Chapter 29
In the call log, there was indeed an incoming call from last night, and the caller was Freya.
It seemed Michael had been blocked by me, so he used Freya's phone to call instead.
I opened the call record and saw the duration was three minutes and twenty seconds.
Three minutes—plenty could happen in that time.
Now I had a pretty good idea of what went down. I put the phone back in my pocket and walked out.
Benjamin was sitting at the head of the long dining table downstairs. He'd changed into casual home clothes, looking less sharp than his business persona and more relaxed and refined.
He was leisurely sipping coffee while scrolling through a tablet. Morning light poured through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, highlighting his perfect profile.
Hearing my footsteps, he looked up. His gaze swept over me, and seeing I'd recovered my usual appearance, he said coolly, "You're up? Come have breakfast."
I walked over and sat across from him. The butler immediately brought me an elegant breakfast spread.
"Mr. Wilson," I got straight to the point, "thank you for last night."
He acknowledged with a sound, his eyes still on the tablet, seemingly indifferent to my thanks.
I paused, then mentioned casually, "My phone rang last night. I think it was a... former colleague calling. I wonder if something urgent came up."
Benjamin's finger stopped scrolling. He finally looked up at me, his lips curving into an ambiguous smile. "Your ex-husband seems very concerned about you."
He called it out directly, with no intention of hiding anything.
My heart skipped a beat, but I kept my face neutral, just gently stirring the porridge in my bowl with a spoon. "Ex-husband?"
Benjamin put down the tablet, picked up his coffee for a sip, his deep gaze falling on my face with a hint of scrutiny. "Last night, a mad dog followed your scent all the way to my phone, barking nonstop."
His description was both cutting and accurate. I almost couldn't hold back a laugh.
"What did he say?" I asked with feigned curiosity.
Benjamin seemed to recall last night's call, his handsome brows furrowing almost imperceptibly, a flash of disgust in his eyes.
"Nothing much," he said dismissively. "Just the rage and interrogation of an incompetent man, demanding why you were avoiding him, demanding whether you'd taken up with another man."
When he said that last part, his gaze settled heavily on me, as if observing my reaction.
I met his eyes directly and asked calmly, "So how did you answer?"
"I told him," Benjamin set down his coffee cup and leaned forward slightly, bringing an overwhelming sense of pressure, "where Ophelia is and what she's doing is none of his business."
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable authority.
I could almost picture Michael on the other end of the line, furious yet helpless in his frustration.
Benjamin paused, then added, "I also told him you weren't feeling well and needed rest, and if he called again to harass you, he'd face the consequences."
So that's what happened.
A warm feeling passed through my heart. I lowered my eyes and thanked him again. "Last night... thank you for everything—not just taking me in, but also blocking those harassing calls."
He acknowledged with a sound, but the topic shifted abruptly. "Ophelia, you really have terrible judgment."
I froze for a moment, looked up, and met his eyes that held a hint of mockery.
"Whether choosing an ex-husband or choosing family," he commented bluntly, "they're all ridiculously poor choices."
Though harsh, it was an undeniable truth.
Unable to argue, I could only laugh self-deprecatingly. "That's why I'm now working hard to improve my judgment by choosing a more powerful partner, right?"
My words seemed to please him.
The mocking curve at Benjamin's lips finally transformed into a genuine smile.
He stood up and picked up the suit jacket draped over his chair. "Have the driver take you to work after breakfast. My lawyer will send you the investment contract this afternoon. Once you've reviewed it and everything looks good, we can sign anytime."
As he walked past me, he paused. The hand that had covered my eyes last night hesitated for a moment before finally landing on top of my head, giving it a gentle pat.
The gesture carried a clumsy attempt at comfort.
"Don't let yourself get so messed up over people and things that aren't worth it."
With that, he turned and strode out of the dining room on his long legs.
I sat there, feeling the lingering warmth on my head, my emotions mixed.
Benjamin was like a dangerous drug—knowing that getting close would be addictive, that he would control me, yet the protection and powerful support he offered were impossible to resist.
But right now, the most important thing was to deal with the Amelia problem first.
After finishing breakfast, I took Benjamin's car to the StoryArc Media building.
The moment I stepped into the office, Amelia's gloating gaze latched onto me.
She clicked over in her heels, swaying her hips, and stopped in front of me with her arms crossed and chin held high, her tone full of unconcealed mockery. "Luna, you're here? So, how'd it go? After running around all day yesterday, any progress on that hundred-million-dollar investment?"
She deliberately raised her voice to make sure everyone in the office could hear.
Colleagues looked up one after another, exchanging looks that said they were ready for a show.
I showed appropriate fatigue and difficulty on my face, shaking my head gently. "It's only been one day. A hundred million dollar investment isn't pocket change—it's not that easy..."
My show of weakness greatly satisfied Amelia's vanity. The smugness on her face intensified, and she laughed dramatically. "True, how could I have such unrealistic expectations of a newbie like you? After all, not everyone can create value for the company."
After saying this, as if suddenly remembering something, she gave an exaggerated cry and slapped her forehead. "Oh, right, I forgot to tell you some 'good news.'"
She deliberately paused, enjoying everyone's curious stares, then slowly, word by word, announced: "Just now, headquarters sent an email saying they're very interested in our subsidiary's recent activities, especially this project in collaboration with Aurora. So headquarters has decided to send an inspection team in one week to personally hear the project report and evaluate the project's value and... the competence of the person in charge."
When she said "the competence of the person in charge," her gaze fell on me like a knife, full of malicious satisfaction.
The office immediately filled with suppressed gasps.
Everyone knew what this meant.
An inspection dropped in from headquarters—this was a major event that rarely happened at StoryArc Media.