Chapter 13

In the office, Bruce sat across from me and said straightforwardly, "Isn’t this a bit too much?" His voice was calm, but his overbearing posture felt like an invisible hand tightly gripping my heart. I wondered just how urgent he felt the situation was. He came all the way in person from Roeval Group just to defend Cindy. I took a deep breath and replied flatly, "Please enlighten me, Mr. Harold." Bruce glanced at me and said seriously, "It's just a small mistake. A good team should allow its members to make minor mistakes, especially when she hasn't even graduated yet." A small mistake, he said. I forced a smile, realizing that the effort we put in over a month was considered a minor mistake in his eyes. I suddenly recalled the time I accidentally shrunk his sweater while washing it for him a long time ago. He ignored me for a whole week because of that. Seeing that I remained silent, Bruce continued, "I'll arrange for her to attend a workshop. And you, Nancy, have a bit more patience with her." I raised my head upon hearing his words. I wanted to say something but my throat felt like it was glued shut. I couldn't utter a word. A person who had been with him for over six years—was requested for patience. "Any objections?" Bruce asked. I suppressed the discomfort in my chest and replied calmly, "Mr. Harold is indeed considerate. I have to admit that I can't compare." "Doesn't seem like it," he said, fixing his eyes on my face. "Is Ms. Fisher dissatisfied with how I handled this?" He seemed like a judge in court. Although he had already sentenced us, he still asked if the convict was satisfied with the verdict. Thinking about the hard-won investment, I met Bruce's gaze and politely replied with a hint of detachment, "No, there’s nothing wrong." Bruce's eyelashes trembled slightly. After a sarcastic laugh, he immediately stood up and left. I involuntarily sent him off to the elevator. As soon as the elevator doors closed, I urgently leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. There was a bitter taste in my mouth, as if I had swallowed something foul. Not long after, Cindy sent me a message saying she would try her best and not let me and Bruce down. I closed the conversation and continued coding. The next day, Cindy did as she said she would. She was studying diligently and even worked overtime, breaking her usual pattern. Yet again, I was amazed by the power of love. At nine in the evening, my stomach began to growl. I picked up my sandwich on the table and headed to the pantry. As I was about to unwrap the sandwich, there was a commotion near the entrance. I looked up, thinking my eyes were playing tricks on me. Bruce was standing at the doorway, holding an exquisite lunch box from Rico Restaurant. Compared to the sandwich in my hands, the difference was stark. Our eyes met, and I heard him asking, "Where's Cindy?" Upon hearing his voice, Cindy came out of the office joyfully. "Bruce, I told you not to come! Aren't you busy at work?" Bruce smiled and responded warmly, "You must be hungry. Have some first." “Well, I do feel a bit hungry." As she finished her words, she took Bruce into the office. After a few steps, however, she turned around to look at me. Her gaze fell on the sandwich in my hands. "Nance, this isn’t healthy for you. Want to join us?" she asked. She meant well, but my heart couldn't help but tighten a little. The sandwich in my hands suddenly didn't look as appetizing. Unsure where the defiance came from, I blurted out, "It's fine. My stomach isn't that precious." Hearing this, Cindy's smile stiffened. She lowered her gaze, looking like a wounded kitten. She whispered, "Nance, I didn't mean it that way." Standing beside Cindy, Bruce frowned and said, "Ms. Fisher, Cindy was being kind to you." Indeed. To a prince like himself, giving candy to a beggar before him was considered a noble deed. Who would care about the beggar's dignity? I suddenly realized that I was being petty. After all, maintaining a good relationship with investors was also part of the job. Thus, I picked up the sandwich and said, "I was just craving this recently." Cindy looked enlightened. "Right, the dishes from Rico Restaurant are indeed a little bland." I begged to differ but chose not to say anything in return. The matter was closed, but eating the sandwich left a bad taste in my mouth. Soon, I felt discomfort in my stomach. Initially, I didn't take it seriously. But moments later, waves of pain attacked my nerves from all directions, making me break out in a cold sweat. I took out some stomach medicine and went into the pantry, clutching my stomach. It was too painful. The pain was so intense that I couldn't even hold the cup steady. With a crisp sound, the glass in my hand slipped and fell heavily to the ground, shattering into pieces. I clenched my teeth while fighting the pain. Just as I took a step forward, I felt my legs give way—and I collapsed to the ground. Thinking about the broken glass on the floor, I panicked and closed my eyes. But, the anticipated pain did not come. A strong and powerful arm tightly wrapped around my waist, and there was a sharp and chilly scent. In an instant, memories of a fiery embrace from long ago resurfaced. This hug felt too real and unbelievable. Perplexed, I opened my eyes and slightly raised my gaze to meet Bruce's eyes. Under the bright light of the overhead lamp, his eyes seemed covered in a faint layer of mist, exuding threads of concern and tenderness. He asked gently, "Can you stand?" Only then did I realize that I was lying in Bruce's arms. Just as I was about to speak, Cindy's soft voice abruptly interrupted, "Bruce, what are you two... doing?" I struggled out of Bruce's embrace, politely saying, "Thank you, Mr. Harold." Bruce looked at Cindy calmly and explained, "Ms. Fisher isn't feeling well. She couldn't stand steady just now." Cindy glanced at me suspiciously and said, "Then let's take Nancy to the hospital." Her voice was soft, clearly just a formality. I leaned on the counter to press down the pain in my stomach. I tactfully found an excuse for myself, "It's just my period. A little medicine will do the trick. No need to bother. Cindy visibly relaxed, but Bruce insisted, "If you can't even stand steady, let's go to the hospital for a check-up." His tone was quite firm. It was as if he was afraid something might happen to me. It was very unusual. Cindy also noticed this. She bit her lip and timidly looked at Bruce. She said, "How considerate of you, Bruce." Bruce's expression froze for a moment. He glanced at me, then walked over to Cindy. He took her hand and led her out of the pantry. He was probably going to comfort her. I seized the opportunity to take the medicine and waited for a while before leaving the pantry. Just as I took a few steps, Bruce's deep voice entered my ears, "She's responsible for this project, after all. Wouldn't it delay your thesis next year if anything happens to her?" It felt like a bucket of cold water had just poured over me. I realized Bruce had only helped me because he worried that I, the project leader, would affect Cindy's thesis.