Chapter 3

When Harper arrived at the office, Silas had yet to show up.

She went to her desk first, quietly arranging the remaining tasks that needed to be handled after her departure. Then she slipped the printed resignation letter into a stack of documents that required his signature and sat back down, waiting.

At half past nine, half an hour late, he finally stepped into the office.

Harper's long lashes dipped slightly as she lowered her eyes to the blue folder in her arms. She took a slow, deep breath and walked toward him.

"Silas, these are the documents that need your signature this morning."

Her voice was calm. She leaned forward slightly and placed the folder on his desk, flipping to the appropriate pages as she always did.

"All right," he replied.

When it came to Harper, Silas trusted her completely.

After all, at least half of the company's current success could be traced back to her efforts.

He picked up the pen beside him and began signing with habitual efficiency. His eyes, half-lidded, glanced toward her, and a flicker of admiration passed through his gaze.

"Harper, you look different today. What brought on the change?"

Instead of her usual black tailored suit and heels, she wore a white dress made of light, gauzy fabric. The hem grazed the floor, and she wore flat shoes—an unusual choice for her.

Silas arched a brow. The pen in his hand paused mid-stroke as he tilted his head, a note of surprise in his voice.

"You used to care a lot about appearance, didn't you? All these years—always the black uniform, always heels. What happened today? Got tired of it after all this time?"

Her slightly bent posture stiffened for a moment. The fingers turning the page trembled faintly before curling inward. A faint tension shimmered in her dark pupils. She lifted her hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and smiled without warmth.

"Yeah. I'm tired," she said. Tired of holding on.

In truth, she had always preferred sneakers and sweatshirts. But for him, she had worn the things she disliked most. High heels. Pencil skirts. Years of it.

Now, she had decided to stop.

"To be honest," he said, "I think it's good. You look better in other styles anyway."

If the Harper in her black uniform was a striking red rose, then the Harper today, in her white dress, was a budding white blossom—soft and unguarded.

At the sight of her, fresh and quiet, something shifted in his throat. His voice turned low and hoarse.

"Harper, you look beautiful today."

Beautiful enough to make him want to pin her down and have his way with her, right now.

"Is that so?"

She answered without inflection, eyes fixed on the black pen in his hand. Only when he signed the final stroke on her resignation letter did her heart begin to settle, beating steadily once more.

She'd done it.

Her brows relaxed, and she lightly licked the dry corner of her lips. Without hesitation, she gathered the folder from the desk and pulled it back into her arms.

Even though she knew he trusted her enough never to check the documents carefully, the moment he started signing, she couldn't help but feel tense.

From the day she had joined the company, Silas had made it clear—she was his personal assistant, answerable to no one else.

If she ever wanted to resign, she would need his signature.

Back then, Harper had found his words ridiculous. Why would she ever resign? She had planned to stay by his side, to help grow the company into one of the finest in the world.

But she hadn't expected that, in just a few short years, everything would change. Now, she had to resort to this kind of method just to leave.

"Now that we've finished discussing work," he said, "can we talk about something more personal? I owe you an apology for last night. I should have given you a heads-up. But when Sophie called me, it was an emergency. I had no choice but to bring her and the child home first.

"I know you probably still mind what happened between me and her, but please believe me—there's absolutely nothing between us anymore. The one I love most has always been you.

"She was in a bad situation and turned to me for help. Out of basic human decency, I couldn't ignore her. You understand, don't you? After all, you're always so understanding. To make it up to you, I even queued up this morning to get those walnut pastries from that bakery in Alton City. You should try them while they're still fresh."

He stood up, walked over to the cabinet, took out the pastries, and came to sit beside her. His smile was gentle.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. Harper glanced at the pastries in his hands and gave a faint, cold smile.

He queued up just for her?

What a joke.

Silas didn't even blink when he lied now.

She had already seen Sophie's Twitter post earlier that morning—on the way to work, in fact.

The walnut pastries in the photo were exactly the same as the ones he held.

Her fingers tightened around the folder, turning pale at the knuckles. A wave of nausea swept over her, as though something foul had spread through her veins.

Her chest felt tight. Her complexion paled. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead in layers.

"Harper, what's wrong? You don't look so good. I just explained everything, didn't I? Are you still upset?"

His brows knitted as he looked at her, standing silently with that unreadable expression. He took a deep breath, tried to suppress his irritation, and reached out to pull her into his arms like he usually did.

But the moment his hand touched her arm, he recoiled in surprise.

"Harper, your skin's burning. Are you still running a fever?"

He quickly stood up and reached out to touch her forehead. The heat radiating from her skin startled him. His eyes flashed with concern.

"No, this won't do. You need to get to a hospital immediately."

"I'll be fine with some medicine. I still have things to wrap up." She wrenched her hand out of his and turned away, forcing herself to stay upright.

She didn't need his concern. She just wanted to leave the company as soon as possible.

"You can't just take medicine and hope it goes away. No. You're coming with me to the hospital." He grew anxious, seeing how she staggered with each step, still trying to work.

"I told you, I don't need—"

A dizzy spell hit her, hard. Her back was soaked in cold sweat. Clutching the folder to her chest, she moved toward the door.

"I said you do need it!"

"You're going to listen to me!"

Frustrated by her stubbornness, he suddenly swept her into his arms.

"Put me down…"

She struggled with all the strength she had left.

But she wasn't his match, not in this state. In the end, she could only let him carry her toward the hospital. His touch made her stomach churn.

…

Twenty minutes later, Harper sat outside the emergency room, a thermometer pressed under her tongue.

Beside her, Silas held a paper cup filled with hot water, speaking softly.

"Harper, you're really dehydrated. You need to drink something. Didn't you take fever meds last night? Why is the fever back again today? This is my fault. I should've made sure you took another dose this morning…"

Harper leaned back against the cold wall, eyes shut tight. His murmuring grated on her nerves, and her brows furrowed deeper.

"Uncle Silas!"

A child's voice, tinged with tears, suddenly rang out beside her.

"Henry? What are you doing here? Where's your mom?" Silas's eyes sharpened. He turned instinctively toward the voice.

Henry stood there in a tiny black suit, a blue bow tie under his chin, eyes red and brimming with tears.

Silas's heart gave a sudden lurch. He glanced past the boy, searching the hallway behind him.