Chapter 183
Manuel took a deep breath, withdrew his hand, and tucked it back into his coat pocket. His smile deepened. "Alright, get back to work. I'll head out. Your meals will be delivered on time starting tomorrow. Remember to eat."
He turned toward the door. When he reached it, as if remembering something, he turned his head and added, "The bed in the bedroom—I had them order a around seventy-nine inches wide one. If you think it's too small, we can get a bigger one."
Lucinda looked at him and finally couldn't help but laugh.
After Manuel left, Lucinda sat back down at her desk. Suddenly, she heard a sound from outside—like someone jumping.
She paused, a bit surprised.
Was... her brother?
How was that even possible?
She shook her head, withdrew her gaze, and had just opened a project report when footsteps sounded from outside again.
Fiona pushed the door open, her expression somewhat peculiar. She was holding a cardboard box filled with miscellaneous items and several stacks of old files.
"Ms. Wipere, Mr. Douglas was organizing things in the storage room next door."
Fiona paused, her voice dropping half a tone. "Then he found some... things that aren't really appropriate for the office."
Lucinda looked up. "What things?"
Fiona set the box on the desk and pulled out an envelope from the top. A heart-shaped sticker sealed it shut.
She didn't open it, just handed it over, her expression a bit awkward.
Lucinda took it. She didn't need to open it to know what was inside.
She glanced down at the handwriting and signature on the envelope. It was from a young guy in the tech department. His handwriting was actually quite nice—neatly written: [To Ms. Wipere.]
Next to it was a crudely drawn little rose.
At the same time, Manuel, who'd left not long ago, reappeared at the office door. The smile that had been on his face moments before had vanished without a trace. The cold look in his eyes couldn't be suppressed.
He held several more envelopes of the same style in his hand. He walked up to Lucinda's desk and placed them down one by one.
Exactly five.
"Found five of these." Manuel's voice dropped a notch. "Plus three sticky notes tucked under files that said things like 'Good morning' and 'You look beautiful today.' Looks like someone in this company has designs on you."
Lucinda leaned back in her chair, glanced down at the letters, and smiled helplessly.
She wasn't unaware of the feelings some of the guys in the company had. But their work efficiency was high, so she'd chosen to ignore it.
She just hadn't expected her brother to dig them all up.
Manuel watched her nonchalant expression, silent for two seconds, then turned to Fiona. "That guy in the tech department, and those few who always hang around the break room trying to sneak glances at Cindy—they haven't been here long. Transfer them all to the South City branch. Process the paperwork tomorrow."
Fiona froze for a moment, then nodded. "Understood."
Lucinda looked up at Manuel. "They're just love letters. It's not that serious."
"Not that serious?" Manuel turned to look at her, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "You're the president of Ridgeway Tech. He's an employee under you. Writing love letters—did he think about what people would say if they saw it? Where's your authority? Where are the company's rules?"
Lucinda didn't say anything more. She just smiled, pushed the letters to the corner of the desk, and picked up her documents to continue reading.
Manuel looked at her expression—clearly saying, "I don't care, but you're right"—and the coldness on his face finally eased a bit.
He turned to Fiona, his voice rising slightly. "Spread the word. The company is a place for work. If anyone else has the spare energy to think about nonsense like this, they can pack their things and leave."
Fiona responded and quickly left to carry out the orders.
Her crisp voice soon echoed down the hallway. Manuel stood at Lucinda's office door, watching her profile as she flipped through documents, then finally walked back in and sat down on the sofa, pulling out his phone and scrolling through it.
Before long, lunch arrived.
Manuel clapped his hands. Two men in white chef uniforms wheeled in an insulated food cart.
One spread a tablecloth on the coffee table. The other began pulling out dishes layer by layer from the insulated container.
Steamed grouper, braised pork ribs, abalone in oyster sauce, shrimp scrambled eggs, baby bok choy in superior broth, and a pot of slow-cooked soup.
The dishes were exquisite, the plating meticulous. The aroma slowly filled the office.
Lucinda set down her documents, glanced at the table full of food, then at Manuel, who had already sat down on the sofa and started rolling up his sleeves. She said helplessly, "Manuel, are you treating my office like a restaurant?"
Manuel didn't respond. He picked up the empty bowl in front of her, ladled out a bowl of soup, and placed it by her hand.
Then he picked up a shrimp and started peeling it.
His fingers were slender. His movements were clean and efficient. The shell came off intact, and he placed the shrimp meat in Lucinda's bowl.
Next, he picked up a pork rib, removed the bone, arranged the meat neatly, then speared a piece of fish and carefully picked out every bone before placing it on the small plate beside her bowl.
He was completely focused throughout, as if doing something very important.
Lucinda watched those hands—the same hands that had signed countless contracts, held countless decision-making powers—now peeling shrimp for her one by one.
She lowered her head, couldn't help but smile, and didn't refuse. She took a sip of the soup. The temperature was just right.
"Manuel, have you eaten?"
Manuel added more food to her plate. "I'm not hungry."
Lucinda looked at him but didn't call him out.
From this morning until now, he'd been busy nonstop. He hadn't even had a sip of water.
He was making sure she ate first.
The two of them ate quietly for about ten minutes.
Manuel sat across from her, adding food to her plate and ladling soup, but never once touching his own utensils.
When she was almost finished, Manuel set down his utensils, looked at her, and after a moment of silence, suddenly spoke. "Cindy, I have to go on a business trip tomorrow."
Lucinda looked up. "Where to?"
"Marigoldia. To negotiate a merger. If it goes smoothly, I'll be back in ten days to two weeks. If not, it might take a month." His voice was steady, but the end of his sentence dropped slightly. "I should've told you sooner, but I couldn't find the right time."
He paused, his gaze landing on her face. In those usually composed eyes, an emotion Lucinda rarely saw surfaced.
He'd only just come back. He'd barely had a chance to talk to Cindy, and now he had to leave again.
At the thought, a trace of reluctance colored Manuel's eyes. "While you're in Starlight City, call me anytime if something comes up."
His voice softened a bit more, and he added, "No matter what time, no matter where I am, I'll answer. If you need me to come back, I'll book a flight immediately."
Lucinda's fingers tightened slightly around her utensils.
Was this... the warmth of family?
At the Douglas family, she truly felt the affection she'd never experienced in twenty years.