Chapter 71 Feeling Irritated

Chapter 71 Feeling Irritated

The car window rolled up slowly, sealing out that cloying presence.

The car merged smoothly into traffic. Andrew caught sight of Valentin's thunderous expression in the rearview mirror and had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.

The silence during the drive was oppressive, the atmosphere in the car glacial.

At an intersection, the car rolled to a stop at a red light.

Valentin tugged at his tie irritably, his gaze drifting toward the window without thinking.

A familiar figure caught his eye—inside a softly lit restaurant on the street.

Giselle.

She sat by the window, her profile to the street.

She was still wearing that gray suit from the interview, her hair falling loose around her shoulders. The workplace tension had melted away, replaced by an easy, relaxed warmth.

Across from her sat an animated girl. The two had their heads together over a phone, and whatever they were looking at made Giselle laugh suddenly.

Her eyes crinkled with genuine delight, her smile open and unguarded, as if she were glowing from within—a brightness that could cut through the winter cold.

Valentin's breath caught.

How long had it been since he'd seen her smile like that? In his memory, she was always guarded, tense, or on the verge of breaking when he'd backed her into a corner.

He had never seen her laugh so freely, so openly.

And this smile had nothing to do with him.

The realization hit like a knife between the ribs, stirring up something he couldn't quite name—irritation mixed with... jealousy.

"Isn't that Giselle?" Andrew followed his gaze, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Having dinner with a friend? She looks happy. Want to stop and say hello?"

Valentin's gaze stayed locked on that laughing face, something heavy settling in his chest, making it hard to breathe.

That smile was too bright, illuminating the darkest corners of himself he refused to acknowledge.

"Drive," he said flatly, his voice empty of emotion.

The light turned green. Andrew hit the gas, and the car glided into the night, leaving that warm scene behind.

"You sure you don't want to go back?" Andrew caught Valentin's sour expression in the rearview mirror and pushed his luck. "She looks really happy. You could still catch them if you turn around now."

Valentin didn't answer. He simply turned his head, staring coldly at the street scene rushing past outside the window, his eyes behind those glasses dark and unreadable.

He, Valentin, wasn't so desperate that he'd crash some ungrateful woman's dinner plans.

Inside the restaurant, Giselle was completely oblivious to the brief drama outside.

She was excitedly telling Quiana about landing the job, her eyes bright when she got to the good parts.

"Oh, and fair warning—steer clear of Wendy when you see her at the office." Quiana pressed a hand to her chest dramatically, lowering her voice as if sharing classified information. "She's Ms. Fuller's baby girl. I heard she was only found and brought home when she was seventeen. Ms. Fuller and her husband feel so guilty about the lost years, they let her get away with murder. Literally hit someone with a car? Someone else cleans it up. Cause a scene? Swept under the rug."

Quiana's tone carried a barely concealed thread of envy.

Giselle looked at her with mild surprise. "You seem to know a lot about her."

Quiana's expression flickered for a second before she waved it off quickly. "Oh, no, it's not like that. I have a friend at Shaw Holdings. You know how people in those circles are—they love trading gossip about the elite families. I heard it all from her."

Shaw Holdings? Giselle remembered—another powerhouse family in Kingshaven, right up there with the Dobbins Group and Fuller Corporation.

She studied Quiana's evasive eyes, a flicker of doubt crossing her mind.

Would an ordinary person really be so invested in the private lives of the upper crust, knowing intimate details like the fact that Wendy was found at seventeen?

She had a feeling Quiana's background wasn't as simple as it seemed—more like someone who'd actually been around Wendy.

Still, Giselle didn't push.

She'd dealt with enough lies and manipulation to last a lifetime. She was tired.

Quiana was the first person to show her genuine kindness since she'd landed in this city. She didn't want to poison this rare sense of ease with unfounded suspicion.

Everyone had secrets. As long as there was no malice, she was content to let sleeping dogs lie.

During her first month at Fuller Corporation, Giselle worked herself to the bone.

With her sharp professional skills and meticulous attention to detail, she quickly shut down the department gossip about her being some "nepotism hire."

When her first paycheck came through, the first thing she did was move out of Ethan's apartment.

She rented a studio in a building not far from the office. The space was small, but the light was good.

Over the following months, Giselle's life became nothing but work.

Like a sponge, she soaked up new knowledge frantically, desperate to carve out a place for herself in this new world.

Staying busy was the best medicine for everything.

She barely had the energy to think about those awful people and events anymore. The name Valentin, along with that absurd and suffocating chapter of her life, had been locked away in the deepest recesses of her mind.

Only in the occasional quiet moments late at night would she briefly lose focus.

Remembering Valentin's ice-cold stare, his explosive rage, his clumsy attempts at protecting her... it all felt like some fever dream.

Now the dream was over, and she was just an ordinary girl fighting tooth and nail to survive. Nothing more.

Before she knew it, deep winter had arrived.

The bitter wind whipped up dead leaves, howling through the canyon of office towers.

Giselle pulled her wool coat tighter and said goodbye to a few coworkers who'd just clocked out in front of the building.

"Giselle, you better show up to the department dinner this weekend!"

"I will. Get home safe."

She smiled and waved, then turned toward the bus stop.

But the moment she rounded the corner, her steps froze.

Under a streetlight up ahead, a black Bentley sat idling.

That understated yet commanding car, with the license plate number burned into her memory, gleamed in the sickly yellow light like a predator lying in wait, radiating a silent but suffocating menace.

The winter wind knifed through her collar. Giselle shivered involuntarily.

She stared at the car, her breath stopping.

For a moment, she tried to convince herself this was just a hallucination from working too hard.

After all, Kingshaven was huge. Sure, the Dobbins Group and Fuller Corporation did business together, but that didn't mean the almighty CEO of the Dobbins Group would personally camp out on a street corner like some stalker, waiting to ambush someone.

Until the heavy door swung open, and that tall, imposing figure stepped out into the cold night air.