Chapter 520 It’s My Wife's
Emily Reed spoke, "A few brands that were interested have dropped their invites, and three others with signed contracts…are still in discussion."
"Also, I've sent a termination notice to the director who questioned your health yesterday, but we need to hold our ground with confidence and pride."
Not cooperating with those who doubted her was the best stance, especially given Natalie's current situation.
Emily's voice continued through the receiver, "Natalie, you must realize that some of these cancellations are due to skepticism about your leg, and others stem from your divorce from Oliver."
"I'm aware," Natalie said, looking at her wounded leg.
In any circle, not only is competence key, but so are connections.
And in her case, Oliver's dazzling influence had tragically overshadowed her own as a model.
"Emily," Natalie began slowly, "there's something I need to ask of you."
"Go right ahead, why the formality?"
"I need to cancel all my engagements for the next month, and... you might want to start scouting for a new rising star. I'm sorry, Emily."
Emily Reed was stunned for several seconds before grasping the gravity of the situation. "Natalie, what's wrong?"
"My leg... it might not recover soon."
After hanging up, Natalie lifted her dress to scrutinize her legs in the full-length mirror.
A week of rehabilitation had significantly countered the muscle atrophy, and there was hardly any noticeable difference between her legs.
But beauty was futile if she couldn’t walk properly.
And for a model, a walking issue might as well mean the end of her career.
Natalie felt a chill of desolation, as if fate had played a cruel, twisted joke on her.
After what seemed like an eternity, she mustered enough energy to arrange for a delivery of medical supplies.
Her wounded leg required attention; she couldn't be indifferent about potentially becoming lame, just because of a scar.
Rashly giving up wasn't Natalie's style.
Downstairs at Maple Villa, Oliver stood by the flowerbeds.
Handsome as he was, he still managed to look intimidating.
The courier wouldn't be asking for directions unless he was really in a hurry to deliver something – and if anyone else had been around.
Oliver gestured towards the opposite building.
From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the delivery label: Apartment 1602, Building 12, Miss Watson.
"Wait!" Oliver called the courier, who was about to dash off.
The courier turned back, his face a sea of question marks, tinged with apprehension.
"This is for me..." Oliver pointed at the bag, "I'll take it up."
The courier immediately withdrew his hand, eyeing Oliver warily, "Who are you? You're not some creep who's trying to harass customers, are you? I’ll call the police!"
Oliver was at a loss for words.
"No way, you’re too sharp-dressed and good-looking to be involved in anything shady," the courier had an epiphany, his curiosity piqued, "Are you sweet on this lady and looking to woo her?"
The courier, trying to advise, said, "Look man, you've got the looks but you're not using them to your advantage. No woman's gonna deal with that scowl."
"Give it to me." He held out his hand.
"Do you actually know this customer? I have to be responsible for my clients." The courier was obstinately sticking to his guns.
"It's for my wife," Oliver said, pointing at the medicine bag.
"Your wife? Don't try to fool me. I've seen you standing here since I got into the complex. You haven't moved an inch. If that's your wife's, why would you just stand here?"
The courier, initially considering Oliver for the delivery, took the package back, "Nope, something feels off about you. I better handle this myself..."
"Give it to me!" he demanded, stepping forward with his tall frame to block the courier's path.
The delivery guy began to double-check the customer's name, but he didn't finish as Oliver grabbed the medicine and headed straight for the elevator.
The elevator continued its ascent.
Oliver glanced at the receipt, noting items like cotton swabs and alcohol pads—stuff for treating minor injuries.
Did Natalie hurt herself again?
A frown creased his forehead.
Before he knew it, he'd torn open the paper bag and was examining the contents.
Just basic medical supplies, nowhere near the post-injury healing ointments he'd used on Natalie before.
His face couldn't hide the distaste.
"Ding-dong—"
The elevator reached the 16th floor.
He stood in front of unit 1601 for a while, staring at the securely shut security door, itching to pry it open—to see for himself what state Natalie was in after her hasty departure from him!
Her leg had just healed, and now she was hurt again?
Suddenly, footsteps were heard inside the apartment—faint, but Oliver’s keen senses picked them up.
The next second, the lock clicked open.
In a flash, Oliver hastily placed the bag on the floor and ducked into the nearby stairwell for cover.
Natalie opened the door still on the phone with the delivery guy:
"...Oh, I see it now. There's a bag of medicine at my doorstep."
"Yeah, everything's there. Thanks for your hard work! I noticed that your deliveries for the area had ended and I hadn't received my package, so I called to check."
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