Eve knew she was misunderstood, and she also knew the woman meant well.
It was better to work hard than to explain things. If her work was good, no one would have grounds for gossip.
"I understand. Don't worry."
Joshua Crawford was Stellan Sutton's personal assistant. Besides work, he also handled the president's daily life.
When she left, Joshua handed Eve a notebook packed densely with Stellan Sutton's preferences and taboos, and his daily schedule down to the minute.
In the afternoon, Eve officially took over Joshua's duties. Right on time, she brewed President Sutton's favorite coffee, adding milk and sugar precisely according to Joshua's notes, then brought it in for Stellan.
This time, she didn't look at Stellan Sutton again, but respectfully placed the coffee beside him, then gently turned the cup to adjust the handle to the most convenient angle.
Stellan Sutton was very busy, his eyes lingering on the mountain of documents before him. He replied offhandedly, "Thank you."
His voice was deep and smooth, magnetic, with a hint of detached coldness.
"Wait a moment."
Just as Eve was about to leave, Stellan suddenly looked up and called her back.
Eve swiftly turned around, "Do you have any further instructions?"
Stellan lightly stroked his chin, asking in all seriousness, "In your opinion, what kind of gift would a young woman like?"
Seeing Eve blink, Stellan added, "I asked my male assistant Lucas, but he had no idea. He suggested I ask you."
Eve thoughtfully considered, "If it were me, I'd prefer… money over those flashy, impractical things?"
Money? What a coincidence, he liked money too. Without money, it was impossible to get anything done.
Stellan fell into a contemplative silence.
But... would that stranger of a wife he hadn't seen in two years like money?
The card he gave her back then hadn't had a single transaction alert—not a penny spent.
He had no idea how she was doing now.
Eve didn't intend to pry into her boss's private life, but afraid she might have said something wrong, she probed a little:
"But, are you buying it for…?"
Stellan smiled faintly. "My wife."
Your wife?
So, he was already married.
Ms. Crawford hadn't mentioned that during the handover.
Eve realized her answer had sounded a bit too practical and shallow. She was about to elaborate, but Stellan had already nodded.
"Thank you. Help me make a reservation at a restaurant—for eight tonight."
...
At six thirty, Stellan Sutton asked Lucas to drive him to the appointment, letting Eve leave work early.
Eve dragged her exhausted body back to her small apartment.
Just after opening the door, she was greeted by the scent of flowers.
Zoe Sawyer and her best friend Wyatt Crawford were both holding cake and flowers, standing at the door waiting for her.
"Congrats on your promotion, Eve!"
"Congratulations, babe!"
Eve's fatigue was swept away by their boundless energy.
Living with friends had its perks.
When she was tired or drained, they were like chargers—her energy instantly restored.
Eve accepted the flowers and blew out the candles on the cake. "Thank you."
"Crawford cooked himself today! Everything is your favorite!"
Zoe dragged her to the table and hadn't even settled before blurting out, "So? Is your boss easy to get along with? Logically, they like hiring stable, married people—picking someone young like you, not a creep, right?"
Eve shook her head. "Nope. He's got the looks, the height, the temperament—nothing to pick on. Plus, he's married, and very much in love—I just made them a dinner reservation! Don't worry!"
Zoe finally relaxed. "Good. Working for a boss is like living with a tiger. I was worried you'd get stuck with some weirdo like last time…"
"Alright, that's enough."
Wyatt noticed Eve's eyes dim, so he quickly interrupted Zoe, busily serving Eve. "Babe, try this—has my cooking improved? With skills like these, can I land a boyfriend soon?"
"Oh please, get close to a man and you'll just invite bad luck!"
Zoe patted his shoulder. "Once you've got money, you'll have everything. Men will come running! We have to work like cows, then party like lunatics!"
Wyatt giggled, covering his mouth. "Aren't I trying already? I'm negotiating a huge project right now. Once it goes through, our studio might finally get famous! If I get rich, I'm opening my own restaurant!"
Zoe's eyes shone. "I want to open a stationery shop! And buy a city apartment for my brother, so he'll never bother me again—how awesome would that be!"
Watching them so happy, Eve propped her chin on her hand and laughed along with them.
...
Restaurant.
Stellan Sutton sat at the long table, in front of him several bank cards, a bouquet of red roses, and a gemstone necklace he'd bought at a foreign auction.
He hesitated, asking Lucas, "Will she like these gifts?"
Lucas nodded enthusiastically. "Forget women—even I'd be thrilled!"
"Alright."
Back then, in order to fulfill his grandfather's promise, he'd rushed through the wedding and flown abroad to handle company business the same afternoon—gone two years straight.
With work and time differences, he'd never contacted his wife.
She didn't reach out either, probably mad at him.
He'd left her alone for two years. He really was an unfit husband; she had every right to be angry.
This time, he just wanted to make up for it. If she was willing, he hoped to make things work. If his grandfather was happy, and he didn't have to get divorced, everyone would win.
With everything ready, he took out his phone, found her iMessage, and called her with a voice message.
It rang for a long time with no answer.
Just as he was about to hang up, someone finally picked up.
A man's voice answered.
"Who's this?"
Stellan's grip tightened on his phone, his brows furrowing deeply.
He double-checked—yes, this was definitely her iMessage.
"She's in the shower, hang on a sec."
The man's footsteps rustled. "Babe, you got a call!"
A woman's voice, mixed with the shower's pattering, stung Stellan's ears: "Who is it?"
"No idea. You didn't save their name. Did they call the wrong number, babe?"
"It's fine. This is just my work account—don't worry."
"Alright, babe."
Stellan couldn't stand their endless "babe"-ing and hung up immediately.