Nathaniel Fu offered a brief apology to Mr. Smith. The latter gestured politely, indicating it was fine.
Secretary Song stepped forward and leaned in to whisper, "President, bad news—Miss Su and Madam Fu have been in a car accident."
"A car accident?" Nathaniel's voice turned cold. "Are they hurt?"
"They're okay physically, but it seems like they were pretty shaken up. Their voices were trembling when I spoke to them. They need you to handle the situation personally."
Without hesitation, Nathaniel turned to Mr. Smith and said in a low voice, "I'm terribly sorry, but something urgent has come up. I need to step out briefly."
Mr. Smith raised an eyebrow. "Something urgent enough to pull President Fu from a negotiation?"
Nathaniel picked up his coat. "Someone caused trouble... and got scared. I'll take care of it."
Celia and Mrs. Fu stood on the roadside next to the dented Ferrari. Moments later, a sleek Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled up.
The driver's door opened, and Nathaniel's tall, commanding figure emerged. Dressed sharply in a silver-gray suit beneath a tailored black overcoat, his every step exuded authority. He approached them with brisk, decisive strides and came to a stop in front of the two women.
His voice was deep and cold. "Who was driving?"
Celia glanced hesitantly at Mrs. Fu.
Without missing a beat, Mrs. Fu stepped back and gently nudged Celia forward. "Son, it wasn't me—it was all Celia."
"…?" Celia froze.
Where was the same Mrs. Fu who swore she'd protect her moments ago?
With that gentle push, her slender frame stumbled forward—straight into Nathaniel's chest.
He caught her reflexively.
The crisp scent of his cologne filled her nose. She collided with the clean, structured lines of his suit—silver buttons gleaming at the collar, the white shirt beneath pressed to perfection. Her cheeks flushed red as she realized how close they were.
Nathaniel, clearly angry, gripped her by the wrist and lifted her slightly away from him. "Stand properly."
Celia stiffened, lifting her chin.
He looked at her coldly. "Do you have any idea how valuable my time is? I walked out of a high-level international meeting for this."
He turned to glance at the Ferrari—now with a sizable dent in the front.
"You know nothing about performance cars but still wanted to drive one? Do you even understand the handling dynamics of this model? It's front and rear-wheel drive—not ideal for comfort or safety, especially not for someone with no experience. All you know is how to spend money on expensive things."
His tone was strict, almost like a father scolding a child.
Celia could feel the stares of bystanders. She could almost hear their whispers, see the smirks on their lips. Her face burned—not just from embarrassment, but also a hint of indignation.
She raised her eyes—clear, bright, and filled with stubbornness.
"I—" she started to defend herself.
Nathaniel's voice dropped an octave. "You dare talk back?"
The sharpness in his gaze made her fall silent. She bit her lip, turned her head aside with a quiet huff.
That was her last ounce of rebellion.
From nearby, several people gathered, murmuring quietly among themselves.
"Whoa, is that... like, a real-life CEO and his fiery little wife? They look straight out of a movie."
"How romantic... if you ignore the scolding part."
Just then, Secretary Song reappeared. "President Fu, the traffic police have arrived to process the scene. The dealership staff is also evaluating the damage. Someone will follow up with insurance and repairs. Everything's under control."
"Then what are you standing around for?" Nathaniel snapped, already walking toward his Rolls-Royce. "Let's go."
"…Okay."
Celia and Mrs. Fu followed quickly.
As they walked, Mrs. Fu leaned in and whispered with an exaggerated sigh, "Cici, your husband is so fierce."
Celia: "…"