The CEO's Secret Obsession Chapter 147: The Unexpected Gift

[Hart Financial]

Patricia marched straight into the glass-and-steel lobby like she owned the place.

Her heels clicked with purpose, her jaw was set and her phone was clenched in her hand like a weapon.

The receptionist looked up with a polite smile that wavered almost imdiately.

"Good morning. May I help you?"

"Yes," Patricia said brightly, too brightly. "I am here to see Lucas Hart."

The receptionist blinked. "Do you have an appointnt?"

Patricia smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes.

"No but you might want to tell him that Patricia Wu is downstairs anyway."

"I am sorry, I can’t just—"

Patricia leaned in slightly, lowering her voice—not loud, not dramatic but controlled.

"Then tell him this," she said evenly. "Tell him his mother sent a ’wellness starter kit’ and a six-month Pilates subscription to my ho address."

She paused, letting that sink in.

"And tell him I would really like to understand how a woman I have t only once for five minutes managed to find my private address."

The receptionist stiffened. "I—"

"If he doesn’t co down," Patricia continued calmly, straightening, "I will start asking that question to people who handle privacy compliance. I hear finance companies are very sensitive about that."

There was silence for a couple of seconds before the receptionist’s fingers flew to the phone. "One mont, please."

Patricia stepped back, folding her arms, jaw tight but posture composed.

"Thank you," she said flatly. "I will wait."

Five painfully long minutes later, a sharply dressed woman approached her.

"Ms. Wu?" Lucas’ assistant asked carefully.

"That depends," Patricia said. "Are you here to escort upstairs before I commit a felony?"

The assistant didn’t even blink. "Mr. Hart will see you now."

.....

[Lucas’ Office]

Lucas looked up the mont the door opened.

One look at Patricia’s face and he knew.

He closed his laptop slowly. "Okay. Before you say anything—"

She threw the gift box onto his desk.

It slid then stopped.

"Explain," Patricia said flatly.

Lucas glanced down. It was a set of luxury skincare, a six-month Pilates subscription and a cream-colored card.

He swallowed. "She sent this?"

Patricia laughed and it wasn’t the happy kind.

"She sent it with a note," Patricia said, pulled out the cream-coloured card and started reading aloud. "A healthy routine builds discipline. Looking forward to seeing you glow."

She looked up. "Glow, Lucas. Not et you, not nice to see you again. Glow."

Lucas rubbed his face. "I swear to God, I didn’t think she would go so far—"

"She got my address," Patricia cut in. "Explain that first. Is your mother a socialite or a stalker?"

He winced. "Okay, that part—bad, very bad. I didn’t give it to her. She probably had soone look it up."

"Of course she did," Patricia snapped. "She hired a private investigator to stalk her son’s fake girlfriend."

Lucas stood up, hands raised. "I ssed up. I know I did. I didn’t think she would—"

"You didn’t think," Patricia said sharply. "That’s the problem."

She paced once, then turned back to him, eyes flashing.

"I agreed to help you escape so awkward dinner conversations. I did not agree to be dragged into so weird psychological war between you and your mother."

Lucas’ voice softened. "Patricia—"

"I don’t want gifts," she continued. "I don’t want subscriptions. And I definitely don’t want a complete stranger implying my body needs fixing."

She jabbed a finger toward the box. "I like my body, I work hard for it and even if I didn’t, it’s none of her damn business."

Silence settled between them

Lucas exhaled slowly, guilt written all over his face.

"You are right," he said quietly. "All of it. I shouldn’t have pulled you into this. I was selfish."

She folded her arms. "So?"

"So," he said, eting her eyes, "I will talk to her properly and I will shut it down."

"And if she doesn’t listen?" Patricia asked.

Lucas’ jaw tightened. "Then I will talk to her again."

That made her pause.

He hesitated, then added honestly, "I didn’t realize how far she would go when she feels threatened."

Patricia scoffed. "Welco to my morning."

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I don’t hate you, Lucas and I don’t mind helping you but I won’t be a pawn."

"I don’t want you to be," he said quickly. "I just needed soone real."

She looked at him for a long mont.

Then she picked up the Pilates brochure and waved it.

"For the record," she said dryly, "if I ever start Pilates, it will be because I want to and not because your mother thinks I need discipline."

A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. "Duly noted."

She turned toward the door, then paused.

"And Lucas?"

"Yes?"

"Next ti you introduce anyone as your girlfriend," she said coolly, "Make sure your mother doesn’t treat her this way. I can understand you have issues with your mother or both our parents but a woman who is with you shouldn’t have to surfer because of that."

Then she walked out head high, spine straight and very much unbroken.

Lucas sank back into his chair and sighed as he picked up his phone,

"I really need to talk to her," he muttered.

.....

[Hart Residence]

Helen Hart stood before the full-length mirror with her posture immaculate as her stylist adjusted the fall of her jacket.

"Not this one," Helen said mildly. "It softens ."

The stylist froze, then nodded. "Of course, Mrs. Hart."

Helen watched her own reflection with practiced detachnt—every line of her face deliberate, every expression carefully curated. She selected another jacket herself, darker, sharper.

She smiled, satisfied, "Better."

"Did the packages arrive?" she asked, as if discussing groceries.

"Yes, ma’am. The skincare set and the Pilates mbership were delivered this morning."

Helen humd, satisfied. "Good. Practical gifts and thoughtfulness."

The stylist hesitated. "May I ask—was the Pilates subscription necessary?"

Helen turned slowly, her smile polite and empty. "Of course it was."

She stepped closer to the mirror, adjusting her cufflinks. "Young won today mistake confidence for refinent. It’s a common error."

The stylist nodded quickly.

Helen picked up her phone, scrolling through a photo her assistant had sent earlier—Patricia Wu, laughing at a café, unaware she was being observed.

"Pretty," Helen admitted calmly. "But in a very loud way."

She set the phone down.

"But pretty isn’t what lasts in families like ours."

She walked toward the window, gazing out at the manicured gardens below. "Lucas has always had a weakness for people who make him feel unguarded."

She paused. "But that hat phase always ends."

The stylist swallowed. "But what if it’s serious this ti?"

Helen’s reflection in the glass smiled.

"Lucas doesn’t decide seriousness," she said gently. "I do."

She reached for her handbag. "And if the girl is intelligent, she will understand the ssage I sent today."

"And if she doesn’t?" the stylist asked before she could stop herself.

Helen slipped on her sunglasses.

"Then she will learn," she said simply. "Everyone does."

She walked out without another word, heels clicking softly against marble.

Behind her, the room remained perfect, ordered and controlled.

And sowhere across the city, Patricia Wu had just beco a problem Helen Hart intended to solve.

.....