Chapter 25: Dylan's Suspicions

Ursula clutched the flash drive tightly as Dylan's persistent knocking echoed ominously through the room. But Matthew was quicker, his embrace was sudden and warm, his breath was a whisper in her ear, "Who said you could do that?"

Surprised, Ursula's cheeks burned, not with shyness but with indignation. Still, she needed his discretion. "Matthew, please, Dylan can't find out."

Each knock sent her heart racing, a mix of tension, fear, and guilt gnawing at her.

Matthew looked down at Ursula, her misty eyes were begging for understanding, her lips pressed in a silent plea.

Then, unexpectedly, he let her go and spoke without emotion, "The check's under the notebook. Go to the lounge, wait, then use the private elevator."

Before she could process, Matthew moved towards the door. Ursula, collecting herself, grabbed the check and retreated to the lounge, closing the door with a soft click.

She could hear Dylan's voice outside, "What took you so long to open the door?" Suspicion tinged his words.

Matthew's reply was curt, "I was about to nap."

Dylan hesitated, torn between hunger and suspicion.

Matthew's offer to let Dylan search the room was a relief to Ursula, a rare gesture of patience from him.

Dylan decided not to investigate further, and the moment passed. "I trust you, let's eat," Dylan said, and they left.

Alone, Ursula's composure crumbled, tears streaming down her face as she clutched the check, a lifeline, not just a sum of money.

After ensuring they were gone, she wiped her tears and left through a different route, avoiding Matthew's private elevator. In her daze, she bumped into someone on the eighteenth floor.

"Sorry, sorry," she mumbled, not looking up.

"It's okay," the man replied, his voice was deep.

When he alerted her to the dropped check, Ursula's heart leaped. She thanked him and finally met his gaze, taken aback by his intense presence.

"No need," he said, turning to leave.

Ursula, feeling a debt of gratitude, offered a meal in thanks, surprised when he accepted with a simple "Mhm."

His subtle smile suggested amusement, and Ursula, flustered, handed him her business card, "Call me when you’re free."

He tucked the card away, his casual acceptance a playful indulgence in her panicked state.

As Ursula hurried off, the man, Shen Yao, watched her go, then pocketed the card with interest. The encounter had been an unexpected diversion, one that seemed it might lead to more than just a thank you meal.