Chapter 144
Actually, the moment George's low voice came from behind me, I already knew he was there.
That familiar scent, a mix of cold woody fragrance, descended like an invisible net, silently enveloping me.
But I had no intention of acknowledging him.
I forced myself to focus all my attention on the screen and data streams in front of me, not even sparing him a glance from the corner of my eye, as if he were just some irrelevant background noise.
William clearly noticed George's approach too, but seeing my complete lack of reaction, he merely gave George an extremely cold nod as a greeting, then turned his gaze back to the screen and continued our low-voiced discussion.
Naturally, Sarah followed along too.
She probably felt uncomfortable that George had taken the initiative to speak to me, so she also came over, wearing a fake sweet smile, seemingly wanting to interrupt or exchange pleasantries with me.
I treated her like air, didn't even lift my eyelids, keeping all my attention on the technical discussion with William.
Sarah looked a bit embarrassed and glanced at George with a wronged expression.
But George didn't look at her. His gaze seemed to constantly, vaguely fall on my profile, or on the way William and I conversed in low voices.
What I found extremely weird and irritating was that from then on, George became like a shadow I couldn't shake off, or rather, a silent and stubborn little tail.
When William and I finished viewing the demonstration and moved to another angle to observe the data, he followed, standing at a moderate distance, not saying anything, just watching.
When William led me to the buffet area to get some water, he followed too, standing a few steps away, his eyes scanning the food table but taking nothing.
I really never imagined it.
That one day, George, who had always been so high above, whom I had to look up to and beg for just a glance, would follow behind me in such an almost clingy manner.
After all, during those long six years, I was the humble one, carefully following behind him, trying to get close to him, trying to fit into his world.
I chased his footsteps, catered to his preferences, endured his coldness, all just to earn a bit of his occasional, charity-like attention.
Now, the roles seemed to have subtly reversed.
But I felt no satisfaction or pride, only deep disgust and impatience.
I didn't know what he wanted. Did he feel uncomfortable that I was ignoring him?
Or did the intimate way William and I interacted bother him?
Either way, it all felt incredibly ironic and annoying.
Just as William and I were about to find Atticus to learn more about the project proposal and see if there might be potential for cooperation, I noticed a particularly piercing gaze.
I looked up and met Atticus's eyes from a distance.
He was frowning at me, his expression showing clear disapproval, even displeasure.
Only later did I realize that his displeasure probably came from thinking I was snubbing George, that as a wife, I wasn't giving my husband face in public, which he found really inappropriate.
How ridiculous. I sneered inwardly.
William led me to Atticus and politely asked to see a more detailed proposal, to discuss whether Star Tech's existing technology could deeply cooperate with the Morgan Group's project.
Atticus wore a formulaic smile. After hearing William out, he turned his gaze to me, his tone carrying deliberate condescension and difficulty, "Of course Mr. Jones can see it, but..." He paused, his eyes sweeping across my face, "Ms. Brown doesn't need to see it, right? These proposals involve quite a few technical terms and data models, pretty dry and complex stuff."
"Ms. Brown probably wouldn't understand anyway. It would just be a waste of time. Why doesn't Ms. Brown go sit in the lounge area?"
His words were polite, but the meaning couldn't be clearer.
He wouldn't let me see it. He didn't think I was qualified.
William's expression immediately darkened, clear displeasure appearing between his brows.
Just as he was about to refute, I gently tugged at his sleeve.
"It's fine, William," I shook my head at him, my tone calm, "You go ahead and look, look carefully. I'll go wander around elsewhere, get some air."
I knew Atticus was doing this on purpose.
Because of our conversation in the hallway earlier.
Because of the intimate way William and I interacted.
Because of his ridiculous logic of standing up for George. He was deliberately targeting me, trying to embarrass me.
I couldn't let William get into a direct conflict with Atticus because of me.
Reviewing proposals and discussing cooperation was business, something William as Star Tech's representative had to take seriously.
I couldn't let a bit of personal unpleasantness affect the company's potential opportunities.
William looked at me, his eyes showing both apology and anger.
I gave him a slight smile, signaling him to relax, then turned and walked away alone.
I needed some air.
The fake socializing here, the confrontational glances, and that tail I couldn't shake off all made me feel suffocated.
I walked toward the relatively quiet fire escape, following the stairs, and without realizing it, reached the small rooftop on the top floor.
It was empty here, with only the high-altitude city wind carrying a hint of coolness, brushing against my cheeks and slightly dispersing the heaviness in my heart.
I walked to the railing and looked down at the traffic below, taking several deep breaths of the dusty but free air.
However, this brief tranquility was soon broken.
From the other side of the rooftop, a tall figure emerged.
It was George.
He seemed to also want to get some air here, or he had followed me up.
I couldn't be bothered to figure out which.
He was somewhat irritably pulling at the tie around his neck, his movements a bit rough, tugging the once-meticulous knot askew, even unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt, revealing a small patch of firm neck skin.
His brows were tightly furrowed, his face showing a rarely seen, undisguised irritation and impatience, even a trace of fatigue.
I rarely saw this side of George.
In front of me, he was always indifferent, cold, his emotions like an unfathomably deep pool of stagnant water. Even when ripples occasionally appeared, they were mostly annoyance and displeasure.
Such obviously exposed irritation was almost unprecedented.
I hadn't expected to see him with part of his disguise down on an occasion like this.
I looked away, not wanting to explore why he was irritated.
Everything about him no longer concerned me.
I turned to leave this place where he was.
"Grace," but George called out to me.
I didn't stop.
He stepped forward quickly and grabbed my wrist just as I was about to push open the rooftop door.
His palm was warm, his grip strong, squeezing my wrist painfully.
I whipped around, looking at him with icy eyes, my voice equally cold, "Let go."
George looked at the undisguised disgust and resistance in my eyes, his movement pausing almost imperceptibly.
Then, he actually let go. Decisively and cleanly, without any hesitation or reluctance.
I sneered inwardly.
He sure let go quickly.
If only he could be this decisive about the divorce, that would be great.
Then I wouldn't have to play these games with him here, enduring this nauseating entanglement and probing.
I had already decided not to waste any more words with him and just leave.
But just as I was turning around, I remembered the phone call from Mr. Lucas this morning.
Mr. Lucas told me that the court filing notice had long been delivered to George.
But the stipulated response period was almost over, and George's side still hadn't submitted any response, nor sent back the receipt.
Mr. Lucas suggested I try to understand George's attitude and intentions indirectly, or push him again.
Since he had delivered himself to my doorstep, I might as well take this opportunity to ask. Better to avoid complications.
I stopped, turned around, faced him again and asked coldly, "You just grabbed me, what did you want? Did you want to talk to me about something?"
George seemed surprised that I would stop and ask him.
He had already readjusted his tie somewhat. Though still a bit loose, that exposed irritation had been mostly restrained, returning to his usual indifference.
He looked at me, his tone flat, "Nothing much. I just don't like you constantly avoiding me."
"I'm not going to eat you."