Chapter 11: Young Mr. Yoxal Is Back

"Th-then it's settled," Sia Thubron said, her tone all innocence and grievance. "You were the one who tried something with me earlier, so you already got the advantage. I'm a girl, and you bullied me like that, and I didn't even say anything about it." She pinched her collar with her small hand, shrinking into a pitiful little quail. Anyone would have thought she was the one who'd been bitten. The one whose most treasured collection had shattered. A spark of fury flared over Liam Hawksford's head. He turned, and those ink-dark eyes cut toward her, sharp enough to look like they could carve her into a thousand pieces. Sia drew her neck back. Her pink lips pressed into a tight line. He had wanted to explode, but then he met those doe-like eyes, innocent and pure, glassy with tears that threatened to spill. The rage in Liam's chest lost to her pathetic little act. "Get out!" The urge to crush her ended as an order to kick her out instead. Even looking at her made his blood boil. "Okay." Sia accepted her pardon without hesitation. She slipped out at once, terrified he would change his mind and make her pay. She ran like she was sprinting the hundred-meter dash. After she left, Liam braced one hand against the glass, forcing himself to calm down. How did that little thing have this maddening power to argue shamelessly and still make him unable to blame her? He'd lost his mind. Then he remembered her saying she liked someone else, and the chill around him deepened. He turned and immediately called the internal line for Timothy Quiney to come in. Timothy had been hovering outside, craning his neck every so often to catch any sign of movement from the President's Office. When he saw the Young Mistress bolt out in a hurry, he was just about to mutter, "That fast?" when the President's direct line rang. Timothy pushed open the redwood door. With his keen eyes, he spotted what was off the moment he stepped inside. The ornament that had sat by the redwood desk lay on the floor, shattered into chunks. "Boss! Th-this… isn't this a little too extravagant?" Timothy blurted. Liam knew exactly what he meant. He sat back in the large chair, coldness pooling around him as if he were seated in the middle of a frozen wasteland. Timothy suddenly crouched down, his attention caught by the spot where Liam's hand had been braced. "Boss, you're hurt!" Timothy's emotions were entirely too jumpy today. Liam lifted his gaze. A knife-edge look swept over him. Timothy snapped his mouth shut. "Bitten by a dog," Liam said. "Oh." Timothy went along with it, a hint of teasing in his voice. "That's a pretty special bite." What kind of dog left clear tooth marks like that? Liam's razor-sharp stare pinned him. Timothy smiled and shut up again. This Young Mistress really was something. "Go check…" Liam started, then stopped. He was clearly thinking. "Check what? Something about the Young Mistress?" Timothy asked at once, curiosity getting the better of him. Mentioning that uncultured bumpkin who couldn't recognize value made Liam's temple throb. "Find out which guy she's been seeing at school." "Ah! O-okay!" Timothy jolted, then answered quickly. "And this Golden Prosperous Sovereign Age Famille Rose Pierced Revolving Vase?" "Get an expert to restore it. Replace all the valuable ornaments at home with a new batch. That bumpkin doesn't know what she's touching. She can't be allowed to wreck things like that." Liam pinched the bridge of his nose. He thought of her righteous little face when she'd said "twenty bucks." He was so furious he didn't even want to talk. "Understood. I'll contact an expert right away," Timothy said. He was about to leave when he turned back again. "Young master, should you put some ointment on your face?" he asked carefully, biting back a laugh and clinging to the professionalism expected of a president's special assistant. "You tell me!" Liam nearly growled. A tooth mark was stamped on his face. How was he supposed to go out and let people see him? Timothy nodded and prepared to retreat. "Wait." Liam stopped him again. Timothy turned back, all polished business-elite, respectful to the bone. "Do we still have my brother's wheelchair at home?" "Yes." "Find one for me. I'll need it tonight." Liam touched his cheek, eyes narrowing. Tonight, he would settle the score with her. "Got it." Timothy withdrew. Sia stepped out of the President's Office and was immediately surrounded by a crowd of senior executives. "Well? How did it go with the President?" They crowded around her, faces full of concern, trying to probe the temperament of their young President through her. Sia's cheeks flushed as they hemmed her in, all of them smiling at her so warmly it made her awkward. "It was pretty good, President," Sia lied through her teeth. She wasn't like the fierce little kitten she'd been in front of Liam earlier. Before these older higher-ups, she looked more like a well-behaved junior. "Does the President lose his temper a lot? Does he give orders on a whim?" "Does the President like anything? Is there anything he needs?" "The President…" They fired questions one after another, and Sia caught the most important one. "The President has something he likes," Sia said, nodding hard. "He seems to really love collecting things. I saw a very beautiful vase in his office. Could you find another one to make a pair?" She looked obedient and quiet. Even with her face red, she still had that untouched, youthful air, like a pure high school girl. "Likes collecting? That's easy." One of the executives who had barked at Sia earlier about firing her spoke up. "Old Zhao, aren't you the one who loves collecting antiques the most? Name a price. Let me pick a few pieces. Consider it a first-meeting gift for the President." "Sure. We'll talk it over tonight. He's the President, after all. We can't show up looking cheap." "Right." Everyone nodded in agreement. "Thanks for your hard work, Intern Thubron," they said, turning to praise her once they'd decided. After all, she'd infiltrated the enemy camp and figured out what the President liked. If they were going to work under him, getting on his good side early could only help. Sia smiled, looking a little shy. Inside, she was one step away from throwing a party. That meant she didn't even have to spend twenty bucks! Perfect. Sia was broke. Poverty kept her on a tight leash. "If you need someone to carry things when you deliver the gifts, you can call me," Sia said gently, eyes curved in a sweet smile. "Alright. We'll call you." The executives were impressed by her quick thinking and initiative. That was what they called ambition. Young people should be like this. Sia didn't see it that way. She'd helped the President make a nice haul. If the President accepted a pile of precious collectibles, maybe he wouldn't pursue her mistake anymore. What was that called? Fleece came off the dog, and the pig paid the bill. That was how a girl with a sharp business mind was made. Clever, and a little ruthless. Exactly right. On her first day of work, Sia finally reported to her department under the escort of a whole group of senior executives. She was new, yet her treatment was surprisingly good. The entire day, the President never came looking for trouble again. He only sent over a few documents for her to translate. Sia had a gift for languages. She could watch American and Japanese dramas and teach herself well enough to pass level exams and earn certificates. With years of study at school, she had already mastered English, German, French, Japanese, and Korean. Once she finished the translations, it was time to clock out. The butler still handled her pickup and drop-off, driving a fairly low-key private car. Sia returned to the villa. The moment she stepped out, she spotted a familiar nanny van. It was the one that had taken Young Mr. Yoxal away on her wedding day. Sia's heart sank. Even her breathing tightened.