this deal and you’ll get a permanent position.”
- “Consider it done,” Chloe replied, a determined smile on her face.
Michael then caught her eye.
- “Stop laughing.”
Chloe blinked.
- “Huh? You’re married already. Why are you smiling at me?”
- “Are those two things related?” Michael asked, a hint of a smile on his own face.
- “Absolutely,” Chloe declared. “Fine, I’ll stop.”
- “I’ll make you some coffee,” she offered.
- “Don’t bother,” Michael said, turning away. “Jessica, you’ll handle my coffee from now on.”
- “Yes, sir,” Jessica replied, a triumphant smirk returning to her face.
Later, Jessica delivered the coffee.
- “Your coffee is ready, Mr. Thompson.” She then turned to Alex. “Mr. Thompson, I… I have a document here that needs Mr. Thompson’s signature.”
Alex, looking at her oddly, replied,
- “Mr. Thompson is intoxicated and resting at the Champs Hotel.”
Jessica’s eyes gleamed.
- “Understood. Chloe Miller is already on her way.” She made a quick call. “I’ll take Mr. Thompson’s phone soon to message his wife. When she arrives, lead her to catch them in the act. Remember, you must act before the medication takes effect. Ensure Chloe meets the wife face to face. This way, Mr. Thompson’s divorce proceedings will accelerate. Chloe will be branded a homewrecker and lose Mr. Thompson’s favor. Chloe Miller… Oh, Chloe Miller. You just wait to be caught having an affair by his wife.”
Chloe arrived at the luxurious Champs Hotel in Beverly Hills, feeling a strange sense of unease. Why is it so hot in here? What’s going on?
Alex, waiting in the hallway, said,
- “Assistant Chloe, Mr. Thompson is inside. Please open the door.”
Chloe pushed open the door to find Michael sprawled on the bed, his face flushed.
- “Mr. Thompson! Chloe Miller, what’s wrong?! You’re burning up! Do you have a fever? Let me take you to the hospital!”
Meanwhile, Jessica was on the phone, her voice filled with anticipation.
- “What? You said Madam Thompson didn’t go? Then Michael Thompson and Chloe Miller must have…”
The next morning, Chloe woke up with a gasp.
- “Ah! I actually slept with President Thompson!” She covered her face with her hands. “Does this count as cheating?” She remembered Michael’s condition. “President Thompson’s condition yesterday… He seemed to have been drugged.” She paused. “Wait. A woman texted me last night. But room 506 was President Thompson’s. Is President Thompson my secret husband?” She decided. “A simple phone call will confirm it.”
She dialed her «husband’s» number. A woman’s voice answered.
- “Hello? Hello? This is my husband’s phone. Why do you have it?”
Chloe, shocked, stammered,
- “Because your husband is in my bed!”
The woman on the other end chuckled.
- “Mrs. Thompson won’t tolerate this. She’ll definitely speed up the divorce process with Mr. Thompson.”
Chloe hung up, a wave of relief washing over her. “Thank goodness. It seems Mr. Thompson and my secret husband are not the same person.” She sighed. “What a relief. I’ve been bad-mouthing Mr. Thompson to my secret husband. If they were the same person, I’d rather die than face that.”
Suddenly, Michael stirred beside her.
- “Sleeping again? Is that all you do?”
Chloe shrieked, pulling the sheets up to her chin.
- “Excuse me! Why is my phone here?”
Alex Davis burst into the room.
- “Mr. Thompson, where were you yesterday? Your phone was off.”
- “I was drugged,” Michael stated, his voice tight. “Find out who did this.”
- “I’m on it right away,” Alex replied.
- “By the way, where is Chloe Miller?” Michael asked, looking around the room as if he had just realized she was there.
- “She wasn’t at the office today. She claimed to be unwell and took sick leave.”
- “Unwell, you say?” Michael looked at Chloe, a knowing glint in his eyes. He started to get out of bed.
- “Mr. Thompson, where are you going?” Alex asked, trying to block him.
Michael ignored him.
- “I’ve been thinking, you should know something.”
Chloe, trying to process everything, said,
- “A woman called me yesterday, claiming you were cheating.”
- “I can’t talk now,” Michael said, brushing past her. “Someone is at my door.”
It was Grandma.
- “You’re the boss who sent Chloe home last time, right?”
- “That’s me,” Michael replied. “I heard she wasn’t feeling well. I came to check on her.”
Chloe, surprised, came to the door.
- “Who is it? What brings the big boss here?”
- “This kid,” Grandma said, pulling Michael inside. “Please come in first. Sure, Grandma.”
- “Here, have some fruit,” Grandma offered.
- “Thanks, Grandma,” Michael said, taking a bite.
- “How old are you? Are you married?” Grandma asked, ever the matchmaker.
- “I’m 26 years old. I’m already married,” Michael replied.
Grandma looked disappointed.
- “Married? But you two look perfect for each other! It’s too bad you’re married.”
- “Grandma, I was–” Chloe started.
Michael, seeing his chance, interjected,
- “To be honest, I’m getting a divorce.”
- “A divorce?!” Grandma’s eyes lit up. “A divorce is good! Chloe’s husband hasn’t come back once in their whole marriage. He’s clearly no good. I’ll make sure Chloe divorces him. You and Chloe would be great together!”
So Chloe Miller’s husband treats her badly? Michael thought, a strange possessiveness stirring within him. Then I should take responsibility for her.
- “Grandma?” Chloe said, trying to steer the conversation away.
- “Enough about that,” Grandma waved her hand. “You two talk.”
Once Grandma left, Chloe turned to Michael.
- “Why are you here?”
- “I heard you weren’t feeling well,” Michael said, his gaze intense. “Is this about yesterday?” He reached out to touch her arm.
- “Stop!” Chloe recoiled. “What happened was just an accident! I know you were drugged. Let’s just pretend nothing happened, okay?”
- “I’ll take responsibility,” Michael said, stepping closer.
- “What can you do to take responsibility for me?” Chloe challenged, her voice a mix of anger and hurt. “Through a divorce? I’ll get a divorce.”
- “There’s no need,” Chloe said, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “I’m fine. Just leave.”
- “You’re not well,” Michael insisted. “I’ll stay to take care of you.”
Chloe grabbed her phone.
- “I need to call my husband.” She looked at Michael. “Do you want to listen?”
- “Oh, really? Perfect. I’ve never met him. Go ahead. I’ll stay quiet.” Michael sat down, looking intrigued.
- “Do you have some kind of fetish?” Chloe muttered under her breath. “Besides, it’s not a video call anyway. You can’t even see his face.”
- “It’s fine,” Michael replied, a hint of a smile on his face. “Just listening is okay.”
Chloe sighed.
- “We’re about to discuss some… intimate matters. Are you still sure you want to listen?”
Michael paused. Didn’t her grandmother say that her husband treated her badly? Are they actually loving after all? He hesitated, then stood up.
- “Don’t bother. Get some rest.” He turned to leave.
- “Why are you so interested in my personal life?” Chloe called after him. Could it be… that he likes me?
Later, Michael called Chloe’s «husband.»
- “Hey. You said someone used my phone to message you about cheating, but there’s no trace of it on my phone.”
- “They probably deleted it,” her husband replied. “When I called back later, a woman answered and said you were in her bed. She acted all smug about it. Then she went to claim ownership with my wife.”
I get it now, Michael thought.
- “By the way, do you mind if I’m with someone else?” he asked, a strange curiosity in his voice.
- “Of course not,” her husband replied. “Our marriage was a big deal. It was just for convenience. Besides, you should have your own life and relationships.”
- “Does that bother you?” Michael pressed.
- “Here’s the thing,” her husband continued. “I slept with someone yesterday too. Like you said, this is a marriage of convenience. I won’t interfere with your life or judge who you’re with.”
- “Good,” Michael said, a relieved sigh escaping him. “Just being nosy, was that girl someone special?”
- “I’m not sure,” her husband admitted, “but she’s really into me.”
- “So we should finalize the divorce soon,” Michael suggested.
- “Fine. Pick a date then,” her husband agreed. “Seven days from now, we’ll get divorced after we meet.”
In seven days, I’ll be single again, Michael thought, a strange mix of anticipation and trepidation. So, sure enough, it was his sweetheart who was asserting her sovereignty over me that day. He frowned. But she sent the wrong address with the same room number as Mr. Thompson.
The next day, Jessica, still fuming, called Chloe.
- “Hello? Chloe Miller! Mr. Anderson’s project. When will you follow up? Quit now if you can’t handle it. You’ll handle it first thing tomorrow. That’s a direct order from Mr. Thompson. Understood.”
Meanwhile, Chloe’s phone rang. It was the woman from the other day.
- “You claim to know who’s having an affair with my husband? I also know they’re meeting tomorrow. I’ll send you their meetup location. Go and see for yourself. See it with your own eyes. How dare she seduce my husband?! I’ll tear her apart! I’ll rip that hussy’s mouth off!”
Chloe, still in the office, saw the message with the location. She quickly approached Jessica.
- “Where is she?”
Jessica looked surprised.
- “Didn’t you assign her to Mr. Anderson? I never said to go today. Is she avoiding me?” Chloe handed her the phone. “Give me the address. I’m going to confront her.”
Chloe arrived at a bustling cafe in downtown Seattle, where Mr. Anderson was patiently waiting.
- “Mr. Anderson, I heard you’re a coffee connoisseur. What do you think of this blend?”
- “Not bad,” Mr. Anderson replied, taking a sip. “About the project details, I’ve reviewed everything. Let’s sign the contract.”
- “Okay,” Chloe said, pushing the contract across the table. “Mr. Anderson, please review the contract. Are there any issues with the terms?”
Just then, the cafe door burst open and a furious woman stormed in – it was Mrs. Anderson.
- “How dare you seduce my man?!” she shrieked, pointing at Chloe.
- “This isn’t what it looks like!” Chloe protested. “We were just discussing business!”
- “Shut your trap!” Mrs. Anderson screamed. “Don’t think I don’t know your dirty little secret! I saw everything between you two!”
- “Mrs. Anderson, this is a misunderstanding!” Chloe tried to explain. “I work for Thompson Enterprises!”
- “Still lying through your teeth?! I’ll teach you a lesson today!” Mrs. Anderson lunged at Chloe. “Everyone, come and see this homewrecker! This sly fox seduced my husband! Homewrecker, you love being the other woman! Put on a show for everyone!”
- “I didn’t! Let go of me!” Chloe struggled as Mrs. Anderson grabbed her arm.
Michael Thompson, who had been following Chloe, suddenly appeared.
- “Enough! Who do you think you are? Why don’t you mind your own business?!”
A bystander tried to intervene.
- “Trying to play the hero? Shut your mouth!”
Michael, his face a mask of controlled fury, looked at Mrs. Anderson.
- “Mr. Thompson, what brings you here? This minor project doesn’t require your personal attention.”
- “What Mr. Thompson? I’m warning you! Don’t you dare stop me from beating this homewrecker!” Mrs. Anderson screeched.
- “Just shut up,” Michael said, his voice dangerously low. He turned to Mr. Anderson. “Are you trying to get me killed? Mr. Thompson, let’s sign the contract now.”
Mr. Anderson, looking terrified, quickly agreed.
- “We can sign immediately! There’s no problem, really!”
Michael looked at Mrs. Anderson, his eyes blazing.
- “You let this harpy bully my Thompson Enterprises employee? Our collaboration ends here. Starting today, Thompson Enterprises will impose a business blockade on the Anderson family.”
- “Mr. Thompson, over this nobody employee, surely you’re overreacting!” Mrs. Anderson pleaded, realizing the gravity of the situation. “We’ll compensate her if needed! Let’s not ruin our partnership over this!”
- “Enjoy your bankruptcy,” Michael said, his voice devoid of emotion.
Mrs. Anderson scoffed.
- “That’s ridiculous! The Anderson family empire won’t collapse at your whim!”
- “Wishful thinking?” Michael said, a chilling smile on his face. He turned to Chloe, his voice softening. “I’m fine. Just focus on the deal. You matter more than any deal. Chloe Miller, you are a Thompson Enterprises employee. Never compromise your dignity. I’ve got your back.”
Suddenly, Mr. Anderson’s phone rang.
- “Hello? What?! Our funding chain has been broken? That’s impossible!” He looked at Michael, his face pale. “Mr. Thompson, so you’re Mr. Thompson? Mr. Thompson, I was blind earlier. Please forgive me!” He then turned to his wife, furious. “Mr. Thompson! Why did you have to provoke them? This is all your fault! You were the one who cheated!”
Mrs. Anderson, completely distraught, tried to apologize, but Michael simply waved her off. He then turned to Chloe, who was still recovering from the shock.
- “Don’t move. I’m sorry, I messed up. Does this mean I won’t get a full-time status?” Chloe asked, her voice small.
- “Who said that?” Michael asked, a slight smile on his face. “You’ve passed the trial. You’re keeping me.”
- “Is it because you want to take responsibility?” Chloe teased, feeling a bit bolder.
- “You moron. You’re overthinking it,” Michael replied, playfully nudging her. “You passed my test. But that doesn’t mean you’ll be joining the design department just yet. To transfer there, you must pass their challenge.”
Chloe’s face fell.
- “Jessica already dislikes me. Will she ever let me pass?”
- “Like this,” Michael said, a plan forming in his mind. “I’ll arrange a test for tomorrow. If you pass it, I’ll approve your transfer. Do you dare to accept? Well?”
The next morning, an all-company email was sent out.
- “Attention, everyone! Our R&D team has upgraded our flagship product, Kafuse Serum. It has been optimized and upgraded. We are now in need of new packaging designs. The company hereby announces an internal design competition open to all departments.”
- “Is this limited to just the design department?” a voice asked during the company-wide announcement.
- “This packaging design contest is open to the entire company,” Alex Davis announced. “The deadline is three days. The winner will be granted one request.”
- “Wow, that’s generous!” a colleague exclaimed. “Can the winner join the design department?”
- “If you can win, then certainly,” Michael’s voice boomed.