Sweet Revenge: Kissing the CEO's Uncle - Chapter 9
Wilder’s efficiency was indeed impressive. Margot hadn’t even reached home when she received an invitation from Shaw Group HR to join the company.
The job was scheduled for weekends, specifically to assist Mr. Shaw’s secretary’s secretary.
Once I started, things got busy. I was constantly juggling between school and work, leaving me little time to pay attention to Wilder and Margot.
A month later, I was working overtime in the office, organizing meeting materials, when I heard footsteps. I assumed someone from the secretary’s office was coming to rush me.
“Sorry, I’ll be done soon.”
I looked up after speaking and was stunned.
It was the first time I saw someone so striking. He must have been at least 1.88 meters tall, wearing a custom dark suit that perfectly showcased his slender figure-low-key yet luxurious. The beautiful fabric matched the beautiful person, and those narrow eyes were quietly fixed on me.
After a moment, he coughed a few times, his face looking somewhat pale, and the comments were flooding in.
I realized he was Wilder’s “father,” Damien Shaw.
It was unbelievable; he was originally forty but looked just over thirty, and he already had such a grown child.
Utterly shocking.
I stood up, “Mr. Shaw, good evening.”
He nodded slightly, his deep, magnetic voice resonating, “Still working?”
I glanced at the materials in my hand, “Almost done. Is there something you need?”
Only then did I notice that the entire office hall was empty except for me, and the sky outside had completely darkened. I looked at the time; it was already 10 PM.
I had been too busy to check the time.
“No, I’m just here to pick up something. Head home early.”
“Alright.”
After a brief exchange, Damien’s cough sounded again as he turned and walked towards the president’s office.
I poured a cup of warm water at the bar and brought it to him, noticing the office door was half open. Damien took out a box of medicine from the drawer and swallowed it.
I knocked on the door and entered, “Mr. Shaw, here’s some warm water.”
Damien looked at me, took the cup, and his fingertips inadvertently touched mine-cold and cool.
I frowned.
[Oh my, the male lead’s father, I’m amazed every time I see him, makes me want to commit a crime!]
[Stop it, anyway, he’s going to die soon, only then can the male lead era begin.]
[Isn’t he supposed to be frail since childhood, how did he have such a big child like Wilder!]
[Didn’t you read carefully, Damien is a twin, Wilder is his brother’s son who married young.]
[Such a handsome man has two?? What did I miss?]
[Unfortunately, he also died young, Damien later took over and raised Wilder.]
[Ah, this way, I feel even more reluctant for him to die!!]
Watching the comments refresh repeatedly, saying Damien was about to die.
A strange emotion arose.
I didn’t understand why the so-called supporting characters’ fate always had to make way for the protagonist.
Why couldn’t they grow and live independently?
It seemed that without the protagonist, we supporting characters had no meaning other than being tools.
“Mr. Shaw, take care of your health.”
I advised, and Damien paused, responding with a gentle “hmm.”
After a month of employment, this was my first time meeting Damien. His relentless drive was well-known since he took over Shaw Group.
Constant expansion, almost working day and night, born premature, inherently weak, and now exhausting himself.
Damien finished the water, thanked me, and walked out.
I followed him, one after the other, to the elevator.
Until the basement, Damien got into the car and noticed I was still following. He rolled down the window and asked, “Are you scared?”
“Mr. Shaw, there’s no bus at night. Could you give me a ride to the intersection to catch a cab?”
The Shaw Group office building was enormous, and walking from our building to the taxi spot took fifteen minutes.
Damien didn’t hesitate, “Get in.”
I got in, buckled up, and Damien asked for my home location.
He directly drove me home.
The car moved slowly on the road, and he asked if I was in a hurry.
I shook my head.
From the comments, I learned he was out for some fresh air, just once a month.
It was his self-granted vacation.
The rest of the time was dedicated to Shaw Group, laying the foundation for Wilder to take over.
I boldly spoke, “Mr. Shaw, are you hungry? Let me treat you to spicy hot pot.”
Damien looked puzzled, repeating, “Spicy hot pot?”
He seemed surprised that I would invite him for spicy hot pot.
“Yes, it’s delicious. Wait in the car, I’ll pack it up and bring it to my place.”
Damien chuckled lightly, “You’re inviting me for spicy hot pot?”
I nodded, “Yes, leaders are people too; they need to eat.”
Perhaps knowing Damien wouldn’t live much longer, the sense of distance from a leader disappeared.
Or maybe he had lived a calm life for too long, Damien didn’t refuse.
Worried he might be recognized eating by the roadside, I packed everything.
He parked at the intersection, and I ordered a lot to-go, then returned to my place.
In the small yard, I set up a table with two newly bought stools.
Damien looked at the spicy hot pot and tried a bite.
His eyes showed admiration, his tone gentle.
“Not bad.”
I placed what he liked in front of him, “It’s alright, glad you don’t mind my humble home.”
Damien looked around, “I grew up at my grandmother’s house as a child, and there was a small yard like this. Your home feels familiar.”
During the spicy hot pot meal, Damien’s phone kept ringing, from family doctors to company matters, he barely ate a few bites.
His handsome profile focused on handling matters, methodical.
No impatience, quiet and focused.
Perhaps knowing he only had a year left to live, I spoke impulsively.
“Mr. Shaw, take a night off, it won’t make a difference.”
Damien’s fingers paused from replying, released, and switched to voice messages, briefly stating his handling instructions, then turned off the phone.
Just like that, he spent the night at my place watching the stars. I didn’t know what he was thinking, he didn’t seem happy, silent and quiet.
He only fell asleep near dawn.
