Chapter 8

To escape Kaele’s entanglement, I volunteered for a business trip, heading out of town for a week.

The project was nearly finalized, but during dinner, a senior executive from the other company kept giving me uncomfortable looks.

“Elowen, how old are you this year?”

The middle-aged man with a bald head and beer belly kept asking.

Suppressing my annoyance, I replied, “27.”

“Still single, huh? Too busy with your career?” He chuckled as he edged closer, trying to read my palm, which I brushed off.

I’ve encountered many like him before, thinking young women would tolerate harassment for the sake of a project. Though annoyed, the project was significant, and I had no choice but to endure.

My phone rang; it was Silas calling.

“Are you at dinner?” He heard the noisy male voices in the background. “Why is it so loud? I’ve messaged your boss. If you’re done eating, you can leave.”

I didn’t want to stay any longer, but unexpectedly, the man had terrible drinking habits. After a few bottles, he started acting up, insisting on talking to me.

“It’s good for a young lady to have ambition, but sometimes hard work alone isn’t enough. There are many shortcuts in this world. My company has a few projects; why don’t we discuss them in my room later…”

He handed me a room card, the stench of alcohol forcing me to hold my breath as I pushed the card back.

“Mr. Zhang, I’m just a participant in the project. You can discuss it with our boss.”

Unexpectedly, he flew into a rage, yanking me up violently.

“A department manager, what’s so great about you?!”

“A woman becoming a manager, isn’t it just by sleeping around? You damn whore, trying to act virtuous? Think my position isn’t high enough, you damn bitch, dare to look down on me…”

The drunken man was terrifyingly strong, and it took several male colleagues to pull him away. My heart pounded, my wrist hurt from his grip, and I was almost petrified, leaning against the wall.

It wasn’t until the vice president gestured that I snapped out of it and ran out the door. Looking down, the call was still connected.

Picking up, Silas didn’t comfort me; he simply said one sentence.

“Wait for me.”

…

The place wasn’t far, but driving took over three hours.

Silas was usually very busy, with the branch office just getting on track, relying heavily on him. I thought he might comfort me via video call or send someone in his stead.

Back at the hotel, I tried to sleep but couldn’t.

In the dark, I lay with eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

It wasn’t a big deal; I was used to such things.

My family couldn’t support me. In college, I took out student loans, and my living expenses came from working part-time, rising early and staying up late.

Back then, when male bosses harassed me, I could only endure.

Things are much better now; at least I can resist.

Time ticked by, and Silas didn’t send any more messages.

I turned over, smiling bitterly. Even now, I held onto foolish expectations. Perhaps I carried the genes of my mother, whom I despised, inheriting her weakness.

Since birth, I rarely saw my father.

Human flaws seemed to manifest in him; he gambled excessively, was never home, constantly sought women, and returned occasionally only to demand money.

If my mother refused, he’d beat us.

From a young age, I urged my mother to divorce, as did everyone around us.

But she always sobbed, insisting on giving me a complete family, refusing to leave.

Initially, I didn’t understand. Despite how my father treated us, she believed a complete family was better for me.

Later, I realized she didn’t want to leave, using me as an excuse.

Whenever she discovered my father with another woman, she’d throw fits, threatening to end it all with a knife and rope.

But when my father truly wanted to leave, she’d cower, crying and clinging to his leg, begging him to stay.

This woman, through endless torment, had become a Stockholm syndrome patient, hating my father yet unable to leave him.

I grew up amidst this endless tug-of-war.

From a young age, I knew men were unreliable, and I had to fight for what I wanted.

I wouldn’t reconcile with Kaele, knowing he wouldn’t change, no matter how sweet his words now.

I wouldn’t repeat my mother’s tragedy.

As for Silas, do I truly like him?

Even I don’t know. Perhaps I just like his good conditions, his seemingly upright character, better than Kaele.

I disguised myself to approach him, attract him, knowing such feelings were false.

I rarely felt lost.

Is this truly what I want?

The next moment, the doorbell rang.

I wrapped myself in a blanket, got out of bed, and opened the door. Silas stood there, in a freshly changed suit, perfectly tailored, showing no signs of fatigue from the long drive.

“I’ve clarified with that company to cancel the cooperation. The person who insulted you has been fired. I guarantee he won’t find work in this circle again, and you won’t see him anymore.”

His expression remained calm, neither comforting me nor offering sweet words.

But just by standing there, he seemed to represent reliability.

Kaele glanced at his watch, “Three hours until dawn. Tomorrow’s activities are canceled; you can sleep in.”

After a pause, he added, “I’m staying next door. If you need anything, you can come to me anytime.”

With that, he turned to leave, as if he had traveled all this way just to say those few words.

Yet my heart strangely settled.

As he turned, I grabbed him, pulling him by the collar and stood on tiptoe.

In the faint scent of mint, a cool kiss intertwined.

I laughed amidst Silas’s stunned expression:

“Silas, let’s be together.”