Chapter 38 Chapter 38
She floated in midair, watching her trembling reflection. Her entire body shook like a sailboat on the sea, poised to be capsized by the next giant wave. Looking up at the massive screen again, she suddenly recalled his remark about the poor viewing angle. He was right—from this vantage point, only a few blurry, tangled figures were visible.
Across from her, Benjamin was speaking, but she could no longer make out his words. She sat there, staring blankly at him, realizing that she was far less resilient than she had ever thought.
"Don't lose it! Don't lose it!" she screamed internally at her other self. She'd held on this far—how could she break now?
To Benjamin, it felt like an instant when the woman before him seemed drained of all life. Her face turned deathly white, and her lips faded to near transparency. Only her eyes remained hollow and despairing as they stared blankly at him.
He should have felt satisfied by her reaction, yet he found himself recalling how she’d climaxed in his arms last night.
Suddenly, he said to her, "It's been pixelated, and the audio's been altered. They won’t recognize you.”
But she still stared at him with that vacant gaze as if her soul had been stolen.
A strange unease gripped him. He rose and moved to sit beside her, gripping her trembling shoulders tightly. To his surprise, she offered no resistance; her body was still shaking uncontrollably, and the tremors were transmitted through his arms.
He gripped her even harder and called her name in a low voice, trying to rouse her. "Grace! Grace!”
After an unknown amount of time, her trembling finally began to subside and she gradually calmed down. Just as he exhaled in relief, she spoke in a faint voice: "Let me go, Benjamin. Please let me go.”
He slowly released his grip and leaned back slightly. He narrowed his eyes to study her. Though her face remained pale, her pupils were no longer hollow; they now held a glint of light.
She had recovered, returning to her unbreakable, indomitable self—stubborn enough to inspire both hatred and love.
Benjamin suddenly gave a soft, mocking chuckle. "It seems I underestimated your resilience. Perhaps the uncensored version would have been more effective."
She lowered her eyes, showing neither anger nor fear. She simply asked, "Benjamin, do you believe in God?"
He paused, hesitant to answer, but she continued without waiting for his response. "I do. I believe in God. So one day, you will face retribution. Someone will make you pay for your deeds, cast you into hell, and condemn you to eternal damnation."
Enraged, he laughed bitterly and lifted his hand to gently pinch her chin. "Is that so?" he asked coldly. "Rest assured, if that day ever comes, I'll send you to hell first. We can keep each other company. How about that?"
She met his gaze, her expression serene. "I'm already in hell. I'm waiting for you."
He watched her for a moment, then suddenly smiled and released her. "Fine," he answered.
Just then, a young woman's hesitant voice sounded from the side: “Excuse me, are you Mr. Benjamin from Norman Science?”
Both Benjamin and Grace looked up. It was the same girl Grace had met earlier delivering documents to Benjamin—a very cute girl with short hair, big eyes, and a few freckles on her face. She glanced at Benjamin, then at Grace, showing no sign of awkwardness. Her gaze returned to Benjamin as she waited for his response nervously.
Benjamin gave a slight nod. "Yes."
A sweet smile lit up the girl's face instantly. “I'm a huge fan of yours. After hearing your speech on innovation capital, I really started to admire you. Could I get your autograph?"
Benjamin was slightly taken aback. Due to his status and striking appearance, young women often approached him with admiration and struck up conversations. But someone as direct as this young girl, asking outright for an autograph, was extremely rare. He frowned, about to refuse, when she clasped her hands together and pleaded, "Please, Mr. Norman! I've already bragged to my classmates that I'd definitely get your autograph!"
Her pitiful expression couldn't soften Benjamin's heart. His expression remained impassive, tinged with irritation at the interruption. He replied coldly, "I don't sign autographs for just anyone."
Seeing his unyielding stance, the girl quickly turned to Grace, pleading, "Please help me! Please put in a good word for me? Ask Mr. Norman to just sign his name in my notebook. Do you remember me? We met at the service desk earlier. I even smiled at you."
Grace remembered the girl, recalling how she’d held a document folder earlier and claimed to be delivering papers to Benjamin. Now, with the papers seemingly vanished, she’d come begging for an autograph instead.
As if afraid Grace wouldn't recognize her or there would be a misunderstanding, the girl hurried to explain. "I'm the one who said I was delivering documents to Mr. Norman earlier. I’m sorry, I lied—I wasn't here for the documents. I just wanted Mr. Norman's autograph.”
She blinked her eyes pitifully at Grace, her gaze pleading. "Please help me get Mr. Norman's autograph! I'm begging you!"
Amused by the girl's approach, Benjamin couldn't help but smile. Glancing at Grace, he said, "If you beg me, I'll sign for her."
"I'm begging you," Grace replied immediately, her expression calm. She motioned for the girl to hand the notebook to Benjamin. "Sign it. Remember to write a few words of encouragement for the little girl."
Benjamin froze in surprise.
Grace looked up at the girl again and asked, "Any other requests? Like a photo with him?"
The girl paused, then lit up with surprise. She blurted out, "Can I take a photo? Really, can I take a photo with Mr. Norman?"
Grace didn't answer, only looked at Benjamin. Before he could respond, she added, "I'm begging you."
Benjamin froze at first, then couldn't help but smile. He reached out to take the girl's soft leather notebook, opened it on the coffee table and wrote his name. Then he asked, "What would you like me to write for you?"
The girl didn't respond immediately. Grace looked at her in surprise when she noticed her gaze fixed on the coffee table in front of her. There was a piece of paper on the table—the same note Benjamin had pulled out earlier, the one Grace had left for Vito.
"What should I write?" Benjamin asked again, lifting his head to look at the girl.
Only then did the girl seem to snap back to reality. She smiled. "Anything is fine! I'll love whatever you write!”
Benjamin tugged at the corners of his mouth, revealing a mocking smile. Then he lowered his head again and scribbled some clichéd platitudes. The little girl, however, turned to look at Grace. After a moment of hesitation, she asked , "Where did you buy these notes? It's so cute!"