Celia deliberately emphasized the last three words: "Secretary Wang."
Mandy Wang turned pale. Completely defeated, she clenched her fists, spun on her heel, and stormed out of the office.
An hour later.
The meeting finally ended. Nathaniel Fu and Mr. Smith walked out together, passing by the president's office.
Mr. Smith caught sight of Celia at a glance. She was seated on the sofa, reading quietly. The light from the window highlighted her flawless left profile—soft, elegant, and quietly stunning.
"Mr. Fu," Mr. Smith said with a teasing smile, "is that the young lady who caused such a stir that you had to leave the conference in person?"
Nathaniel arched a brow but didn't deny it.
"I've heard whispers that President Fu has a soft spot for college girls. Seems those rumors might be true," Mr. Smith added, stealing another glance at Celia. "She's truly beautiful—no wonder you're so taken."
Nathaniel subtly stepped in front of him, blocking his view.
"Mr. Smith," he said coolly, "your hotel accommodations are ready. I'll have someone escort you there now."
Not wanting to push further, Mr. Smith chuckled and walked away.
Just then, Secretary Song leaned in to report, "Sir, I heard Miss Su officially started at CC today."
Nathaniel glanced toward the girl still reading calmly. She looked so composed—serious, even—not boastful, not shy. Just... focused.
He wasn't entirely surprised. She'd said last night she would find her own way into CC, and clearly, she meant it.
But how had a so-called "clown girl from the countryside" pulled that off?
"Sir," Secretary Song continued, "I also heard that King was the one who arranged her entry into CC. Since King is rumored to be Miss Sylvia Su, it would make sense that she helped her cousin."
Nathaniel's brows drew together ever so slightly.
Was that really how she got in?
Without responding, he took long strides into the office.
Hearing footsteps, Celia looked up from her book. "President Fu, you're back. I got bored waiting and borrowed a book from your shelf. I was just about to return it."
She turned and gently slid the book back into place.
"If you like it, you can keep it," Nathaniel said casually.
Celia turned to him, her eyes curving in a smile. "I wouldn't dare accept Mr. Fu's personal belongings. After all, if your secretary found out, I might get torn apart."
Nathaniel lifted a brow. "My secretary? You mean Mandy Wang?"
"Oh? Mr. Fu remembers her name so clearly." Her eyes sparkled playfully as she blinked at him, her tone as mischievous as a little fox's.
Nathaniel tossed the folder in his hand onto his desk and smirked faintly. "Can't you speak without that tone? Try talking to me nicely."
Celia raised her brows. "Oh, I'm sorry. I could never speak as sweetly as your secretary. She's always in a tailored suit and black stockings. I guess you're into uniform aesthetics. Or maybe it's the way she cradles your jacket like a holy relic—are you also into maid fantasies?"
She said it with honey in her voice and barbed sarcasm underneath.
Nathaniel quirked an eyebrow, taking her in from head to toe. His gaze held a teasing sharpness. "You seem to know a lot… but I can't tell from experience."
Celia: "…"
She had walked herself right into that one.
She prided herself on her quick wit, but somehow, she always came out second best when sparring with him.
Trying to shift the mood, she refocused. "President Fu, I'd like to speak seriously with you. It's about your mother."
"Go ahead," he said, stepping closer.
Celia instinctively took a step back. She never liked it when he got too close—his presence was too intense, too dangerously alluring. It was too easy to get pulled in.
"Your mother came to see me today," she said quietly. "She… recognized me. That Ferrari—she gave it to me. I couldn't say no. She was so kind, and I… I just didn't have the heart."
Nathaniel's eyes narrowed slightly.
"But this can't go on like this," Celia continued. "I think you need to tell her the truth—about the substitute—gently, of course. She deserves that."
She backed up as she spoke, but soon, her lower back bumped against the edge of his desk. There was nowhere else to go.