Chapter 6

Seraphina let out a soft laugh, still leaning against the doorframe like a flexible little cat.

"Why, is Mr. Sterling concerned about my guest?"

Fleeting emotions are always difficult to capture, especially within Rhett's eyes.

Seraphina always felt as though she was merely flattering herself.

The man simply curved his captivating eyes, speaking with absolute politeness, "I am merely afraid of disturbing you."

"Ah," Seraphina drawn out her final syllable, adding a hint of inexplicable playfulness, "And here I thought it was genuine concern."

Concern for what?

Was it for the guest, or for her?

The fog hovering above this hazy ocean surface always invited countless calculations.

"Seraphina?"

Julian was drying his hair with a bath towel as he walked out from the living area. The exact moment his eyes landed on Rhett, he instantly wished the ground would swallow him whole.

Was there anything more awkward than being caught red-handed by a friend while staying at a woman's apartment in the dead of night?

This bizarre standoff caused Julian to shudder involuntarily.

Rhett turned his gaze toward Seraphina, smiling faintly. "Now, I am a bit concerned."

"Wait, do not misunderstand under any circumstances!" Julian rapidly summarized the sequence of events. "That is exactly how it happened, absolutely nothing more! But when on earth did you move into the Riverview Penthouses? If I had known you lived here, I would absolutely never have troubled Seraphina!"

"I see," Rhett spoke in a gentle tone. "Thank you for the trouble, Miss Vance."

"It was no trouble," Seraphina countered. "Can I hand him over to you now? However, the family doctor I called hasn't arrived yet. Is one still required?"

"He needs to learn a lesson to improve his memory."

"Fine."

"...?" Julian felt exactly like an unwanted soccer ball. "Are neither of you going to ask for my opinion?"

"Do you have an objection?" Rhett asked with absolute patience.

The end of May in Manhattan was already scorching hot, yet Julian successfully broke into a cold sweat under this temperature.

"No..."

Having successfully escorted this unexpected guest out, Seraphina could finally sit down to rush through her photography proposals.

Sterling's brand philosophy centered on elegant and independent women. To completely bypass any further tyrannical rejections from the demon king Rhett, she had prepared three or four fully realized shooting concepts by now.

The doorbell rang.

Her train of thought shattered once more. Seraphina rubbed her temples in irritation, walking toward the entryway.

"Chloe, dear, don't you already know the passcode?"

"Hmm?"

A man's deep, magnetic voice vibrated against her eardrums.

He had changed into a set of dark blue silk loungewear. The loose collar exposed his pale collarbones, and moving past his broad shoulders, his taut muscle definition was right before her eyes. Stripped of his usual corporate oppression, a raw, untamable wildness burst forth.

It truly made a person want to unbutton his shirt completely to investigate further.

Seraphina always found it miraculous just how seamlessly he managed to fuse wild temptation with refined gentlemanly elegance so perfectly.

Rhett extended a box of adhesive bandages toward her.

Seraphina froze for several seconds. "Hmm?"

Following the trajectory of his gaze, her eyes landed on the scratch across her instep. It had likely been there for a while, and the dried crimson stain slicing across her pale skin looked exceptionally striking.

"Thank you," Seraphina spoke with a smile. "Is Mr. Sterling always this meticulously observant?"

He refrained from engaging in ambiguous word games with her, keeping his response concise and direct.

"Julian caused you trouble."

While utilizing his words to clearly delineate boundaries with you, he simultaneously demonstrated gentle concern.

"In the future, look after yourself first," Rhett's voice was slow and deliberate, resembling the whispered cadence of a late-night serenade. "Remember to disinfect it."

Seraphina played with the bandage in her fingers, filtering his statement to mean she had meddled in business that wasn't hers.

The more she was discouraged from doing something, the more Seraphina desired to do it.

She blinked her eyes, staring up at him. "What should I do if I don't possess any disinfectant at home?"

The young woman was beginning to deliberately stir up trouble.

"The family doctor."

"I told him not to come," Seraphina tilted her small face to look at him. "Without disinfection, it will become inflamed, right? It hurts so much."

Moments ago before he mentioned it, she hadn't even realized a wound existed. Now, she was suddenly beginning to feel the pain.

Yet the young woman spoke with absolute sincerity. Sheltered beneath his towering silhouette, she truly resembled a wounded, pitiable little pet.

Seraphina asked, "Can you assist me?"

The man's ink-dark gaze locked directly onto her features.

That heavily aggressive scrutiny felt exactly like an invitation enticing an innocent young girl to plunge into the deep ocean, whispering sweet endearments with him until dawn.

"I should—" Chloe was still standing inside the elevator, followed closely by the family doctor. Her eyes rapidly processed the tableau before her. "I didn't interrupt anything, did I?"

Seraphina: "..."

An early arrival truly couldn't compare to a perfectly timed one.

The man's brow quirked slightly, staring at her with pure amusement.

Seraphina shamelessly diverted the topic. "Since you are already here, let Dr. Zhu tend to Ju—"

"Julian," Chloe supplemented in a whisper. "Also, this is Dr. Wu."

"..."

"Whatever, just proceed with your tasks," Seraphina's patience had completely evaporated for the night. "Chloe, go sort things out on Julian's end."

"Seraphina," the man's deep voice floated right beside her ear. "Tend to your wound."

Seraphina spun around to look at him. Framed against the light, his deeply defined, exquisite features were draped in shadow, and his gentle words resembled a boundless breeze, slowly enveloping her frame.

She favored his voice, returning a rare, good-tempered response, "Understood, Mr. Sterling."

/

Seraphina never anticipated that for someone as deeply infatuated with attractive voices as herself, a day would come where she could still be driven to absolute fury by his vocal cords.

Her fifth proposal was rejected.

Seraphina slammed her tablet onto the desk, the resounding crash vibrating through the entire conference room.

Her bold action caused the nearby Sterling employees outside the glass walls to instantly peer into the room.

"Does anyone know what happened inside?"

"Probably another victim being 'tempered' by Mr. Sterling. Get used to it, just get used to it."

"..."

The secretary was visibly startled as well. "Miss Vance..."

"I frightened you, my apologies," Seraphina rubbed her temples, leaning back against the sofa. "Did Rhett offer a concrete reason?"

The secretary was genuinely somewhat terrified, lowering her volume significantly. "Your concepts do not align with the core philosophy of Sterling."

Seraphina practically ground her teeth together. "In what exact way do they fail to align?"

This was absolute madness!

Just how many Sterling pieces did she possess at home? How many archives and concepts had she frantically researched over the past week? How could it possibly be a failure to align with their philosophy?

This felt exactly like picking apart her work repeatedly before settling on the most inconspicuous excuse to dismiss her.

"Regarding that... Mr. Sterling didn't elaborate," the secretary cleared her throat softly. "If you wish to obtain clarification, I can attempt to schedule a time for you."

Attempt to schedule a time.

Translated, it meant: He didn't even possess the spare time to meet with her to discuss any follow-up.

Truth be told, ever since Seraphina launched her career in photography, her portfolio was stacked with glorious achievements. In her world, only two types of contracts existed. First: projects where corporate clients absolutely demanded her personal involvement. Second: cases she simply refused to accept.

Now, a third category had emerged: projects where she offered her services on a silver platter, yet was flatly refused.

In fact, she had delivered five entirely distinct concepts on a silver platter, only to be rejected every single time.

What kind of absolute Waterloo was this?

What kind of garbage excuse was a failure to align with the "philosophy"?

If fury possessed a physical form, this entire Sterling headquarters building would have already been burned down to absolute ashes.

"Miss Vance?"

"No need, thank you for your trouble," Seraphina stood up and walked toward the exit, leaving behind nothing more than a slender silhouette.

The assistant stepped into the room to review the proposals Seraphina had left behind. "But Miss Vance's work truly possesses so much raw spiritual brilliance... what exact detail is Mr. Sterling unsatisfied with?"

"That is not for you to question," the secretary replied, sending an update to Rhett.

Whether he actually reviewed the message remained unknown; no response arrived.

"...Oh," the young assistant asked. "Then what did Miss Vance mean by 'no need'? Is she walking away from the project completely?"

/

"Walking away?" Chloe's voice suddenly spiked in volume.

"I am done catering to him," Seraphina walked toward the exit with an expressionless face. "I don't lack this money. Let him do whatever he pleases."

Chloe pressed further, "If you walk away, what happens to your independent studio? Didn't your mother freeze your accounts?"

"I'll go back and cry to her," Seraphina replied lazily. "At worst, I'll purchase a plane ticket and fly out of the country. The world is massive; where exactly can she block me from going?"

Seraphina operated entirely on whim and emotion. She never subscribed to the logic that an insurmountable hurdle absolutely had to be cleared; her philosophy in life dictates that if a hurdle is insurmountable, one can simply lie down and take a nap.

The sky is vast, and paths diverge.

And don't even speak to her regarding the spirit of contractual obligation—she was offering free labor, what more did he want?

Given the current circumstances, she would rather return to endure Eleanor Vance's lecturing than take another single step into Sterling.

Chloe sounded exhausted. "You poured so much blood and soul into this, won't you try just one more time?"

A heavy silence ensued.

Seraphina watched the elevator numbers rapidly count down, her mind drifting to parts unknown, until an incredibly faint, muffled sob drifted from the other end of the line.

"Are you crying?"

"No," Chloe replied with a choked voice.

"Give me your location," Seraphina commanded. "Wait for me there."

Consider it a twist of fate—Chloe had come to Sterling today to retrieve the ready-to-wear garments required for the July issue of IESY. Logically speaking, this running errand was a task meant for an assistant, but her newly hired assistant was far too high-and-mighty, insisting on bringing her editor along to handle the manual labor.

The sequence of events was perhaps a bit sensitive.

Chloe had gone to inquire regarding the backup wardrobe selections for the August issue, leaving the assistant responsible for verifying the garments needed for July with the Sterling personnel. Upon her return, they were already seated inside the office gossiping about life.

"Hey, don't you think the editor supervising you is somewhat incompetent?"

"I wouldn't exactly say incompetent, just a bit small-minded," the assistant replied. "It's obvious she desperately wants to blend into this circle. But this is the fashion industry; the exact worth of your existence can be scanned in a single glance. Just look at that Leboy bag of hers—it is permanently that exact same bag."

True.

Within a world of intoxicated consumerism like the fashion industry, they casually discussed premier luxury garments and haute couture. Any elite luxury brand one could imagine would appear across ordinary office desks, making it a natural playground for vanity and status.

To put it bluntly, a single month of her salary couldn't even purchase a bag someone else tossed around carelessly.

Chloe could still clearly recall when she was merely an assistant, being brought along to attend an IESY gala dinner. The cumulative cost of her entire wardrobe failed to match even one-tenth of a single accessory worn by the others.

The senior editor supervising her hadn't criticized her at all; she had simply offered a faint smile.

The underlying meaning of that smile was exceptionally clear.

It was derision and pity.

Chloe had crossed socioeconomic boundaries to secure her current position. She attempted to integrate into this circle, gritting her teeth to mimic their wardrobe choices, trying her best to diminish the disparity separating them.

Yet the core essence of the problem wasn't something a single designer bag could eradicate.

"Ah? Really?"

"Why wouldn't it be real? A Leboy bag paired with two-hundred-dollar canvas sneakers? Her recurring looks consist of those exact same outfits. Truth be told, I am beginning to question if that Leboy bag is a counterfeit."

"..."

Their words acted like a heavy hammer, smashing her right back into her assistant days of wearing cheap outfits, evoking that exact same pitiful, high-and-mighty smile.

...

Chloe's eyes turned crimson. "I know I am being overly sensitive, but Seraphina, I have worked so incredibly hard to migrate in their direction, to stand on the exact same line as them. I simply enjoy being a fashion editor. Did I do something wrong?"

On the open-air observation deck of the fiftieth floor, clouds drifted across the blue sky as tears dissolved into the wind.

Seraphina gently stroked Chloe's hair. "You did nothing wrong."

"I fought with everything I had to climb upward, yet why can I simply never cross that divide? Are some people simply born lower and cheaper?" Chloe wept against Seraphina's shoulder.

Seraphina systematically patted Chloe's back, letting her vent her emotions completely.

Chloe didn't know if she should be sharing these thoughts with her. After all, Seraphina inherently belonged to that exact elite circle. Her emotional turbulence was far too volatile, causing her entire frame to shudder.

"Chloe, dear, some chasms cannot be crossed. But you are your authentic self—unique, and a treasure that absolutely no one can replace."

Value shouldn't be verified by wealth.

Your existence itself is the value.

The young woman's radiant eyes resembled bright stars, washed clean and transparent by the mountain mist, making it seem as though the gentle breeze filtering through this world was merely her echo.

"Stop crying, my precious Chloe."

/

The filtering breeze passed through the human world, blowing across the floating ice cubes inside a glass.

The secretary listened to the reported sequence of events with dropped jaws, finding it thoroughly impossible to link the arrogant heiress from the conference room with the Seraphina of this exact moment. After a long while, she finally let out a sigh of admiration.

"I truly couldn't tell... Miss Vance is actually such a wonderful person."

Rhett remained silent, resembling the eternal freeze of a shutter button.

The secretary attempted to peer into the emotions hidden within Rhett's eyes. They resembled a deep, endless expanse of blue ocean, entirely devoid of ripples, yet reflecting Seraphina's silhouette perfectly.

Seraphina's personal influence was far too potent; the secretary could actually sense the usual detachment dissolving slightly around her terrifying demon king boss.

Once Chloe's emotions stabilized, Seraphina stepped indoors to purchase some tissues.

She hadn't anticipated encountering Rhett here, looking as though they had been observing the scene for quite a while.

She was indifferent to being watched; it was simply that seeing Rhett currently ignited her fury.

Seraphina's emotions were always written clearly across her features. She bypassed his frame directly without a single pause.

The fabric of her skirt fluttered smoothly, this passing breeze carrying a distinct aroma of lily-of-the-valley and roses—an incredibly soft, sweet scent.

"Seraphina."

He called her name, his voice dropping several degrees lower than his previous address, melting entirely into the sweet breeze.

Seraphina's footsteps halted.

"Does Mr. Sterling have further instructions for me?"

"Your proposals," Rhett spoke smoothly. "Do you intend to abandon them completely?"

"Why, does Mr. Sterling intend to grant me a brand-new opportunity?"

Seraphina's tone couldn't be classified as pleasant, falling barely short of bluntly translating "opportunity" into "torture."

Rhett replied, "Yes."

He agreed with such absolute readiness that Seraphina was the one left stunned instead.

Recalling this demon king's predatory merchant nature of never suffering a loss, she asked directly, "What is the condition this time?"

The shifting square of space was saturated with the orange hues of the setting sun, illuminating their crossing silhouettes against a corner of this skyscraper that seemed to pierce the clouds.

Her long gown resembled a fluttering butterfly. He took a single step forward, capturing the butterfly securely within his palm.

"Come to Sterling as an intern."

"...?"

To intern at Sterling—wasn't that placing her directly by his side?