Chapter 92 Protecting You
Chapter 92 Protecting You
In the dressing room, the air felt thick as ice.
Lily slammed her laptop down on the vanity table, the screen blazing with a stream of vicious comments.
[John, get out of Hollywood!]
She jerked her head up, the bloodshot veins in her eyes more intense than John's stage smoky makeup.
"Look at these numbers! We're hemorrhaging ten thousand followers every hour. The investors won't stop calling—they're blowing up my phone! I just buried one scandal, and now they've bought an even bigger trending spot!"
John's fingers gripping the script had gone white, the page edges crumpled from his death grip.
It wasn't that he didn't care—he just hated this feeling of being jerked around like a puppet.
Those out-of-context screenshots, those fabricated stories—they stuck to him like mud, impossible to shake off and absolutely disgusting.
"But the more we explain, the guiltier we look!"
His voice came out hoarse, his gaze fixed on the window.
"When they get tired of it..."
"We can't wait!"
Lily's voice cracked, tears threatening to spill.
"The media set visit is next week! With your reputation right now, the investors are talking about recasting!"
"You think this is just another gig? This is your shot at becoming a serious actor!"
"John, if you keep being this stubborn, I really... I can't do this anymore!"
That last sentence hit John like a slap, catching him completely off guard.
He looked at Lily's red-rimmed eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Finally, he swallowed back the "screw them" that had been on the tip of his tongue.
He just lowered his head to flip through the script, his voice barely above a whisper.
"...Send me the PR plan."
Meanwhile, in the hospital room.
The smell of disinfectant mixed with the gardenia fragrance from Olivia's flowers, somehow cutting through the stuffiness.
Charles scrolled through his tablet, stopping at an email Olivia's team had sent at 2 AM.
The attachment contained three design drafts that Selene had rejected, covered in dense revision notes ranging from [Not international enough] to [Color scheme looks like a daycare center.] Every comment reeked of deliberate sabotage.
He pressed his fingers to his temples, about to call Wilder.
The door opened.
Olivia walked in carrying a thermos, her white shirt sleeves rolled up to her forearms, revealing wrists still stained with watercolor paint—clearly she'd rushed over from the studio.
"Busy?"
She set the thermos on the nightstand, her gaze casually sweeping across the tablet screen before pausing.
Charles instinctively moved to close the page, but she pressed her hand over his.
Her fingertips, cool from the paint, gently covered the back of his hand.
"You don't need to hide it. I know what Selene's up to."
"I had Wilder check the project's material suppliers."
Charles turned his hand to grasp hers, his voice carrying barely detectable urgency.
"Three of them are Peterson family subsidiaries. I can make them..."
"Charles."
Olivia interrupted him, pulling her hand away to open the thermos.
"Last week, she deliberately held up our fire safety permits. I had the team redo the safety assessment three times and submitted it directly to the city building department. The permits went through."
She ladled out a bowl of soup, the broth clear and golden.
"She wants design changes? I have my assistant copy the revision records to all our partners."
"She questions material quality? I took our partners to see the lumber harvesting certificates and environmental testing reports at the forest site."
She handed him the soup bowl, her eyes bright as polished glass.
"Four years ago in Valeria, I stayed up all night alone revising designs, got bullied by partners until I cried, but I still gritted my teeth and landed that project."
"You better take a good look—I'm way tougher now than I was back then."
Charles looked at her straight shoulders, something gently striking his chest—a mix of ache and inexplicable pride.
His Olivia had really grown into someone who could stand on her own.
"Okay."
He took the soup bowl, his voice softening.
"But if she goes too far..."
"I'll tell you. Don't worry."
As she finished speaking, Olivia's eyes met Charles's, silently urging him to drink the soup.
He obediently complied, suddenly looking like a little kid.
But despite Olivia's reassurances, Charles still felt uneasy.
He really couldn't stand Selene's bullshit.
He decided he'd meet with her himself and have a serious talk.
The next day at 3 PM.
Charles appeared at the Peterson Group entrance, leaning on his cane.
His black custom coat fluttered in the autumn wind, revealing the white shirt underneath with two buttons undone at the collar.
The pallor from his illness didn't diminish his presence—if anything, it added a sharper edge.
When the doorman recognized him, he dropped his greeting pole, stammering.
"Mr. Green?"
"...What brings you here?"
"I'm here to see Selene."
Charles's voice wasn't loud, but it carried undeniable authority.
The news spread like wildfire, reaching every floor of the building within three minutes.
A junior marketing employee secretly messaged the group chat.
"Breaking news! Charles is actually at Peterson Group! Right now! Even the security guards are gathering downstairs!"
The design department director peered through the blinds, whistling low.
"Coming at a time like this—is he here to pick a fight?"
Even in the boardroom on the top floor, several senior executives paused their discussion, exchanging glances—
Everyone knew that while the Green and Peterson families maintained a facade of cooperation, they'd been harboring resentment over shares and marriage arrangements for years.
Now, Charles was showing up sick and all—this was bound to be drama!
At that moment, Selene was in her office, tearing into Anna, who'd come to claim credit.
Sometimes, Selene really had to admire these clueless nobodies.
The plan hadn't even worked, and she had the nerve to show up at her door?
Ever since being publicly exposed by Olivia at the review meeting, Anna had been like a stray dog.
She really had no other options, which was why she'd come to Peterson Group seeking Selene's protection.
"Can't even handle such a simple thing—what use are you to me?"
Selene laughed coldly, catching sight of her secretary rushing in with a panicked expression.
"What are you freaking out about?"
"Charles is here! Right outside! Says he wants to see you!"
Selene's pen clattered to the floor.
Ink splattered across the ground like an ugly black flower.
"What's he here for?"
She shot to her feet, her heels clicking urgently against the floor.
"Tell him I'm in a meeting!"
Selene knew damn well that Charles showing up at this time couldn't possibly be for a friendly chat about feelings or life.
He was probably here to pick a fight over certain people!
Before she'd finished speaking, the office door was pushed open from outside.
Charles walked in step by step, leaning on his cane, each step seeming to land directly on people's hearts.
Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, casting a cold golden outline around his figure.
Seeing this, Anna and the assistant bolted like scared rabbits.