Chapter 50 Unexpected Tensions

Chapter 50 Unexpected Tensions

Emily's cheeks flushed slightly. "I was just making conversation. I can't compare to someone of your stature."

Morris didn't respond, just offered a slight smile before continuing up the mountain. Emily hurried to keep pace, relieved that he had slowed down considerably compared to earlier.

They reached the summit and spent time in the mountaintop rest area, enjoying lunch and brewing a pot of coffee afterward. The afternoon passed leisurely as they took in the panoramic views of Port Brighton below.

When it came time to descend, Emily felt the consequences of her earlier exertion. Her legs trembled, refusing to cooperate as she attempted to navigate downhill. Her pace slowed to a crawl.

Morris quickly noticed her struggle. "Do you need me to help you?"

"N-no, I'm fine," Emily waved him off, continuing to push forward on her wobbly legs.

Seeing her stubbornness despite her obvious difficulty, Morris sighed and moved beside her, taking her arm to steady her before she could risk a fall down the steep path.

The sudden contact startled Emily. She jerked away reflexively, yanking her arm free from his grasp.

Caught off guard, Morris lost his footing and stepped awkwardly on a rock. A sharp pain shot through his ankle, causing cold sweat to break out across his forehead.

"Mr. Anderson, what's wrong?" Emily asked, immediately concerned.

"Twisted my ankle," he grimaced.

"Let me see," Emily knelt to examine his ankle. "It's starting to swell. We're not far from the bottom—can you try walking?"

Morris attempted a step. "It's manageable. I can make it down."

Emily forgot about her own shaky legs and helped him, guiding his arm over her shoulders as they made their slow descent. Despite her small frame, years of physical work had given her surprising strength, and she handled his weight without complaint.

Feeling the warmth radiating from Emily's body, Morris was mumbling, "Thank you."

"Please don't say that. I should be apologizing to you. I'm the one who invited you hiking, and I'm the reason you hurt your ankle. This is entirely my fault."

They soon reached the bottom of the mountain. Emily wiped sweat from her brow and said, "Wait here a moment while I bring the car around."

Before Morris could respond, she was already jogging toward the parking lot. He watched her small figure disappear into the distance, somewhat amazed that someone so petite had just supported him down the mountain.

She seemed to possess an inexhaustible reservoir of strength despite her size.

Emily drove them home, and although Morris's ankle had improved considerably, seeing her worried expression made him decide to let it appear more painful than it actually was.

"Let me ice that for you, Mr. Anderson." Emily retrieved an ice pack and gently applied it to his swollen ankle.

As she bent over his foot, Morris found himself impulsively reaching out to touch her hair.

It felt soft beneath his fingers.

Emily looked up, her expression quizzical.

"You had something in your hair," Morris said with a nervous smile. "I removed it for you."

A few minutes later, he suddenly sat up straight, his expression uncomfortable.

"What's wrong?" Emily asked.

"I need to go upstairs for a moment."

"Do you need me to get something for you?"

"No, that's not necessary," Morris blushed. "I need to use the bathroom. Not something you can help with."

Emily cleared her throat softly. "You're not moving well right now. I should help you up the stairs at least."

"Alright then," Morris agreed, his ears now turning red too. He immediately regretted pretending his ankle was worse than it was—this was becoming awkward.

After helping him to the bathroom door, Emily retreated to the other end of the hallway. When Morris emerged, she promptly returned to assist him back downstairs.

As they approached the sofa, Emily's foot caught on the edge of the coffee table. Both of them tumbled onto the couch, with Emily landing directly on top of Morris.

She was bracing against his chest, mouth slightly open, eyes wide with shock. Their faces were inches apart, noses nearly touching, in a position that couldn't be more intimate.

Morris stared up at the woman above him, transfixed. Her lips looked so inviting that he felt an irresistible urge to taste them.

Feeling her breath on his face, Morris lifted his head slightly, drawn to those tempting lips.

Just as they were about to kiss, Emily was the first to regain her senses. She quickly turned her face aside and efficiently extracted herself from their entanglement.

"I'll go make dinner," she announced, promptly disappearing into the kitchen.

Morris sat up, frustrated with himself. He'd been so close to kissing her—if only he'd been quicker, more decisive. Then he shook his head, dismissing the thought. They were merely employer and housekeeper right now. Taking advantage of her would be inappropriate. If anything were to happen between them, it should only be after they'd established an actual relationship.

Thinking about it further, he realized Emily's decision not to renew her contract might actually be beneficial. If he wasn't her boss, perhaps she'd be more receptive to dating him?

Meanwhile, Emily had fled to the kitchen, hand pressed against her racing heart. The scene kept replaying in her mind, each recollection bringing a fresh wave of flustered emotions.



Deep into the night, Morris lay in bed, eyes tightly shut, muttering in his sleep, "No, Emily, don't marry him."

In his dream, he was attending Emily's wedding. She was marrying one of her former employers—someone she had supposedly fallen in love with during her time working in their home.

But in Morris's eyes, that man was inferior in every way—not as tall, not as handsome, certainly not as wealthy as himself.

After the ceremony, Morris managed to get Emily alone for a moment. "Why marry him?" he asked in confusion. "What does he have that I don't?"

Dream-Emily answered with tears in her eyes, "He was braver than you, Morris. If you had been just a little more courageous back then, it would be you I'd be marrying today."

That tear jolted Morris awake. He placed a hand over his pounding heart, immensely relieved it had only been a dream.

"I can't let this happen," he resolved. "As soon as her contract ends, I'm going to tell her how I feel."



The day of Emily's interview arrived. The executive couple she was meeting were incredibly busy, so the interview was scheduled at a coffee shop near the woman's office.

The female executive arrived in a rush, barely glancing at Emily's resume before giving her a quick once-over and nodding decisively. "You'll do," she said.

Then she hurried away in her high heels as abruptly as she had arrived.

Though their interaction lasted barely two minutes, Emily had already formed a clear impression of her new employer. The woman was clearly a high-powered career woman who operated at a rapid pace and didn't concern herself with minor details. While impressive professionally, her family connections likely suffered from her limited attention—probably contributing to her child's depression.

This position, like her current one, wouldn't require living in. Emily planned to bring Yoyo to her small rental apartment and went to discuss this with Morris.

To her surprise, he immediately refused. "Absolutely not! You can't take Yoyo away."