Chapter 35

Billy found himself almost impressed with Gabriela. She could slice someone apart with words and never so much as ruffle a hair. It was no wonder Wesley had taken notice of her.

Fiona, bolstered by Loretta's promise to back her no matter what, shot back with sharp confidence, "And just who the hell do you think you are, talkingto me like that?"

Gabriela didn't so much as flinch. "You've got it wrong, Ms. Dewitt. I'm only worried about you," she said evenly.

Wesley had obviously planted her here to relish the scene, yet she still played her part, offering a polite veneer of concern.

That crisp white dress hadn't been cheap, and she doubted the coffee stain would ever come out. She was already being gracious by not demanding Fiona replace it. And still, Fiona had the audacity to twist things and act like she was the one being wronged.

"Worried about me?" Fiona's lip curled in a cold sneer."Come on, that fake sympathy might fool a man, but it won't work on me."

A deep, commanding voice cut in from behid Gabriela. "She's my secretary."

Wesley's tall frame loomed suddenly at her back, a solid wall of quiet authority. His gaze slid to Fiona, cool and unreadable. "So, what brings you here, bickering with my employee?"

The shift in Fiona's expression was instant. "Wesley, I'm freezing."

"Then go home and put on more clothes," he replied without the faintest warmth. His expression stayed cold, though his tone carried an edge of politeness. "Shall I have my assistant see you out?"

Billy stepped forward at once, ready to carry out the order without question.

Gabriela, watching from the side, felt a flicker of admiration. Fiona was laying on the helpless act thick-any other man would have been shrugging off his coat for her by now-but Wesley didn't so much as blink.

To a man who measured life in profit and loss, business clearly outweighed sentiment.

The chill in his manner caught Fiona off guard. She had expected even the barest show of tenderness,not this unyielding dismissal. Fighting back sobs, she turned on her heel and left Apex Group, her heels clicking an uneven rhythm on the polished floor.

In the car, she ordered the driver to head straight to Loretta's place. There, she sought out Loretta and spilled every grievance in a rush, her voice breaking with wounded indignation.

Yesterday,Loretta sought out a fortune-teller for Wesley's sake, only to be told that misfortune would shadow him after he turned thirty. The fortune-teller had claimed the only way to ward off the looming hardship was to marry a blessed woman-and Fiona,according to him, fit the bill perfectly.

Now, Loretta held the sobbing Fiona in her arms, murmuring gentle reassurances. She promised not only to stand up for her but also to make Wesley apologize directly to her.

Only after hearing this did Fiona wipe her tears and leave with a sense of satisfaction.

Keeping her word, Loretta wasted no time in calling Wesley. HHer voice was cold, almost cutting, as she ordered him to come over that evening, warning that if he refused, she would cut all ties with him.

The gravity in her tone made it clear she meant every word. Wesley ended his work in haste, grabbed his keys, and drove straight to her place.

Loretta's place was a modest, timeworn bungalow, yet inside it was warm, neat, and surprisingly inviting.Behind the house stretched a neat vegetable garden where Loretta grew her own greens.

This year's pride was a bed of onions, their bulbs plump and ready for harvest.

When Wesley stepped into the yard, he spotted her bent over in the rows, tugging stubbornly at the onions.

From a few steps away, he called out, "Grandma!"

But she didn't look up; she kept yanking up onions, grumbling under her breath. "I planted these onions myself, watered and weeded them all season... and now they've decided to cling to the ground like their lives depend on it."

Wesley could hear the subtext in her words and almost smiled. Rolling up his sleeves, he strolled over and said lightly, "Here-let me give you a hand, Grandma."

"Don't bother." Loretta's eyes narrowed, her voice clipped with disapproval. "You're the high-and-mighty CEO now-how could I possibly tell you what to do? I only asked you to keep Fiona company for a few hours,yet you sent her off in tears before noon. If I let you pull these onions, you'd probably trample half the garden."

She was a plainspoken village woman, stubborn as bedrock and utterly convinced of her own reasoning.Once her mind was set, no argument from the younger generation could sway her.

If Wesley so much as hesitated, she'd decide he'd grown arrogant and give him a tongue-lashing on the spot.

Understanding exactly how she was, Wesley did what he always did-he gave in.

Rolling up his sleeves, he bent to help her tug onions from the soil and, as he worked, offered an explanation. "It was freezing that morning, but Fiona dressed thin just to look good. The company's following orders from above to cut back on heating, and she ended up venting on one of my employees.That's exactly why I told her to leave."

Loretta faltered at his words, torn between her ingrained frugality and her irritation at Fiona's arrogant display.

Wesley pressed on, his tone cool but deliberate.secretary has a master's degree-higher than Fiona's credentials.She treated Fiona with respect, and Fiona repaid her by tossing coffee in her face."

"That was wrong of her," Loretta conceded after a beat. Though she quickly added in Fiona's defense, "But Fiona's a PhD student. How can a master's outrank that?"

Her gaze sharpened, the faint sting of pride creeping in. She suspected Wesley's remark wasn't just about Fiona-it was a subtle jab at her own lack of schooling, a reminder she was only a village woman. "The program Fiona attended overseas was nothing but a finishing school for the rich," Wesley said evenly.

"Aplace where trust fund babies pad their résumés. Here, that kind of degree isn't worth much. But my secretary graduated from Rutherford University-one of the most prestigious schools in the country."

Caught off guard, Loretta said, "I thought PhDs were supposed to be valuable."

"That depends," Wesley countered with a faint scoff. "I should take you out more and let you see the world for yourself. Things aren't always the way people make them sound."

Loretta lapsed into thoughtful silence, and he went on, "My secretary's a top graduate, hardworking, never once at fault. The decision not to use the heating was mine, yet Fiona decided to vent her temper on my secretary. Why? Simply because she has a powerful family name to hide behind."

In just a few lines, Wesley painted a bright, accomplished young woman unfairly targeted by an overbearing socialite.

Loretta's expression softened at once.

Wesley caught the opening. "Fiona didn't just throw a tantrum-she spoke to my secretary with outright disrespect. That's rude."

Loretta let out a sigh. "I thought Fiona was a refined young lady. Who knew she'd behave like this!"

Wesley hid his satisfaction. Her anger toward him faded, along with any thought of pairing him with Fiona.

A woman with that kind of wild, unruly streak could never be a proper bride.

After pacifying Loretta and sharing a warm meal with her, Wesley headed back home.

Fiona, certain Wesley would call to apologize, waited with growing anticipation-but as the hours crept into night, there was still no word from him. To make matters worse, she caught a chill, her nose running and sneezes coming one after another.

The irritation that came with feeling ill only sharpened her temper, and in a fit of impatience, she dialed Loretta's number.

This time, Loretta's tone was far from the doting warmth she'd shown before. She claimed she was getting old and didn't want to meddle in the disputes of the younger generation anymore.

Before hanging up, she even murmured a quiet, "Good luck."

Even with Fiona's difficult nature, Loretta couldn't fully shake the fortune-teller's prophecy-that Fiona was a blessed woman.If Fiona and Wesley did marry, perhaps her sharp edges would wear down over time.

But right now, Fiona burned with anger. Loretta's aloofness stung like a slap.

She'd spent so much effort weaving her way into Wesley's orbit-even paying a fortune-teller to paint the perfect picture of their destined match. And this was all she got in return?

She had no idea Wesley remained oblivious to the depth of her despair, to the way she now questioned her own worth. Even if he knew, he wouldn't have cared.

Back at his own place, Wesley scrolled through his WhatsApp thread with Gabriela, his mood souring with each message.

He had cleared every obstacle for her, laid the ground so she could advance toward him-and yet, she hadn't taken a single step. Not even a simple thank-you.

What a sly little ingrate!