Chapter 6

On the other side, at a high-end apartment in the city center.

Percival escorted Yvaine all the way home.

The moment the apartment door closed, Yvaine couldn't wait to turn around and throw herself into Percival's arms like a frightened little deer, her hands tightly circling his lean waist.

"Percival, thank you for tonight. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have known what to do." Yvaine looked up, her dewy eyes pitifully gazing at him. A faint scent of lily perfume wafted from her—sweet and demure.

She stood on tiptoe, red lips parting slightly, tentatively trying to kiss his mouth.

Percival looked down at the delicate woman in his arms, but for some reason, as Yvaine drew closer, his body instinctively recoiled.

Unbidden, images from the bar lounge earlier flashed through his mind.

Florence in that provocative wine-red slip dress, lounging lazily on the sofa, red lips biting a cherry, her gaze smoldering with allure.

And in the car—when he'd forced that kiss on her—the soft, sweet sensation, the tempting flush spreading across her skin.

That boldness. That fiery figure. Like a flame, burning him with irritation now, leaving him inexplicably parched.

"Percival?" Seeing him distracted, Yvaine called softly, a hint of grievance in her voice. She pressed herself closer. "Tonight... don't leave, okay? I'm still scared being alone."

Her hint was obvious enough. If he agreed, they could naturally let things happen tonight.

A flash of irritation crossed Percival's eyes.

He raised his hand, gripping Yvaine's shoulders and subtly pushing her out of his embrace, creating distance between them.

"There's still an international video conference at the company." Percival's voice was low, carrying a barely perceptible detachment. "You've had a scare tonight. Take a bath and get some rest. I'll come see you tomorrow."

Yvaine's smile froze instantly.

She stared at Percival in disbelief, her nails digging deep into her palms.

Before, whenever she acted even slightly coquettish, Percival would stay with her no matter how busy he was—even if just to sleep in the guest room.

But today, he refused her!

Was it because of that bitch Florence?

Jealousy gnawed at Yvaine's heart like a venomous snake, but she knew Percival's temperament well. This was not the time to make a scene.

She quickly suppressed the unwillingness in her eyes and put on an understanding, docile expression, reaching up to smooth his slightly wrinkled shirt collar.

"Okay, work comes first. Don't overwork yourself, Percival. Take care of your health." Yvaine spoke softly, as if the awkwardness moments ago had never existed.

Percival's expression eased slightly. He nodded and turned to leave.

"By the way, Percival." Yvaine suddenly called out to him, as if remembering something important. A calculating gleam flashed in her eyes. "That top international medical professor I had someone contact—he's returning to the country tomorrow. I heard he's an absolute authority on novel disease cases."

She paused, her tone hopeful. "Tomorrow, could you spare some time to come with me to meet this professor?"

Percival nodded. "Okay."

Silverline Hospital, National-Level Independent Laboratory.

Morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting mottled shadows on the floor. Florence sat before a high-powered microscope, intently observing the cellular fluid mutations in the slide.

She recorded the last set of data, capped her pen, and let out a long breath.

"Professor Coleman, I've rebuilt the model for the targeted molecular structure of this rare disease case. With two more clinical simulations, we should be able to finalize the treatment plan." Florence handed a thick stack of data reports to Flynn beside her.

Flynn flipped through a few pages, his previously stern face revealing undisguised admiration and relief.

"Excellent! Truly excellent! Florence, I knew it—as long as you came back, the medical world would be shaken by you again sooner or later." Flynn's eyes misted slightly. "These three years have been such a waste of talent!"

Florence lowered her gaze, a faint, relieved smile tugging at her lips.

Three years wasted—but thankfully, her instincts and skill remained.

When she put on this white coat again, the Mrs. Churchill who'd humbled herself into the dust for love was already dead. What remained was Florence, the genius doctor.

"Professor Coleman, I'll head back now. I'll come in tomorrow morning to follow up on the simulation results." Florence removed her white coat and hung it on the rack, slipping into a well-tailored khaki trench coat.

She casually pinned her seaweed-like long curls behind her head. Without makeup, her fair face radiated a cool, confident brilliance.

Pushing open the heavy glass door of the lab, the corridor was filled with the faint scent of disinfectant.

Florence had just reached the elevator when the doors dinged open.

Seeing who stepped out, Florence's steps faltered slightly.

Just her luck.

Percival stood tall in a sleek black bespoke suit, his features sharp and cold.

Beside him stood Yvaine, dressed in a pure white dress, looking so fragile a breeze might topple her.

The moment their eyes met, the air seemed to freeze.

Percival's unfathomable gaze contracted sharply.

Seeing Florence's transformed demeanor before him, his mind uncontrollably flashed back to her sultry appearance at the bar last night, and that deep kiss in the car—tinged with blood and fruity wine. An inexplicable irritation surged through him again.

Yvaine clearly hadn't expected to run into Florence here either.

She froze for a moment, then fixed her gaze on Florence's makeup-free face—still stunningly beautiful—a flash of jealousy flickering through her eyes.

But quickly, Yvaine replaced it with a look of surprise and grievance, speaking softly. "Ms. Wipere? What are you doing here? Don't tell me... you followed Percival all the way here?"

One sentence, directly painting Florence as a clingy stalker.

Seeing Florence remain silent, Yvaine sighed, adopting a tone of earnest concern. "Ms. Wipere, I know you're upset because Percival didn't stay with you last night, but no matter how angry you are, you shouldn't use your status as Mrs. Churchill to spread nonsense to the media."

She deliberately paused, her eyes filled with disdain and pain. "And last night—that seedy bar full of shady men—how could you go to a place like that? Don't you realize that by causing trouble everywhere under the Churchill name, the whole circle is laughing at the Churchill family? Aren't you just embarrassing Percival?"