Chapter 8

Beatrice sighed and rubbed her temples. "I'm exhausted. I'll be staying here for the next month. Don't start any drama with me." Curtis gave a low grunt of acknowledgment. Then, he had Ken bring in a few dutiful maids that same night. When he returned to the master bedroom, James was just heading out. James, being a doctor with a mild temperament, said, "I'm heading off. She just needs some time to recover. Oh, and take her for a full body check-up at the hospital sometime soon." "Alright." James wanted to say more, but upon sensing Curtis' foul mood, he left without another word. After that, Curtis lingered at the bedroom door, his hand resting on the knob. After a few seconds of hesitation, he slowly pushed the door open. The lights inside were dim. On the bed, Marceline lay with her eyes closed, looking perfectly docile. Curtis closed the door but didn't go straight to the bed. Instead, he stood a few feet away and simply looked at her. Marceline's cheeks were flushed from the fever, and her lashes were trembling slightly, as if she were trapped in a nightmare. Curtis stood there for about half an hour before finally switching off the lights. However, he didn't get into the bed and simply opted to lie on the couch by the window. Meanwhile, Marceline felt like she was burning alive in a sea of fire. "I'm parched. Curtis… Water…" she drowsily murmured. At the next moment, something cool touched her lips, and she instinctively drank it down. A sense of relief washed over her, and the burning sensation subsided. … The next morning, Marceline opened her eyes, only to see the familiar ceiling. Instinctively, she turned her head to look at the space beside her. There was no indentation on the bed. Over the past three years, she'd gotten used to checking small details like this. On the nightstand was an empty glass. Marceline quickly sat up and checked the time—it was nearly 6:30 am. She still had to pick Shawn up. She scrambled out of bed, washed up, and went downstairs. However, she was met with Beatrice, who was there reading the newspaper. "Mrs. Wolfe Senior, why are you…" Beatrice had never liked spending the night away from home. Why hadn't she gone back? When Beatrice saw Marceline, she clutched her chest in frustration. "Do you have any idea how much you freaked me out last night? You fainted just like that! "Marcy, how can you be so careless with your health? You must eat more for breakfast." "Mrs. Wolfe Senior, I have to get to work. I'm going to be late." "What company do you work for? I'll have Curt call your boss and get you the day off." But Marceline simply lowered her head and walked to the front door. "There's no need for that. My boss is kind to me." "Wait, Marcy—you haven't even had breakfast." Then, she turned and glared at Curtis. "What are you standing around for? Go drive her to work!" Marceline had already put on her shoes. Even though her expression was gentle, she didn't spare Curtis a glance. "Mrs. Wolfe Senior, it's really fine. I'm driving my boss' car, and I have to go pick him up." Beatrice grew even more anxious. After all, Marceline wasn't well—if she skipped breakfast and passed out again, what then? Unable to stay calm, she gave Curtis a kick. "Go find out where she works! She's never worked a day in her life—what if someone takes advantage of her? "Marcy used to smile all the time. She's been so gloomy in the past few years. I'm afraid she'll be picked on out there." So, other people had also noticed that she didn't smile as much anymore. But Curtis remained seated, feeling inexplicably annoyed. "Maybe you should get a DNA test someday. She might actually turn out to be your granddaughter." Beatrice placed a hand on her chest to calm her anger. Then, she sat down and said, "With that mouth of yours, it's no wonder Marcy doesn't smile anymore." Curtis then got up without even bothering with breakfast. "Right—she's in that state because of me. I'm the one who starved her. Why don't you go check that room full of luxury goods? "Every month, she gets the latest clothes, bags, and jewelry worth millions. I've never deprived her of anything. All she needed to do was stay at home, and yet she couldn't even manage two maids. That just shows how incompetent she is." While adjusting his cuffs, Curtis glanced at the breakfast spread. "Enjoy your meal, Grandma. I'm heading to the office." Beatrice's headache was agonizing. It seemed that she'd have to sit down and talk to Marceline properly that night to understand what she really wanted. After getting into the car, Curtis slumped into his seat. Faint dark circles were visible under his eyes. As Ken started the car, he guessed that Curtis hadn't slept the previous night. Then, Curtis closed his eyes and suddenly said, "Get someone to redo the fishpond at Pinebrook Villa. She doesn't like the current one." "Yes, Mr. Wolfe." "Whatever she wants over there, make it happen. If I don't answer my phone, just go ahead with it." There were times when Curtis had to go on site visits to remote areas, where his phone might briefly lose signal. "I understand, Mr. Wolfe. The contractors will be there shortly." After giving a nod, Curtis turned to look out the window, deep in thought. … By the time Marceline arrived at Shawn's house, she was 20 minutes late. Dressed in a suit and tie, Shawn rhetorically asked, "Do you not know how to call your boss if you're going to be late? What if I had an important overseas meeting this morning? Could you afford the loss?" "I'm sorry, Mr. Vance," Marceline replied. Shawn was irritated, but when he recalled the contract that had been signed the previous night, he opened the car door and got in without a fuss. "Don't let it happen again. There are plenty of people who would want your job." Just as Marceline was going to pull away, a woman emerged from the house. She was about Shawn's age. When she saw Marceline, her face twisted. "Shawn, who is this?" "My new assistant." The woman scoffed in anger. "You hired someone this young and good-looking. Are you not even trying to hide it anymore?" With messy hair, she stormed over to the driver's side and reached through the open window to grab Marceline by the hair. "You bitch! Get out of the car!" Marceline dodged her hand and asked Shawn in a low voice, "Mr. Vance, should I start driving?" Shawn's face darkened in irritation. "Drive." With that, Marceline quickly reversed the car and turned out of the driveway. Meanwhile, the woman stayed where she was, screaming and stomping her feet while clutching her hair. In the rearview mirror, Marceline could see her crouching on the ground in tears, but she said nothing. … At the office, Marceline's job was mainly filing documents, so there was nothing else she could learn. The rest of her duties just involved attending business meetings with Shawn. At noon, Shawn handed her a document to deliver to Wolfe Group. Having been a former senior executive at Wolfe Group, he still had a few friends there. The document concerned funding for the current project, which two of his friends had also invested in, so their signatures were required. Marceline didn't refuse. She simply accepted the document and drove over to Wolfe Group. She'd never been to Wolfe Group before. So, she had to go to the front desk and ask where to find the executives she was looking for. The receptionist frowned slightly. "Ma'am, please make an appointment with Mr. Jones first. A special access card is needed to access the top floor, so I need permission to swipe you in." Marceline was about to respond when Jenna walked in through the revolving doors. Upon seeing Marceline, she warmly greeted her, "Marceline? Are you here to see Curtis?" She seemed to have noticed that Marceline didn't have access to the top floor, and a subtle smirk played on her lips. The receptionist turned to Jenna and asked, "Ms. Farrell, do you know her?" "We've met, but we're just acquaintances. I'm here to see Curtis, so I'll head up now." "Of course, Ms. Farrell. Take care." With that, Jenna chuckled, swiped her card, and headed to the elevators.