Chapter 2: The Man From Last Night Was Actually HIM?!

Emma didn’t allow herself to break down until she’d left the café.

She’d held herself together, refused to shed a single tear in front of that contemptible bastard.

Four years of relationship.

The man who’d once promised to cherish her for eternity had bartered her like she was nothing more than merchandise.

An adult’s emotional collapse can happen in the span of a heartbeat. After releasing all her anguish, Emma wiped her face with trembling hands and caught a taxi home.

Her first priority upon arriving was drawing a hot bath.

It wasn’t until the scalding water enveloped her body that Emma finally began to decompress, but when she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, she couldn’t help but flush crimson.

Her neck, shoulders, and chest were decorated with countless passionate marks, and even her thighs bore testament to the previous night’s intensity.

The evidence was unmistakable, and the steam from the bath only made the marks more pronounced and visible.

She’d always had delicate, sensitive skin that bruised easily, but last night, this mysterious man had been utterly uninhibited in his claims upon her body.

What made it even more mortifying was that she remembered pressing herself against him, actively participating, even through the haze of intoxication.

Fortunately, it was just a single night of passion. They’d likely never cross paths again.

Fortunately, he’d taken precautions.

She’d spotted the evidence scattered on the floor when retrieving her clothes that morning.

Four of them, discarded carelessly.

Emma’s face burned with molten embarrassment, and she forced herself to stop dwelling on the feverish madness of last night.

If she was being honest with herself, although James had shoved her into an abyss…

By some merciful stroke of fate, she’d entered the wrong suite. At least the man wasn’t some disgusting, lecherous creature like President Richardson.

As for that stranger…

With a man as devastatingly attractive as him, all things considered, she certainly hadn’t come out the loser in this unexpected encounter…

Emma pressed her burning face into her palms, desperately trying to suppress these chaotic, dangerous thoughts.

I’ve made my decision.

Starting today, this night never happened. I’m erasing it from my mind completely.

After bathing, exhaustion crashed over her like a tidal wave. She managed to consume a few bites of food before surrendering to sleep.

She slept straight through until just after 8 p.m.

Emma was awakened by hunger pangs—and a noticeable, persistent ache in her lower abdomen.

Despite her rest, she felt even more uncomfortable and aware of her body’s condition.

She padded into the bathroom to assess the situation and discovered she’d sustained mild injury.

There was only one solution: she needed to venture out and purchase appropriate medication.

At the pharmacy till, her mortification was so acute that she specifically requested the cashier place her purchase in a black plastic bag.

After leaving the pharmacy, she ducked into a nearby corner shop to grab a rice ball and have it heated up.

While waiting for her food, her gaze drifted absently across the street—and suddenly froze.

A sleek black Maybach was parked at the far end of the residential street.

What on earth is a luxury Maybach doing in a neighborhood like this?

Emma glanced at it several more times, but ultimately thought nothing of it.

Perhaps they’re in the area on business, she reasoned.

However, moments after Emma left the convenience store, the Maybach suddenly came to life as well.

As the vehicle glided past her, the rear window descended smoothly.

Emma cast a casual glance toward it, and her heart performed an acrobatic leap.

The contours of that face…

Why does he look vaguely familiar? Isn’t that similar to the man from this morning?

When she attempted to look more closely, the car had already rounded the corner and vanished from sight entirely.

That’s impossible…

Emma paused mid-step, then vigorously shook her head.

There was absolutely no way it could be such a staggering coincidence. She must have been seeing things, allowing her guilty conscience to play tricks on her imagination.

Yet perhaps because of her lingering guilt, her heart continued its frantic pounding long after that fleeting glimpse.

When she arrived home and applied the medicinal ointment, the cool balm against her sensitized skin involuntarily summoned vivid flashbacks from last night.

After completing the application, her entire face felt incandescent, and a thin sheen of perspiration covered her back.

Monday Morning

The alarm shattered the silence. Emma rose, completed her morning ablutions, dressed professionally, and headed toward the office.

Sinclair Empire Group Headquarters

This towering structure occupied the most prestigious location in Central London, and the mere fact that the Sinclair Empire Group owned the entire building spoke volumes about its phenomenal wealth, influence, and status.

The employee screening process was notoriously rigorous and competitive.

Emma held a master’s degree from Cambridge University, and her credentials were undeniably impressive, yet even that wasn’t sufficient to make her stand out amongst the elite talent at Sinclair Empire.

Currently, she occupied the modest position of ordinary business analyst in the corporate development department, having only recently achieved permanent status.

Emma treasured this employment with fierce devotion.

Love had evaporated, her scoundrel of a boyfriend was history, and only this steady salary could truly sustain her independent life.

She’d purchased a modest apartment in Southwark, though it hadn’t yet been handed over to her. She was already making monthly mortgage payments, a commitment she refused to abandon.

Emma possessed an exceptional reputation for punctuality, and she’d arrived remarkably early this particular morning.

While waiting for the lift, she encountered Charlotte Hayes, a colleague from her own department.

Emma greeted her warmly: “Good morning, Charlotte.”

“Emma, you’re in early too!” Charlotte had always held Emma in high regard—she was industrious, possessed strong analytical skills, and maintained an enviable demeanor of gentleness and generosity.

The lift hadn’t yet arrived, so the two women continued their conversation.

Emma inquired, “Why are you up so early today as well?”

Upon hearing this question, Charlotte responded with surprise, “Don’t you remember? Didn’t Mr. Foster mention this last week?”

“The new group president is arriving today. This morning, Managing Director Sterling will likely conduct him on a comprehensive tour of all departments. We’re required to arrive early.”

Emma’s memory suddenly crystallized.

Oh goodness, that’s right.

Mr. Foster did mention this last week.

It was said that the newly appointed president was a man of considerable influence and prominence.

Sinclair Empire Group represented the most elite family dynasty in London—the prestigious Sinclair family.

The newly appointed president was none other than Alexander Sinclair, the eldest grandson of the Sinclair family dynasty.

She’d heard that Grandfather Sinclair held this particular grandson in extraordinarily high regard, having taken him under his protective wing and personally mentored him since childhood. Following his fifteenth birthday, Alexander had been dispatched abroad, subsequently graduating from the world’s most elite educational institutions.

At merely twenty-five years of age, when the Sinclair family business empire had been threatened by a devastating scandal that jeopardized the entire corporation, Alexander Sinclair had single-handedly revitalized multiple failing Sinclair ventures that teetered on the precipice of complete collapse. Overnight, he’d become a legendary figure within business circles.

He was truly the stuff of modern corporate legend.

Charlotte teased with an impish smile, “I heard our young master isn’t merely powerful—he’s also devastatingly handsome and completely unattached. I’m already married, so I concede the playing field to you unmarried girls. You might actually have a genuine chance.”

Emma smiled politely but offered no response.

She harbored at most a curious intellectual interest in this mysterious figure perched at the apex of the corporate pyramid, but nothing beyond that.

Alexander Sinclair’s world existed in an entirely different stratosphere from her own humble existence. She’d only heard tales of his remarkable achievements; she’d never even glimpsed a photograph of him.

It’s highly improbable we’d encounter each other with any regularity at the company.

The lift doors slid open, and both women stepped inside.

Just as the doors began their descent, Emma suddenly heard someone outside call out urgently, “Hold the lift, please!”

Instinctively, Emma pressed the button to reopen the doors.

“Thank you,” came the grateful reply.

Immediately thereafter, a man in an immaculately tailored suit stepped into the lift, displacing Emma from her previous position near the control panel. He maintained the door open with practiced efficiency.

Emma retreated a step backward.

The suited man then addressed the individual entering behind him: “President Sinclair, the executive private lift experienced a malfunction last evening and requires repairs. It remains temporarily unavailable, but is expected to be operational by 8:30 a.m. Please utilize the general staff lift for now.”

President Sinclair? The executive lift?

Emma and Charlotte exchanged shocked glances.

Is this the newly appointed president?

Before either woman could formulate a response, a striking tall figure gradually materialized in the lift’s entrance.

Simultaneously, an intoxicating fragrance materialized in the air—crisp, refined, with notes of cool woody cologne.

His visage was elegant and arrestingly handsome, with sculpted, sharply defined features, yet his expression carried an unmistakable aura of detachment and aristocratic aloofness.

Emma’s gaze locked onto that face, and she became entirely immobilized, her eyes dilating with profound shock and recognition.

It was him?!

How could it possibly be him?!

The man from that night…

He was actually Alexander Sinclair, the corporation’s newly appointed president?!

The world seemed to tilt dangerously beneath her feet.