Lauren quickly followed after her. "Hey, why don’t you let call him for you? Just to check in."
Ella pressed her lips together, speaking coolly, "No need. I’ll give it one more hour before I try again."
She’d give him one last chance. If there was no response, she’d stop caring altogether.
Lauren chuckled at her friend’s contradictory words. Just monts ago, Ella had been adamant about not calling again, and now here she was, setting herself another ti limit. The paradoxes of love.
An hour later, Ella tried Eric’s number once more, but this ti there was no answer at all—not even from the woman.
Her expression turned cold. This was the first ti she and Eric had engaged in a "deep" cold war since they’d known each other. And he’d even let another woman answer his phone?
Fine. She’d had enough. Whatever connection they’d shared felt null and void.
Angry and frustrated, Ella shut off her phone.
"Let it stay off. It’s not like he’d bother calling first anyway!" she huffed. Lauren, seeing her friend’s frustration, thought about sending Eric a ssage herself, but before she could, one of their classmates called her over.
anwhile, across the ocean...
In Country W, evening had set in, and the city lights glead against the darkening sky.
Eric sat on the 28th-floor balcony of the Waldorf Hotel, his legs casually propped on the railing.
His eyes were bloodshot, remnants of a sleepless night spent tossing and turning. It wasn’t until his friend Richard had called that he’d been able to share his frustrations about his fight with Ella. Naturally, Richard had heard about it from Alia.
As a close friend, Richard understood Eric’s feelings, but he hadn’t held back in his advice. "Eric, you shouldn’t have said those hurtful things. You implied she didn’t love you, that she preferred Henry. Hearing that must’ve devastated her. You didn’t trust her enough."
Eric could still hear Richard’s words ringing in his ears. Coming to Country W had been partly to cool his anger and partly for an important business eting.
Yet, as the day passed, he still hadn’t heard a single word from Ella.
Reflecting on his words, he admitted to himself that he had gone too far. Taking a deep breath, he dialed Ella’s number.
"Sorry, the number you have dialed is currently switched off."
Hearing the automated response, he frowned. She had turned off her phone?
A mix of irritation and unease stirred in him. They’d both been at fault—so why was she shutting him out? Was she avoiding him?
Or maybe there was a problem with her phone? Unlikely. He knew her phone was custom-made by one of the top tech firms in Country W, whose CEO happened to be a good friend of his.
Feeling frustrated, he tossed his phone onto the table. At that mont, a gentle knock sounded on the door. A stunning woman entered, her posture graceful.
"Mr. Anderson is waiting downstairs. He reviewed the proposal you submitted yesterday and was quite pleased," she said in halting Country S, her blue eyes shimring with a flirtatious spark. Her features revealed her mixed heritage, with hints of Country S in her face.
She was Eric’s executive assistant in Country W—a woman with a complex background who had chosen, despite her high status, to work directly under him. For reasons he couldn’t quite comprehend, she’d insisted on the position, and he’d eventually accepted her presence, despite his reservations.
"Vivian, is your older brother in Country W these days?" Eric asked, frowning slightly.
"No, he’s constantly bouncing between countries. You know my brother—he’s never been one for a fixed workplace," Vivian replied with a smile. She was a mixed-heritage woman, half Country W and half Country S. Eric had t her through her older brother, a college friend of his.
Eric glanced once more at his phone. Although he’d dismissed the thought that it might be malfunctioning, a nagging suspicion crossed his mind as he looked at Vivian, aware of her strong affection for him.
"Vivian, you don’t need to continue as my personal assistant anymore."
Vivian’s face fell as she stared at him in disbelief, her expression laced with hurt. "Eric, what did I do wrong? Why don’t you need anymore?"
"I’m married. I don’t want my wife to feel uncomfortable the next ti she joins on a trip and sees you around. She might get jealous," Eric said casually, standing up and heading downstairs.
Vivian’s lips pursed, and though she didn’t argue, she was clearly displeased. To her, it felt like Eric was just discarding her once she was no longer useful.
Eric made his way to the restaurant on the 20th floor, where Mr. Anderson was seated, exuding an air of quiet confidence. His facial features were sharply defined, his presence noble and understated, even in a simple shirt, which did nothing to diminish his refined deanor.
Lucas Anderson, the fourth-generation heir of the Anderson family, held Country W nationality despite his roots in Country S. This was true nobility: powerful, wealthy beyond asure, yet so low-key.
When Lucas saw Eric, he rose with a slight smile, extending a polite greeting.
After the pleasantries, the two began to discuss cooperation and quickly established a harmonious relationship. During Eric’s last visit, Lucas had been away, so he’d only t with Lucas’s secretary.
"I didn’t expect Mr. Nelson to be so young and already have such a sharp mind. Impressive!" Lucas complinted, setting down his nu with a graceful nod. Turning to the waiter, he said, "I’ll have the sa Country S dish as last ti, please."
"Of course, Mr. Anderson. Your order will be served shortly," the waiter responded respectfully.
Eric smiled, ordering a few dishes himself. "It seems Mr. Anderson has a taste for Country S cuisine. We have a few top-tier restaurants back ho that serve signature Country S dishes. I’d be happy to treat you if you’re ever in Country S."
Lucas smiled. "That would be wonderful. Although, I mostly leave my Country S business in my nephew’s hands these days."
Eric nodded, then pulled a photograph from a nearby folder and slid it across the table toward Lucas.
Lucas hesitated, his gaze settling on the photo. It depicted a traditional Country S garden, with a pavilion by a pond and white lotuses serenely floating on the water’s surface, their fragrance almost palpable.
In the pavilion stood a woman, dressed simply yet elegantly in a blue gown, holding a brush as she painted. Her beauty was gentle, her expression serene, with a quiet grace that drew the eye. Her delicate features rendered the white lotuses in the background dim by comparison.
"Isabella..." Lucas’s gaze shifted, his expression laced with a hint of sorrow. A bitter smile tugged at his lips as he looked at Eric coldly. "What exactly are you trying to say?"
This woman was a wound buried in his heart, known only to a few.
And Eric, sohow, knew the story.
"This woman is a figure from your past, Mr. Anderson, and my wife’s mother. I take it you haven’t been keeping up with the news from Country S?" Eric’s calm, steady gaze carried a quiet assurance.
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