Chapter 451 Does She Really Still Love Me?
The Valdemar Group.
In the spacious and luxurious CEO office, Albert sat behind his desk, surrounded by a towering wall of books and files.
Warm sunlight streamed in, casting a glow on Albert's chiseled profile, like a meticulously carved ice sculpture. Yet, no amount of sunlight could melt the cold aura surrounding him.
Albert was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, complete with an exquisite tie and cufflinks, reflecting his meticulousness and self-discipline.
His expression was slightly grim as he stared at his phone with eyes as sharp as a hawk's.
The video on his phone played over and over.
Ingrid's hand was unsteady, causing the video to shake slightly. The quality wasn't great, even a bit blurry.
In the video, Clifford gazed at Yvette with an undeniable depth of emotion, every subtle expression filled with cautious probing.
It was as if he feared he hadn't expressed his affection clearly enough, yet also feared expressing too much and causing Yvette's displeasure.
Albert focused on Yvette's back. He couldn't see her face or expressions, but he could hear the displeasure in her tone.
Albert exhaled slowly, but there was still a tightness in his chest that he couldn't release.
The phone on his desk rang. Albert glanced at it; it was Doyle.
"Albert, I sent your final check-up report to your email. Nothing to worry about, you're healthier than I am."
There was a lot of noise on Doyle's end, music blaring like thunder.
Albert frowned. "Where are you?"
"Now that I don't have to babysit you, my social life has gotten a lot more interesting." Doyle chuckled mischievously. "Can't talk now, a pretty lady is eyeing me, signaling for my number."
"You're at a bar?" Albert asked.
"Yeah." Doyle paused, suddenly sounding defensive. "Why? You're not planning to come, are you?"
Albert stared at Ingrid's phone in his hand, feeling a twinge of irritation.
He opened a drawer, tossed the phone in, and stood up abruptly. "Yeah."
"Don't come!" Doyle sounded alarmed. "Every time you show up, you take over a private room. How am I supposed to meet women then?"
Doyle continued to grumble, "Albert, you—"
Albert didn't give him a chance to finish, hanging up and striding out of the office.
In a secluded, dimly lit private room, Albert's long fingers held a lit cigarette, the red ember flickering in the dark, smoky room.
The swirling smoke blurred Albert's sharp features.
He sat on the main sofa, exuding an aura that warned others to keep their distance. His deep eyes held a hidden turmoil, making it hard to read his emotions, but his dissatisfaction was palpable.
Doyle sat beside him, and a few other wealthy heirs were playing on the other side of the room. Victor was there too. Seeing Albert, he walked over and sat next to him.
Albert's phone vibrated. He glanced at it, and whatever he saw made his cold eyes even more shadowed in the dim light.
Victor loosened his shirt collar and handed Albert a drink. "Man, you look like you just got dumped."
"Yeah, your wife's back, so what's with the long face?" Doyle, shedding his usual professional demeanor as Dr. Cunningham, casually patted Albert's shoulder. "How's it going? My advice worked, right? How's married life—uh, I mean, how's your relationship?"
Albert's cold gaze silenced Victor and Doyle immediately.
Albert took the drink from Victor, the amber liquid swirling in the glass. He downed it in one gulp.
The strong scent of alcohol filled his nostrils. Albert frowned, his mind replaying that not-so-long video.
Victor and Doyle exchanged glances, raising their eyebrows slightly.
They had known Albert for a long time. When had they ever seen him like this, except for those years when Yvette had suddenly disappeared?
But Yvette was back now.
They knew that when Albert didn't want to talk, nothing could make him. So they said nothing, silently refilling his glass.
The liquor was strong, and Albert drank one glass after another.
Before long, a faint drunkenness clouded his eyes.
Doyle sneaked a peek at Albert's phone screen, which showed a selfie of BoBo and CiCi.
Doyle chuckled meaningfully. "Albert, are you thinking that you need your own kids? Your wife has been back for a while now. Want me to help you get your body ready for one?"
Victor looked at Doyle in surprise, not expecting him to be so bold.
But given their close relationship, Victor couldn't bear to see Doyle's impending doom, so he added, "He means, since you were injured and on medication for a long time, it's better to get your body in shape for the sake of the sperm quality and the baby's health."
Albert didn't lift his head, but he lost interest in smoking. He flicked away the half-burnt cigarette and downed another glass.
Doyle's smile faded, realizing Albert was genuinely in a bad mood.
He refilled Albert's glass. "What's going on?"
Albert's cold gaze fixed on the floor, the flashing lights dancing.
Albert seemed to be answering Doyle, or maybe asking himself, "Does she really still love me?"
Doyle and Victor were stunned. Was this really the confident, arrogant Albert speaking?
Doyle hesitated for a few seconds, then touched Albert's forehead. "No fever. Is he really drunk?"
Albert impatiently turned his head away. "Get lost."
Seeing Albert curse, Victor felt slightly relieved. "His brain's fine, but why ask such a question? Albert, do you think a woman who doesn't love you would stick around for so many years?"
Albert's thin lips pressed tightly together, his breath filled with the scent of alcohol. He murmured, "I don't know."
Doyle laughed maliciously. "Albert, I never thought I'd see the day!"
Today, Albert was surprisingly good-natured, accepting their jabs without complaint.
Albert was soaked in alcohol, his voice hoarse with drunkenness.
"How can I know her heart?"