Adam's POV
The medication finally began to take effect, and Stella's breathing gradually steadied. Watching her sleep, her usual sharp expression softened in slumber. Even in her dreams, she instinctively leaned towards me.
Her phone vibrated on the nightstand. She didn't stir, but I noticed the caller ID: "Grandmother."
Carefully, I got out of bed, walked to the living room, and gently closed the bedroom door before answering the call.
"Stella, dear," the old lady's voice oozed with that insincere sweetness I found so grating, "I heard Rouge nightclub blacklisted Lucy. You should be able to talk to the owner, right? You always have such good connections..."
"Grandmother," I interrupted her incessant chatter, "this is Adam."
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. "Oh! Adam... why... why isn't Stella answering?"
"Stella is asleep," I kept my voice steady, though anger simmered beneath the surface. "Regarding Lucy, Stella can't help. I suggest you stop bothering her about this, understood?"
"Understood," she stammered, her voice trembling. "I understand."
After hanging up, I stared at the ironic "Grandmother" label on the screen. Remembering how Stella had once pleaded with me for this woman, who now pressured her for Lucy's sake, a chill ran through me.
Returning to the bedroom, I found Stella still peacefully asleep in the dim light. She was too kind, always willing to help those unworthy of her efforts. But that was her nature—perhaps that was why I...
I pushed the thought aside and checked her temperature. The fever had subsided, but I would ensure she took her next dose on time.
\---
Stella's POV
The morning fog in Manhattan had yet to lift as our car glided smoothly through the empty streets.
Sitting in the back seat, I stifled a yawn and couldn't help but steal glances at Adam, who was diligently responding to emails on his tablet.
Even at this hour, he remained impeccably focused, his profile sharp in the growing light. How did he always manage to maintain such a perfect image?
Upon arriving at the Splendor set, he retrieved a brand-new white cashmere coat from the back seat and handed it to me.
"I'm off, see you later!" I was about to step out when he draped the coat over my shoulders.
I paused, a thought flashing through my mind. This top-tier coat wasn't available in this city. Adam had said he was here on a business trip, but who brings a special coat for me on a business trip?
I turned to look at his face. "Adam... are you really here on a business trip?"
"Yes," his curt reply made me smile.
He had no reason to lie about such a thing, but my intuition told me he wasn't here for business.
"I thought if you were here just to see me, I could give you a reward."
He raised an eyebrow. "What kind of reward? A good morning kiss? Or a farewell kiss?"
"A farewell kiss," I felt my cheeks heat up.
He chuckled softly. "With your kissing skills?"
"What's wrong with my kissing skills? My kissing skills—mmph!"
He pinched my chin and silenced my protest with his lips. I tried to push against his chest, but he easily caught my hands. When he finally let go, his thumb gently wiped away the traces at the corner of my mouth.
"Remember to take your medicine on time," he reminded softly.
\---
"Stella! Something terrible has happened!" As soon as I entered the building, I heard Lisa's panicked voice. "The director is furious because you didn't complete your work on time. You need to come quickly!"
In the meeting room, the director's face was stormy. "Stella, where is the design draft for the second male lead that I asked you to prepare yesterday?"
"I left it on your desk yesterday," I replied, puzzled.
The director frowned. "But there's nothing on my desk. Are you sure you didn't put it somewhere else?"
Before I could respond, the director slammed the table in anger. "If you didn't do the work, just admit it! Don't think I don't know you left right after the meeting yesterday! You're young and already shirking responsibilities!"
His words were harsh.
"I..."
"Stella, I'll let it slide this time since you're new, but don't let it happen again!"
"Director, I did it." Anny's smooth voice cut in as she handed over a portfolio.
The director didn't listen to my explanation and projected Anny's draft onto the screen, sighing in disappointment. "Since you didn't prepare, let's look at Anny's draft."
The projected drafts left me stunned.
These drafts... were identical to mine!
Anny stood up and explained her creative process. The drafts were so aesthetically pleasing and historically accurate that they quickly received unanimous approval.
"Impressive!" The director praised Anny before turning to scold me. "Stella, learn from this! This task was originally yours, and now a colleague had to cover for you!"
"Director, I have a question," I said coldly. "Since I was responsible for these drafts, why did Anny prepare them?"
"Junior, you can't assume everyone is as lazy as you. I, unlike you, seize every opportunity," Anny insinuated.
"Preparation?" I pointed at the projected drafts. "Your preparation involves stealing my drafts?"
The room erupted:
"Stealing? What's she talking about?"
"What does she mean by stealing?"
"What's going on?"
"You dare accuse me!" Her face turned red. "You didn't finish your work and now you're accusing me? Do you have any proof these drafts are yours?"
"Senior, when did you prepare these drafts?" I asked directly.
"I noticed you were the first to leave the set yesterday evening, worried you hadn't completed your work, so I stayed up all night to create these drafts."
Anny must have prepared her excuse well in advance.
"Very well!" I took out a stack of sketches from my work bag and displayed them one by one. "Everyone, please take a look."
"These sketches... are identical to Anny's drafts!" someone exclaimed.
"Anny, you said you prepared your drafts last night. If that's true, when did I draw these sketches?"
"If these sketches are sent to a professional institution for examination, it will show that the last strokes of these colors were made five days ago." I saw Anny about to speak.
"Anny, please hold your comments for two more minutes. Then you can say whatever you want."
I connected my laptop to the projector and, under dozens of eyes, typed a few lines of code.
A minute later, a new file appeared on the desktop. Opening it revealed drafts identical to Anny's!
"How... how is this possible? I clearly..."
"Clearly deleted them completely? Clearly couldn't find them in the recycle bin?" I chuckled. "I forgot to mention, my computer has a hidden backup feature. Did you think I would leave work files casually on the desktop?"
Anny's face turned pale as she collapsed into her chair.
Her composure finally shattered. "I... I didn't mean to... I just wanted to..."
The director cleared his throat awkwardly. "Since this was a misunderstanding, let's let it go. Anny made a mistake, but it's her first offense. Let's give her a chance to correct it."
"Please, Stella," Anny's voice trembled. "I admit I was wrong... I promise it won't happen again. We're both GT employees, you won't hold this against me, right?"
After everyone else left, her repentant facade quickly vanished. "You must be so pleased with yourself. You took my opportunity at the GT interview, and now you want to overshadow me here!"
I turned to face her, my expression calm but firm. "Anny, as a designer, professional ethics are more important than skill. Your actions today are pitiful. This is your last chance. Make the most of it."
I walked away, leaving her furious figure in the empty meeting room. On the way back to the office, I touched the cashmere coat Adam had given me, still feeling his warmth. Sometimes, justice arrives in unexpected ways.
*Remember to take your medicine.* His words echoed in my mind. I took out the medicine packet he had prepared, noting the carefully marked dosage times, and felt a warmth in my heart. When had his thoughtfulness become so natural? When had his care become something I relied on?
The morning fog in Manhattan finally lifted. I straightened my shoulders and walked into the office. Work awaited, and I only needed to prove myself.