Chapter 280
Chapter 280
Richard said nothing, turning to walk toward the dilapidated orchid greenhouse, starting to clear away the shattered glass that had been smashed down.
His shirt was soaked through, clinging tightly to his broad back, outlining the smooth lines of his muscles.
This Richard, who commanded empires in the business world, was now crouching in muddy water, using those same hands that had signed hundred-million-dollar contracts to carefully pick up sharp glass shards, his movements as focused as if he were handling a priceless treasure.
Margaret stood in place, watching his silhouette.
The rain was letting up, but the chill in her bones only deepened. The scene was so absurd it gave her a surreal sense of detachment. She wanted to tell him to stop, to say this wasn't his concern, but when the words reached her lips, not a single sound would come out.
For two days after the typhoon, Richard stayed.
He didn't bring up anything about feelings again, and didn't try to enter the main house of the Kennedy Manor. He lived in the temporary prefab housing the construction crew had set up, rising at dawn each day to clear the grounds alongside the workers.
He'd shed that soaked shirt, trading it for standard work gear issued by the crew. His tall frame still stood out in the crowd, but strangely, he'd shed all the intimidating presence that belonged to the CEO of the Neville Group.
He sawed through fallen tree trunks, hauled broken stones, restoring the ravaged grounds piece by piece. Sweat dampened his hair, mud splattered his cheeks. He didn't seem to care, just kept his head down and worked.
His silence carried more weight than any words could.
At first Margaret only watched from a distance, but then she started bringing three meals a day. She said nothing, and he quietly accepted them and ate.
This afternoon, the cleanup work was basically finished.
Richard was using a shovel to gather the last of the dead leaves when Margaret walked over, handing him a clean towel and a steaming cup of hot spiced cider.
"Drink some. It'll warm you up." Her voice was flat, emotionless.
Richard stopped what he was doing and accepted the hot cider.
The warmth from the ceramic mug slowly drove away the chill from his fingertips. He looked down at the steam rising from the cup, that scent of cinnamon and apples filling his nostrils, carrying a hint of sweet-tart warmth.
He held the mug, but his fingers couldn't stop trembling slightly.
He lifted it to his lips, draining most of the scalding cider in one go. The rich warmth burned from his throat all the way to his stomach, making his eyes involuntarily well up.
He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as if trying to force down some surging emotion.
"Everything's taken care of here." He roughly wiped his face with the towel, his voice somewhat hoarse. "I'll head back to Sovereign City tomorrow."
Margaret made a sound of acknowledgment. She didn't ask him to stay, didn't ask anything more.
The next morning, Richard packed his things, preparing to leave.
Margaret walked him to his car.
The black Bentley had been cleaned and was parked outside the newly repaired gate. He pulled open the car door, one leg already inside, but his movement suddenly froze.
"Margaret." He turned back, calling her name.
She looked up at him.
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end only managed a smile that looked worse than crying.
"Those orchids... I asked an expert. If we acted quickly enough, they should all survive."
Margaret looked at him, seeing the exhaustion he couldn't quite hide and his careful hopefulness.
After a long silence, just as he was about to give up and close the car door, she suddenly spoke.
"Thank you."
Her voice was soft.
Richard's entire body went rigid.
He whipped around, staring at her intensely, as if confirming he hadn't imagined it.
Her expression remained cool, but those clear eyes no longer held their usual sharpness and distance.
The light in his eyes blazed to life in that instant, startlingly bright.
He wanted to rush over and hold her, wanted to tell her how overjoyed he was. But in the end, he forced down every impulse. He was afraid of scaring her, afraid this hard-won glimmer of hope might be extinguished again by his recklessness.
He just looked at her deeply, then nodded firmly, his throat working as he managed to say, "Take care."
The car started and slowly pulled away.
Margaret stood in place, unmoving.
...
After Richard returned, he seemed like half his soul had been drained away.
His assistant, seeing the dark circles under his eyes and his undisguised exhaustion, was too scared to even breathe loudly.
"Mr. Neville, would you like to rest first? This afternoon's meeting..."
"No need." Richard waved him off and walked straight into his office.
He looked down at the bustling traffic below. All he could hear echoing in his mind was that light "thank you."
Those words made his heart race.
The intercom on his desk rang.
He walked over to answer it. His chief assistant's voice came through, careful: "Mr. Neville, Margaret New Energy Group just called. It was Ms. Kennedy's assistant."
Richard's heart lurched.
"What did she say?"
"It was about confirming details for the second phase of that African base station project cooperation."
The assistant reported quickly. "They proposed some minor technical parameter adjustments, and also... Ms. Kennedy's assistant seemed to mention something casually at the end."
"What did she mention?"
"She said Ms. Kennedy had instructed that for all future projects coordinating with the Neville Group, as long as it doesn't violate principles, the approval process can be appropriately streamlined to improve efficiency."
Richard's grip on the receiver suddenly tightened.
After hanging up, the office fell silent again.
The corners of his mouth, which had been tense all this time, finally couldn't help but turn up bit by bit.
...
Riverbend City's typhoon season passed, ushering in the most brilliant autumn days.
The interview with the top international financial magazine 'Global Vision' was scheduled for just such an afternoon of clear skies and light clouds.
The interview location was in a conference room at Margaret New Energy Group headquarters that overlooked the entire financial district.
Margaret didn't choose to sit in the power seat, but instead sat on the sofa alongside the blonde, blue-eyed veteran reporter. Only a low table separated them, with two cups of clear tea placed on top.
Today she wore a cream-colored cashmere dress with a matching shawl draped over it, her long hair loosely pinned back. She looked gentle and relaxed, forming a stark contrast with the cold forest of steel and glass behind her.
The first half of the interview revolved around the technical prospects of "Dawn 5.0" and Margaret New Energy Group's global expansion.
Margaret's answers were precise and clear, containing both grand industry insights and an accurate grasp of technical details. When she talked about energy conversion rates and smart grids, there was a quiet light in her eyes.
It was the absolute confidence of a creator in her own work.
As the interview neared its end, the reporter closed her notebook and spoke in a more personal tone: "Ms. Kennedy, one final question. We all know that both you and your company have experienced a very... complex past. Now that you're standing here having achieved such success, looking back on your journey, what do you think everything you've experienced ultimately means to you?"
The question was sharp, yet wrapped in respectful packaging.
The conference room fell quiet, with only the soft hum of the air purifier remaining.
Margaret was silent for a moment, meeting the reporter's eyes directly, her expression open and calm.
"They're scars, but they're also armor."