Chapter 5

The air went dead silent for a beat. Sylvie's ears burned with embarrassment as she met Elliott's icy gaze across the table.

"Please don't get the wrong idea," she blurted. "I didn't dump my ex just to take this gig. I broke up with him first, and only after that did I find out you were looking for someone to marry on paper. Do you… believe me?"

She watched him nervously. It was only her first day on the job. The last thing she wanted was for her boss to think she was some gold digger who ditched her boyfriend the second money came knocking.

Elliott's face stayed impassive as he stirred his soup. He said indifferently, "Go on."

"What?" Sylvie blinked.

Elliott's brows knit together, and a flash of impatience glinted in his eyes. It seemed he hated repeating himself.

"Play the voice message to the end." His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a kind of pressure that made it clear there was no room for argument.

Sylvie swallowed hard, her heart leaping to her throat. She knew all too well just how sharp-tongued Noelle could get. All she could do now was pray that Noelle hadn't said anything more outrageous.

Bracing herself, she tapped on the voice message again.

"Look at this bastard! Right after breaking up with you, he's out wining and dining another woman. If that's not a seamless transition, I don't know what is. God, I'm so pissed! I went over to him just now and hinted that I'd tell you he was here having dinner with some other chick. You know what that jerk said?

"He actually claimed he's just having a business dinner and that you're the one who refuses to believe him! He even had the nerve to tell me that he was sick of having to explain himself to you every time and that he wasn't gonna do it anymore!

"The second I turned away, I heard that woman ask him why he told you he was at a work dinner when they were clearly on a date. Syl, I fully support you in dumping him. Good-looking guys are totally unreliable. They're all born players!"

The voice message ended, and the dining room was so quiet that even their breathing sounded loud.

Sylvie's phone buzzed again. A second voice message popped up on the screen.

She instinctively glanced up at Elliott. He was already looking at her, a hint of icy amusement in his eyes, as if telling her to keep going.

She had no choice but to hit play.

"You two were together for so long, Syl. You must be devastated. I'll get off work earlier today so I can head over and keep you company tonight."

Sylvie held down the voice button and replied in an even tone, "I'm not upset. You don't have to come."

She genuinely wasn't upset anymore. Why would a man who'd lied to her for five whole years be worth being sad over?

All she felt was regret. Her five years of devotion had been wasted, and all her hard-earned money had gone down the drain.

Right now, she only cared about one thing—doing her current job well and getting paid what she deserved.

Elliott suddenly set his spoon down.

Sylvie's heart lurched. She looked up at him.

"I don't like the people around me having messy love lives." He leaned back in his chair, his face as cold as ice. "You can go now."

Panic shot through Sylvie. She shot to her feet and cried, "Mr. Quinton, please wait!"

She stared at him anxiously, her mind racing. "I admit what just happened was really awkward, but I've cut all ties with my ex. I won't let him interfere with our arrangement. Besides, you're not just looking for a wife on paper—you need someone who can care for you around the clock.

"I know medicine and acupuncture, and I'm good at physical conditioning. I can also cook. I can keep your life running like a well-oiled machine.

"Compared to other women who have hidden agendas, I'm just here to do what I'm being paid for. I won't cling to you, and I won't cause you any trouble. Do you think there's anyone in Whithaven more suitable and more cost-effective than me?"

She squared her shoulders, determination and sincerity written all over her face. "Mr. Quinton, please give me another chance. I swear there won't be a repeat of what happened today."

Elliott didn't immediately respond. His gaze lingered on Sylvie for a long time, his dark, frosty eyes giving nothing away.

Being stared at like that made her back go rigid. At some point, her palms had already turned clammy with sweat.

After a long moment of silence, Elliott finally looked away and picked up his spoon again. "I'll give you three more days. If I'm not satisfied with your performance, then you're packing your things and leaving immediately."

His voice was still cool and flat, but it felt like a last-minute reprieve to Sylvie.

"Thank you, Mr. Quinton. I promise I'll do my best!" She nodded hard, a bit of color finally returning to her cheeks.

Elliott ignored her, taking his time to finish his food. The truth was, he hated hassle, and he hated it even more when the people around him had messy, tangled dating histories.

But he couldn't deny that the simple, light dishes Sylvie had cooked really hit the spot. He'd always had a sensitive stomach; most of the time, eating felt like a chore. But that day was a rare day when he actually felt comfortable.

He polished off his plate, even eating more than half of the sauteed zucchini. After setting down his cutlery, he rose from his seat and gave Sylvie a brief, imperious glance before turning and heading toward his study.

Sylvie didn't let out the breath she'd been holding until his figure disappeared at the end of the hallway. She collapsed into her chair and only then realized that a sheen of sweat had formed on her back.

The pressure was insane. Just being in the same room as Elliott made breathing feel like a test of courage.

Not daring to dawdle, she finished the rest of her food in a few quick bites, then started clearing the table at lightning speed.

She knew exactly where she stood. There was no way out; the only option was forward. If she wanted to hang on to this high-paying job, she had to prove she was irreplaceable.

There was a saying that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. She had zero interest in winning Elliott's heart, of course. She just wanted to stay and keep her paycheck.

After rummaging through the fridge, Sylvie decided to cook a pot of wild mushroom chicken soup that afternoon. She picked out a few gentle, stomach-soothing herbs from her stash, rinsed them clean, and stuffed the chicken with them.

The soup slowly simmered on the stove. Before long, an incredible aroma filled the kitchen. It was the perfect blend of medicinal fragrance and rich broth—mouthwateringly good instead of jarring.

Elliott stepped out of his study at 6:00 pm. The soup and three other dishes were already set out on the dining table. The soup was in a large white bowl, the broth a clear golden color with only the barest shimmer of oil on the surface.

He took his seat and arched a brow. Normally, he seldom touched something as high-calorie and greasy as chicken soup so he could keep his physique in check.

"I skimmed the fat off with herbs, Mr. Quinton. The soup is easy on the stomach and good for digestion. I promise you it's not a grease bomb," Sylvie said, a little on edge as she stood by the table.

Elliott picked up his spoon and took a sip. The moment the broth hit his tongue, his hand paused. It was incredibly flavorful—none of the usual sticky, cloying feel he associated with chicken soup. All he tasted was a faint, clean note of herbs, sliding smoothly down his throat, leaving him warm.

He didn't say anything. He simply finished that small bowl in silence. Then, he had a second.

Sylvie watched him, feeling the tight knot in her chest loosen.

After dinner, Elliott stood in the living room for a moment, then disappeared into the gym.

Once she finished cleaning the kitchen, Sylvie stared at the closed gym door and bit down on her lip. She couldn't afford to just sit on her hands.

Finn had mentioned she wasn't allowed in certain rooms, but she was still "on probation". She had to take the initiative.

She went to the kitchen and got a glass of water. Then, she grabbed a clean towel and dutifully stationed herself outside the gym door.

After standing there for over two hours, she felt her legs starting to ache. She rubbed at her knees, ultimately squatting down when she really couldn't take it anymore.

Her high bun had come a little undone, a few loose strands sticking to her cheeks and making her look a little pitiful.

Just then, the door swung open from the inside without warning.

Sylvie was startled and scrambled to her feet, but she moved too quickly. A wave of dizziness caused by low blood sugar crashed over her, making her vision go dark for a split second. She pitched forward involuntarily.