Chapter 6 Watching Them Act

A week later, at the Smith Group.

Emily stepped out of the elevator, feeling completely out of place.

When they first got married, she came to the Smith Group as James's wife, escorted to the top floor with people fawning all around her. She couldn't remember when exactly it started, but James told her to keep a low profile. After that, no one greeted her anymore when she came and went. She wore a temporary visitor badge on her chest, looking like an intern coming for a job interview.

James was used to the coffee she made. He arranged a workstation for her at the company, gave her an idle position as special assistant, and had her make hand-poured coffee for him and do some basic office work.

Compared to being James's wife, she really was more like a useful employee.

Lost in these memories, Emily turned a corner and saw a group of people walking toward her.

The man leading them wore a custom-tailored suit without a single wrinkle, had a model-like figure—it was James. Several company executives surrounded him, their faces showing just the right amount of respect.

James's gaze swept over like a searchlight, landed on her, and paused for just a blink. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.

"You're back?"

His tone was like he was asking an ordinary employee returning from a business trip—or even less than that. More like asking why a potted plant in the lobby that had been moved was now back in its original spot.

Emily looked up, meeting his gaze, and replied.

"Yes."

No explanation, no extra words. Just as casual as his question, her answer was equally casual.

James assumed she'd finished her act and finally come crawling back. He didn't spare her another glance, and with his group of executives, turned and entered the CEO's private elevator that required a special card to operate.

The elevator doors closed silently, reflecting Emily's blurred figure.

She walked expressionless to her workstation and began sorting through the last few documents that needed to be handed over. She was here to process her resignation. Once she finished today, she'd have nothing more to do with this place, or with this man.

"Emily."

A voice came from beside her. Indigo, the administrative assistant from the CEO's office, came over right on cue. He placed a sealed black canister on her desk and tapped the surface with his knuckles.

"Mr. Smith wants coffee, hand-poured. You know the drill."

Indigo's tone was like ordering around his own household servant, completely matter-of-fact. Everyone in the CEO's office knew Emily was incredibly skilled at making coffee. James had such a picky palate—in the entire company, only the coffee she made didn't make him frown.

For this, she had once locked herself at home, bought every coffee-making device she could find on the market, and practiced no less than a thousand times—from the coarseness of the grind, to controlling the water temperature to the exact degree, to the speed of the water flow when brewing. The burns from hot water on her hands—new blisters appeared before the old ones had healed.

Thinking about it now, that dedication was fucking ridiculous.

Emily sat in her chair, didn't move, didn't even lift her eyelids.

Indigo waited a few seconds. Seeing no response, his voice rose with irritation: "What are you spacing out for? Don't you understand what I'm saying?"

Only then did Emily slowly raise her head, her eyes calm as stagnant water, looking at him: "Indigo, I remember making coffee is part of your job responsibilities, isn't it?"

"You!" Indigo's face flushed red instantly. He probably didn't expect Emily to dare speak to him like this. She glanced at the colleagues around them with their ears perked up. Not wanting to make a scene, he could only lower his voice to a harsh whisper: "Emily, don't push it. Mr. Smith specifically asked for you—he's giving you a chance. Do you understand?"

Emily couldn't be bothered to waste more words on him. She lowered her head and continued organizing the documents in her hands, treating him like air.

About five minutes later, Indigo came back, his face extremely dark. Behind him was a woman in a white suit and high heels—it was Sophia.

"Emily, Mr. Smith wants to see you." Indigo's tone was ice-cold.

Emily put down what she was holding and stood up. When she walked into the CEO's office, the door wasn't fully closed—there was a crack.

Sophia was sitting brazenly on James's lap, her slender white arms wrapped around his neck. Her fingers held a ripe cherry, laughing as she fed it to his lips, her movements as intimate as if they were in their own bedroom.

The whole scene was both suggestive and glaring.

When James saw her enter, his gaze instantly turned cold, like a frozen lake: "Who told you to come in?"

Before Emily could speak, Indigo, who had followed her in, jumped to speak first, his tone urgent and angry, as if Emily had committed some heinous crime: "Emily, what's wrong with you! Don't you know to knock before entering Mr. Smith's office? That's the most basic rule! Disturbing Mr. Smith and Ms. Brown—can you take responsibility for this?"

Only then did Sophia slowly get off James's lap, smoothing out her skirt like a considerate hostess. She walked up to Emily, her voice soft and gentle: "Emily, don't be nervous. James is just serious when he's working."

As she spoke, she reached out to take a cup of water Emily had just brought in from outside. Whether intentionally or accidentally, her elbow hit the tray.

The water in the cup was still scalding hot. More than half of it spilled directly onto the back of Emily's hand holding the tray.

Her skin felt like it had been branded with a hot iron, instantly turning bright red over a large area, burning with pain.

Emily gasped from the pain.

Sophia let out an exaggerated cry and jumped back a step, as if she was the one who got burned. "Emily, are you okay? Look at me, I'm so careless. I'm so sorry."

Her mouth said sorry, but her eyes showed no remorse whatsoever.

James's gaze swept over Emily's reddened hand, lingering for less than a second. His face showed no expression, and the words that came out of his mouth were colder than the office air conditioning: "Clumsy. Do this again, and get out immediately."

Not a word of concern, only warning and disgust.

Emily raised her head. The pain made fine beads of sweat appear on her forehead, but she still looked straight at James.

The impatience and irritation in his eyes were crystal clear, like a rusty dull knife, cutting at her heart over and over.

She suddenly smiled.

Fine.

Without saying a word, she set the tray on a nearby table, turned around, and walked out of the office, heading straight to the restroom.

Ice-cold tap water rushed over the back of her hand, the bone-chilling coolness temporarily suppressing the burning pain. She looked at her pale face in the mirror. Only she knew that somewhere in her heart, that tiny bit of hope she'd been holding onto, had just been completely scalded to death by that cup of hot water.

In the restroom, a few colleagues were whispering with their heads together.

"That Sophia is so beautiful, isn't she?"

"You don't know yet? I heard their good news is coming soon. Sophia might become James's wife."

These words burrowed into Emily's ears like a virus.

Emily didn't interrupt or explain anything. There was no point anymore.

When Emily came out of the restroom, she saw Sophia "inspecting" the company, accompanied by several senior executives.

The group passed through the corridor of the open office area in a grand procession. Emily wanted to ignore them and quickly return to her workstation to get her things.

But a vice president from the marketing department pointed at her, his face stern, shooing her away like a fly: "Hey you, what are you standing there for? Don't you see Ms. Brown coming? Move out of the way!"