Just a few seconds of weighing the options.
Aiden Fordham raised his hand and knocked on the door again, but there was still no response.
He suddenly turned around, took long strides, and walked toward the elevator without looking back.
The hem of his trench coat drew a cold and hard arc.
"To The Imperial Capital."
The commanding voice, cold and hard, echoed in the empty corridor.
Stella heard the footsteps outside the door finally fade away.
The pressure that almost crushed her also dispersed accordingly.
Her heart, which was lodged in her throat, finally trembled and returned to its original position.
Her entire being was exhausted.
...
The Imperial Capital.
Dawn’s first light.
Aiden Fordham had just gotten off the plane, the chill around him yet to dissipate, and headed straight for the Whitman Residence.
The car smoothly drove into the Whitman Residence, but the familiar building now exuded a sense of alienation warning outsiders to keep away.
The butler led him through the courtyard, around the shadow wall.
In the living room, Mrs. Whitman sat upright in a simple cheongsam, her brow and eyes filled with an undissolvable coldness.
The woman who was always gentle and dignified in his mory stood up the mont she saw Aiden Fordham.
She stepped forward to face him.
"Slap—"
The crisp sound of a slap resonated throughout the empty hall.
Aiden Fordham’s face was slapped to the side, burning with pain.
Mrs. Whitman’s wrist was trembling, her eyes glowing red, but her voice was as cold as ice, "Aiden Fordham, you certainly have so nerve."
"Who gave you the audacity to treat my daughter this way?"
Aiden Fordham’s Adam’s apple moved, his voice hoarse, "Mrs. Whitman, Stella..."
"Shut up!"
Mrs. Whitman interrupted him sharply, "You have no right to call her na."
She pointed towards the door, each word sharp as ice shards.
"Our Whitman Family pushed aside the Monroe Family marriage for you, should’ve known you were such a scoundrel, I should’ve chosen the Monroe Family back then."
"As long as Sierra doesn’t forgive you, don’t ever think of entering my Whitman Family’s door again."
"Now, get out."
With that, bodyguards stepped forward and unceremoniously grabbed Aiden Fordham’s arms.
Aiden Fordham was half pushed, half shoved out.
The heavy carved wooden door shut with a "bang" behind him, cutting off everything.
Standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of the hotel’s top suite, Aiden Fordham knitted his brows.
Outside the window was the bustling street scene of The Imperial Capital, but he couldn’t focus on anything.
In his mind, in his heart, all was her face.
The way she smiled, the way she played, the way she nestled softly in his arms.
This city is full of mories of him and her.
The rim of his eyes turned terribly red.
These days, longing felt like vines, maddeningly wrapping around his heart, tightening ever more, almost suffocating him.
Without her, he realized his life was utterly pale, like a living corpse.
He was now certain Stella was in the Whitman Residence, hidden by the Whitmans.
Alright.
He had to co up with a plan to sneak in.
Must see her.
He couldn’t have imagined that Hugh Whitman would play such a deceitful trick on him.
Just then, his phone vibrated.
It was a call from Keegan Lindsey.
"President Fordham, there’s movent on the Monroe Family’s side."
"They’ve been trying to make contact with ’Bluebird’, hoping to invite the lady to jointly research the antidote for the virus this ti."
Keegan Lindsey’s voice paused, "The Monroe Family has over two hundred private hospitals abroad, and with the virus outbreak, all their hospitals are overwheld. It’s said there are many complaints, urgently needing a solution to stabilize the situation."
Aiden Fordham’s eyes darkened.
Ethan Monroe.
Wishful thinking, not like God N is soone he can invite at will.
He’s been eyeing Stella, his thieving heart never rests.
Aiden Fordham chuckled coldly, the curve icy, "Then let’s play along with him."
...
At the sa ti in The Imperial Capital.
At "Cí" club, in the most exclusive suite, glasses clinked amidst the conversation.
Ethan Monroe held a glass of wine, mingling among a group of dical big shots, his face adorned with a graceful smile.
His figure was upright, and the tailored suit outlined broad shoulders and a slim waist, his outstanding temperant making him stand out among a group of middle-aged n.
"If Young Master Monroe can solve the virus issue this ti, he’ll be at the pinnacle of the dical world, and even the Fordham Group will have to give way."
"Exactly, exactly, we’re all counting on God N."
"Young Master Monroe, you and God N were childhood friends, this big Buddha can’t be snatched by anyone."
Ethan Monroe just kept smiling, occasionally sipping his wine, handling it all with ease.
Suddenly, the phone in his pocket vibrated lightly.
He excused himself to the restroom, leaving the noisy suite.
At the end of the hallway, he leaned against the wall and opened the screen.
It was an email alert.
The sender was "Bluebird."
His heart skipped a beat.
The email content was brief: [God N is currently not at the headquarters, but left a private contact. Whether she accepts your friend request depends on her decision.]
A string of phone numbers was attached to the bottom of the email.
Ethan Monroe’s fingers trembled slightly, he took a deep breath, copied those numbers, and switched to the ssaging interface.
Paste, search.
A user popped up.
The avatar was an adorable fluffy little rabbit, very cute.
The nickna was simple, just a single letter: N.
He almost imdiately clicked "Add to Contacts."
Sent the request, but there was no response for a long ti.
Ethan Monroe stared at the gray rabbit avatar, thinking perhaps it was too late and she was asleep.
In the early hours, the social event ended.
The driver was smoothly driving the car on the way ho.
Ethan Monroe leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes to rest, but his mind was in turmoil.
The phone screen suddenly lit up.
[N has accepted your friend verification request, ready to chat now.]
He instantly woke up, his heart pounding, unable to contain his excitent.
He opened the chat window, his fingers hovering over the keyboard for a long ti, then typed a line.
[Sierra? Is it you?]
[How have you been lately?]
The other person’s chat interface kept showing "Typing...", but after two minutes, only one sentence was sent over.
[Currently recuperating sowhere, not doing well.]
His heart suddenly tightened.
[Where are you? I’ll co to see you.]
This ti, it took a few more minutes.
So long that he thought she wouldn’t reply again.
The ssage popped up finally, and she deliberately steered off-topic.
[Sorry, your bracelet... was broken by Aiden Fordham.]
[In the world... could there still be the sa kind?]
It really was her!
It really was Sierra!
Ethan Monroe’s heart was racing uncontrollably, imnse joy engulfed him.
He quickly typed a response.
[It’s okay, the bracelet is broken and that’s that.]
[If you like, I’ll find another for you. It may not be identical, but it’ll guarantee to be prettier than the last one.]
This ti, she replied quickly.
[A bit tired, I’ll sleep first, good night.]
[Good night.]
Ethan Monroe’s gaze, however, lingered on the chat interface for a long ti, unwilling to exit.
He clicked into her Monts.
Inside, it was completely empty, only a cold horizontal line that read, "Friends only show updates from the last three days."
But just these few words were enough to keep him sleepless all night.
...
The next day.
Aiden Fordham received news that Mrs. Whitman was dining with so friends at the club, talking and laughing, very at ease.
Just this one action, and Aiden Fordham understood everything.
He had been played by that bastard Hugh Whitman.
If Stella was really at the Whitman Residence, Mrs. Whitman would stick to her heart and soul twenty-four hours a day.
He knew, at this mont, she was on Lumina Isle.
But he couldn’t go there; it was heavily guarded, and he couldn’t confront the authorities directly.
He could only dispatch more people to keep a tight watch and pay attention to any slight movent on the island.
Half a month passed by.
Hugh Whitman still ca and went freely.
At this mont, he was in his large villa, preparing afternoon tea for Vivi Sterling.
Vivi Sterling was nestled on the sofa, ordering food.
"I want freshly squeezed strawberry juice... and freshly baked egg tarts."
Hugh Whitman readily agreed, "Sure."
He rolled up his shirt sleeves, revealing his strong forearms, and busied himself in the open kitchen.
Soon, the entire villa was filled with the rich aroma of milk.
Vivi Sterling watched his skillful actions, his focused profile, and silently gave him an extra point in her heart.
This man surprisingly had a bit of cute charm in contrast.
Soon, Hugh Whitman placed a cup of bright red strawberry juice and a plate of steaming hot egg tarts in front of her.
The golden egg tart crust was slightly scorched, exuding an enticing fragrance.
Vivi Sterling exclaid, "How did you do this? It’s so professional."
She leaned forward and joked, "Be honest, did the Whitman family run a bakery a hundred years ago?"
Hugh Whitman was amused by her, and he replied seriously.
"Not just a bakery. They also ran a butcher shop, stood as watchn, and escorted convoys."
His few casual words successfully made Vivi Sterling chuckle.
Vivi Sterling reached out to grab an egg tart.
He stopped her, "Careful, it’s hot."
Then he picked one up himself, gently blew on it, and then brought it to her mouth, feeding her tenderly.
Vivi Sterling instinctively opened her mouth, enjoying his thoughtfulness.
Suddenly, her eyes widened in shock, and she shouted out loud.
"Ah!"
This startled Hugh Whitman so much that he dropped the egg tart in his hand.
"What’s wrong?"
"Are you uncomfortable? We’ll go to the hospital right away!"
He was in a panic, bending over and trying to pick her up in his arms.
Vivi Sterling, however, grabbed his large hand and pressed it against her belly, which was half the size of a ball.
With surprise and joy, she exclaid, feeling the first movents of the baby inside her.
"It’s moving!"
"They’re moving inside!"
Hugh Whitman froze, then breathed a sigh of relief, feeling as if his soul had almost left his body.
His large hand gently lifted her loose maternity clothes, pressing his warm palm against her round belly.
Skin to skin.
Suddenly, he felt a slight movent under his palm.
It was an indescribable magical feeling; through the belly, he could feel new life.
His eyes were filled with tenderness, almost overflowing with emotion.
Hugh Whitman lowered his head and gave her a firm kiss on the lips.
"Vivi, thank you."
Vivi Sterling was montarily stunned, then smiled, "Why thank , I haven’t even given birth to the child yet."
She paused for a mont.
"My uncle ntioned an old Chinese doctor with excellent dical skills, why don’t you go and see him?"
Hugh Whitman was taken aback.
He looked at her and suddenly asked back, "Do you want it to get better?"
Vivi Sterling laughed carelessly, "What’s it got to do with ."
He smiled, but there was seriousness in his eyes.
"Of course, it matters. If you say you want it, then I’ll go for treatnt."
"In the future, you are to marry into the Whitman family as the first lady, that is your happiness."
Vivi Sterling’s smile suddenly disappeared.
She looked at him and said seriously, word by word.
"Hugh Whitman, I don’t like this."
"I won’t give promises to anyone, and I don’t need promises from anyone."
"Thank you for the strawberry juice." With that, Vivi Sterling supported herself on the sofa and got up to leave.
Hugh Whitman panicked completely, grabbing her wrist.
"Vivi, don’t go."
She turned back, her gaze calm and unwavering, as she told him in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Hugh Whitman, I won’t marry into the Whitman family."
She never considered it, nor did she ever want to.
She did not long for marriage with anyone, except... Zane Zimrman.
After speaking, she shook off his hand and walked straight out.
The sound of the door closing with a "bang" echoed.
Hugh Whitman listened to it, his heart felt clogged and chest tight with anxiety.
...
On the other side, these days, Ethan Monroe had been chatting enthusiastically with "God N."
After contemplating for a long ti, he finally revealed his ulterior motive.
[Sierra, our Monroe Group’s pharmaceutical company focuses on cardiovascular research.]
[Recently, we have been developing a new drug but are stuck at the final hurdle with no progress in research.]
He spoke earnestly, taking a very low stance.
[I would like to... offer a substantial reward to hire you as a technical advisor for the pharmaceutical company, would you be willing?]
The reply from the other side was quick.
N: [No ti to be a technical advisor for now.]
N: [However, I have an equation on hand that you can try and turn into a new formulation, it should be effective.]
Ethan Monroe stared at the line, his heart pounding.
She... is she willing to give him the equation directly?
This was God N!
A revered figure in the dical field! Her equations are priceless!
He could hardly believe it and confird: [You an to give it as a gift without charge?]
N: [Yes.]
The reply was concise as always.
N: [I hope the Monroe Group can use it to save more people.]
N: [But one thing, the final product must be reasonably priced, and not beco a tool for comrcial profit.]
[Definitely! Absolutely!]
Ethan Monroe promised with utmost sincerity, his fingers trembling with excitent.
Soon, an encrypted file was sent over.
It was God N’s secret equation.
He imdiately downloaded the file, rushed out of the office, and headed straight to the laboratory.
"Quick! Get the final product made imdiately! Right now!"
...
Inside the President’s office of the Fordham Group.
Aiden Fordham looked at the enthusiastic chat between God N and Ethan Monroe, in a great mood.
All the chess pieces had fallen into the positions he wanted.
Suddenly.
His private phone vibrated, the screen lit up, and a short ssage popped up.
Aiden Fordham’s eyes imdiately shone, all the laziness and nonchalance swept away, leaving only sharpness and urgency.
"Prepare to depart for Lumina Isle."
Keegan Lindsey, who was reporting on work, was amazed, "President Fordham? Aren’t we... unable to go on the island?"
Aiden Fordham stood up, his voice as firm as a rock.
"The reagent has been successfully developed."
"That old fox won’t dare keep my people any longer."
Stella, it’s ti to co ho...
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