NovelEnglishChapter 79
As the pill dissolved in her mouth, Clara leaned wearily against the wall, feeling soft as if she'd just been fished
out of a pool. She wanted to tell Dylan she couldn't cook for him tonight or go out for dinner, but the words
wouldn't come.
Fleeting memories flickered through her mind, reminding her of how she always struggled during this tof the
month. Back then, she would curl up alone on the couch, quietly waiting for the pain to pass. But now, she had
someone by her side.
She felt sweat trickling down her body, pooling in waves. A cool, damp washcloth brushed across her forehead,
and in her weakened state, she instinctively leaned into the comforting chill. Her fingers found Dylan's hand, and
she nestled against his palm, seeking solace.
Dylan held the washcloth, not pulling away. Her face was pale. In her vulnerable state, she was clingy, but once
she recovered, she would becdistant again. His hand slowly opened, cradling half her face. She nuzzled
against his hand for what felt like five long minutes before finally letting go.
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Dylan got up to adjust the air conditioning, but Clara's hand caught his wrist. Her consciousness was already
fading, and her fingertips felt damp against his skin. "I'm not leaving," he reassured her, patting her hand gently.
Only then did Clara release her grip, drifting off to sleep beside him.
Dylan closed the window, leaving the curtains open. Then he turned to find a blanket and gently draped it over
her. Just then, there was a knock at the door. Aiden's voice floated in. "Sir, the meeting starts in half an hour."
He had planned on staying for dinner, but they were running late now. He had an overseas conference call
scheduled for later. "Bring the laptop and the Bluetooth headset in here."
The laptop was set up beside him, and he donned the headset, ready to conduct the meeting right there. Aiden
waited outside the apartment complex in case anything happened. As the meeting began, the overseas
executives noticed Dylan's voice was unusually low, as if he couldn't speak loudly. They strained to hear him, but
no one dared to ask him to speak up.
Midway through the meeting, another knock cat the door. This time, it was Simon, notorious for his brusque
attitude towards Clara. His pounding was loud and insistent. Everyone in the meeting heard it, but no one
commented, pretending nothing had happened.
Dylan's brow furrowed as he heard Simon shouting from outside. "Clara, who said you could switch departments?
Why didn't you run it by me? You're getting out of hand!"
He had thought that putting Clara in a managerial role would make her more compliant, but she had simply left
the department, thwarting his plans. "Clara, you need to explain yourself!"
Dylan picked up his phone and called Simon. "You have swork to sort out at the company."
Simon couldn't believe his ears. It was the first this uncle had called him, especially about work. Though
arrogant, Simon knew it was his family ties that got him a role that required no overtat Ferguson
Corporation. Still, this was a direct order from his uncle, leaving him frustrated. "Uncle Dylan, did you know Clara
switched departments?"
"Yeah, anything else?"
Simon's lips pressed into a thin line, his fist clenching at his side. "I don't want her to leave. Can you make her
cback?"
Dylan's hand stayed on the keyboard. The camera was on, allowing the executives to see his face. His
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmexpression remained calm, though a flicker of disdain passed through his eyes. "If that's all, I'm hanging up."
"Uncle Dylan!" Simon slammed the door in anger, waking Clara. She slowly opened her eyes, propped herself up
on the sofa, and groggily asked, "What was that noise?"
In the conference room, the executives noticed that although Dylan's expression hadn't changed, the
atmosphere seemed to lighten. Had a girl appeared beside him? It was late at night, so it couldn't be a female
employee. Was she the future Mrs. Ferguson?
Dylan turned his head towards Clara, reassuring her, "It's nothing. Go back to sleep." Clara couldn't process
anything else and drifted back into slumber.
She awoke in the middle of the night, finding herself in her bed and her clothes changed. She sat up abruptly,
checking her clothes and pants. The stained clothes were gone.
Was it Dylan? Her cheeks flushed crimson at the thought. Could it be him? She hurried out of the room, but
Dylan was already gone. On the table was a bowl of oatmeal.
Clara felt her whole body heat up, realizing she had been bathed as well. If Dylan had done all this, hadn't he
seen everything? Her scalp tingled at the thought. Would Dylan really do such things? Change her clothes, bathe
her, even...
She paced the room anxiously, eager to ask but too afraid to do so.
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