Semua Bab Contract Over: You're Free to Go: Bab 171 - Bab 180

As a mouthful of warm soup slid down Silas' throat, the sharp cramps in his stomach were instantly enveloped by a gentle, soothing warmth that greatly relieved his physical discomfort.He looked down at the perfectly smooth puree.This wasn't the kind of meal a kitchen novice could throw together in just half an hour. The roasting had to be timed precisely to caramelize the flesh without burning it, and achieving such a smooth texture required immense patience.He suddenly remembered Teresa's frantic, awkward hands as she stood before his desk a few hours ago. He recalled the blisters on the knuckle of her index finger and band-aid taped across the back of her hand.As the CEO of hundreds of employees at TRS Group, who signed multi-million-dollar contracts with Montblanc pens, how many clumsy attempts had she tried in the kitchen? How many times had she nicked her fingers or gotten burned by scalding oil, just to simmer a bowl of soup so light and tailored to his palate?Silas s

Teresa was stubbornly carrying a thermal bag, though today it was swapped for a navy blue one.She didn't head upstairs right away. Instead, her gaze swept past the spacious lobby before landing squarely on the solid wood coffee table in the lounge. Sitting neatly on it was the pink-and-blue cartoon bag.Here breathing caught slightly. She slowed her pace as she walked over, her heart pounding hard against her ribs.She had no idea what kind of verdict awaited in that bag, whether she would find untouched, cold soup that was now spoiled, or an unwashed container that had its contents dumped out.Taking a deep breath, she reached for the zipper with cold-stiffened fingers and pulled the zipper. With a soft pop, she opened the lid of the container.It was completely empty.Not only was it empty, but it had obviously been washed inside and out with warm water and dish soap. Wiped spotlessly clean without a trace of grease or water stains, the stainless steel inner walls gleamed unde

For Sil Studio's first week in the Meliere Art District, comparing its hecticness to that of a nonstop pressure cooker would be an understatement.Avery's client filter system was strict to a near psychotic fault. The wealthy wannabes who showed up with a hundred-thousand-dollar budget demanding a rich, palace aesthetic were escorted out with a barrage of polite yet brutally sarcastic professional jargon.The clients she retained had premium projects, like the mountain boutique inn and an independent avant-garde art gallery, with excellent taste and budgets to match.Silas practically lived behind his second-floor wooden desk this week. He had to lock down the exact lighting arrays and structural finishes for the mountain inn while meeting the gallery owner's fastidious demands regarding traffic flow.But compared to these brain-draining technical challenges, what truly threw off the studio's cool, professional atmosphere was the doorbell that rang at 3:00 pm every day. It was now

Silas leaned back in his chair like a puppet whose strings had been cut off and fell silent for two long minutes."I don't know," he finally said in a hoarse voice.It was the honest truth. He didn't know what kind of twisted mindset he was trapped in right now.He hated Teresa for three years of her arrogance and indifference. But now, watching her humble herself and desperately try to warm his heart again changed everything—he realized with absolute despair that he couldn't be truly indifferent to her.He couldn't deny the fact that he had once loved Teresa with everything he had.Avery's expression changed when she heard his three-word reply. If Silas had said, "I'll never forgive her" or "I'm planning to give her a chance", she would at least have known what his stance was. But the ambiguous "I don't know" felt like a fatal dud."You don't know?"She let out a cold laugh and continued in a sharp, biting tone, "You're a 30-year-old man, Silas, not some clueless, naive colle

With no one else around and no need to maintain her strong, iron-willed careerwoman persona, Avery knew the answer to her question was glaringly obvious.She admired Silas—or rather, it was more than just admiration.From the first time she came across a few of his sketches tucked away in an unnoticed corner of the PrimePrint platform, she knew his soul was different from the assembly-line designers out there.There was a warmth in his work that was almost extinct these days. He also had a tough backbone and would rather draw blueprints at an internet cafe than give in and accept trashy, low-grade gigs.In an industry where people were always lowering their standards for fame and fortune, Silas was frighteningly clear-headed and lethally charming.Avery had decisively resigned from her role as a director and walked away from lucrative pay to join his business as a fellow partner.On the surface, she told investors, "I see great commercial potential in him. It's a guaranteed high-