Chapter 44 Aaron's Mood Is Off

The car stopped, and Eleanor woke up. Although she hadn't managed to stay awake, her subconscious still reminded her not to sleep.
She knew she was home when she caught a glimpse of the familiar green belt.

Blinking away the fatigue in her eyes, the drowsiness was somewhat dispelled. Her muscles ached from the fever, but she mustered the strength to sit up.

"Mr. Harris, thank you," she said politely, grabbing her bag and medicine, ready to get out of the car.

"You can take the afternoon off," Colin Harris spoke up.

Eleanor shook her head. "That's not necessary, Mr. Harris. I've taken some medicine and I'm feeling much better. I just need to get my car keys at home."

Standing by the car door, her hand resting on the frame, she bent slightly in a respectful manner as she spoke. The sun outside was strong; the deep autumn sunlight seemed to cast a warm filter over everything.

A gentle light stretched from behind her, falling on the back of Colin Harris's hand.

Colin Harris looked at her pale face. "I'm not a tyrant, you don't have to work yourself sick for me."

Eleanor's feverish mind was slow to respond, and it took her a moment to realize he was referencing a notorious character from the classic tale, a cruel landlord known for exploiting the downtrodden.

"Mr. Harris, you can't be compared to such a person." Eleanor's thoughts were muddled, and her words came out clumsily.

She was annoyed with herself for suddenly being at a loss for words, and then her stomach grumbled loudly.

Her face flushed with the heat of embarrassment.

She hadn't eaten since lunch and her stomach was empty.

The rumbling of her stomach in front of her boss, whom she didn't know all that well, was mortifying. She cursed herself for not going upstairs sooner.

Colin Harris, ever gracious, didn't comment on it. "Go and rest," he said.

Unable to stay any longer, Eleanor quickly turned and headed upstairs.

Once home, she drank some water and lay down on the bed, wanting to take a nap before eating. As she drifted off, her phone buzzed with texts from an unknown number.

She picked up with a hint of suspicion.

"Is this Miss Patterson? I have a delivery for you. Which floor are you on?"

Living alone, Eleanor was always cautious. She hadn't ordered food, and with all the recent events, she had to be wary.

"I didn't order anything; you must have the wrong person."

"It's a meal ordered by Mr. Harris."

Eleanor paused. Could it be Colin Harris?

Curiosity struck her; she wondered how he got her number. Then she remembered that after her promotion to Deputy Director, she was added to a company group chat for upper management, which contained her number.

The meal was a set of bland dishes, suitable for someone with an unsettled stomach.

Looking at the food, Eleanor reached for her phone, wanting to thank Colin Harris. But his number was nowhere to be found in the group.
Her gaze briefly flickered to the takeout packaging adorned with a slip of paper bearing a string of digits. It wasn’t her number; it was likely there just in case Colin Harris needed to reach her about the delivery.

With a mix of curiosity and trepidation, Eleanor dialed the number.

After a few seconds, a deep, smooth voice answered, "Hello?"

It was indeed Colin Harris.

Clutching her phone a bit tighter, Eleanor’s voice was that of a subordinate speaking to a superior, respectful and slightly nervous, "Mr. Harris, it's me, Eleanor."

"I know," he responded.

"I received the takeout. Thank you. How much do I owe you? I’d like to send you the payment."

He seemed caught off guard by her initiative, and there was a brief, two-second silence.

Just when Eleanor thought Colin Harris would dismiss the trivial amount of money, he said, “We’ll deduct it from your salary.”

Then, he hung up.

Eleanor knew, of course, that they wouldn't actually deduct it from her salary. Colin Harris wouldn’t take money from a lady, and he was considerate of her feelings—a perfect gentleman.

He was much like Edward in that regard, truly befitting of cousins.

Thus, after a comforting nap that evening, Eleanor felt better and decided to bake a modest cake. Not expensive, yet a gesture not unappreciated, it wouldn’t do to accept a lunch without reciprocating in some way.

Baking was Eleanor’s one true skill, and she did it well.

Anticipating that Colin Harris probably didn’t have a sweet tooth, she opted for a four-inch sesame cake, modest in size with a subtle flavor, but irresistibly fragrant.



As quitting time neared, Quinn Corporation was about to hold a meeting for its management team.

The tension in the air was palpable as Aaron's mood seemed off, causing the managers to be on edge, as though seating on pins and needles.

Fortunately, despite Aaron's stern demeanor, he did not let his emotions influence his work ethic or take it out on his subordinates. The meeting concluded successfully, albeit in a highly strained atmosphere.

Exiting the conference room, Ray was intercepted by the CEO's second assistant, “Ray, Aaron would like to see you.”

Director Ray felt his heart skip a beat, his mind racing. Yet, he quickly reassured himself that he hadn’t done anything wrong.

Entering the CEO's office, he was greeted by an expansive desk set against the backdrop of floor-to-ceiling windows. The desk's dark elegance was softly illuminated by the setting sun, creating a subtle yet awe-inspiring presence.

Particularly, the young man behind the desk, writing, exuded an air of authority and nobility that came naturally to him. After five years at the helm of Quinn Corporation, he had overseen unprecedented growth and earned the respect of everyone from top to bottom.

Approaching the desk, Ray addressed him with utmost respect, "Aaron."
"Mm." The man looked up from the documents, his voice cool and detached, "How's the integration with Gaia BioTech Industries coming along?"

Aaron rarely inquired about project details in person, especially one as fresh as the Gaia collaboration. It was puzzling why everything hadn't even settled into a routine yet.

RayRay, despite his confusion, replied honestly, "There are still some aspects of the design that need to be discussed further."

"And the rest?" the man asked, his eyes as dark as the abyss.

The rest?

Ray was no novice; he’d navigated the corporate maze for thirty years. While he couldn't fully fathom the minds of the powers that be, gleaning a hint or two was within his means.

Thinking of Miss Patterson who had secured the deal from Aaron's hands, he had initially thought it was likelier due to her outstanding professional skills. Aaron was reputed to be a man of integrity and was on the verge of an engagement, which made the other possibility seem far-fetched.

But now that Aaron had brought it up personally, Ray had an inkling of what might be the case.

He quickly responded, "Miss Patterson's proposal is very thorough, and she has comprehensive answers to all the questions. However, she seemed under the weather and declined to join us for lunch."

"Unwell?" Aaron's gaze narrowed.

Had she turned down their lunch to accompany him to the hospital instead?

But she had hung up the phone and tried to sneak out the front door. She was caught red-handed and didn't want to go to the hospital, meaning she must have actually felt ill to leave.

Ray discreetly observed Aaron's expression, to no avail; it was impossible to read any emotion on his stoic face.

Unsure, but deciding to be transparent and take a gamble, he continued, "She looked like she had a cold or a fever, shivering during the meeting. She insisted on staying until the end before leaving. I offered her a break during, but she refused. The secretary mentioned that she even went to the restroom to splash cold water on her face to cool down."

Aaron's eyes darkened, and in his hand, the pen snapped clean in two.
Fleeing the Embrace of My Obsessed Husband
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