Chapter 543 SoNo, You're Martin
After listening to Patricia's account, James slightly curled his lips. "Tomorrow morning, 9 o'clock sharp, we'll have an executive meeting."
Patricia looked at him, puzzled.
"Tomorrow is their last chance," James said. "You'll wait an hour, and if anyone doesn't show, fire them on the spot."
"But what if only a few show up again?" Patricia asked. "I can't just fire everyone, can I? If I did, the company would be unable to function."
"They'll come. The majority will," James assured her. "Those who come still have their ambitions set on you; those who don't, you don't need them anyway. It is better to have an empty spot than keep a rot in the company. I've already contacted several headhunters, and they've recommended some promising candidates. If push comes to shove, we can promote from the ranks of assistant directors, department heads, and team leaders. It'll boost the spirit and passion of the team."
Patricia nodded. "Got it! I'll handle it according to your instructions."
James, worried she might waver, added, "Remember, no matter how much they plead or cause a commotion, do not go easy on them. Set an example to warn the others; you've got to demonstrate your resolve and strength."
Patricia pounded her chest in assurance. "I know how critical tomorrow is, and I won't go easy."
After James provided a few final instructions for the meeting, he prepared to depart.
"It's getting late; I should be going. You should head back and get some rest, too," he said, covering his mouth with a cough as he stood.
Patricia watched him leave with a deep sense of reluctance. Her hand reached out instinctively and clutched his sleeve.
James stopped and turned. "Is there anything else?"
"It's late; let me drive you back!" Patricia said, scrambling for an excuse. She hoped this might give her a chance to learn more about him.
James, however, shrugged off her hand. "No need. I live close by and can walk."
"But…"
James had already started walking away.
"Mrs. Watson, he's always been like this," Alan said, holding her back from chasing after James. "If he doesn't want to talk, let it be. It's getting late. You should go home and get some rest. We've got a tough day ahead of us tomorrow."
Patricia nodded absently, gazing in the direction James had left. After Alan had gone, she hurried out of the office. Informed by the security guard that James had headed towards the back, she quickly followed.
Something about him magnetically pulled her in. Despite knowing it was wrong, Patricia felt an irresistible urge to follow him. As evening set in, the business district emptied.
After work hours, the crowd had thinned out, leaving only a few late workers in the mostly darkened buildings. The dim streetlights cast a yellowish glow, lending an eeriness to the surroundings.
Patricia's pursuit led her off course. Surprised by a sudden sigh, she realized she had wandered into an alley near entertainment venues, such as bars, underground casinos, bathhouses, and saunas.
The darkness of the alley made it impossible to see. Patricia was about to retreat when she found her path blocked by a chest with crossed arms.
She screamed, ready to cry for help, only to discover it was James blocking her way.
Relieved, she patted her chest. "James! I felt scared half to death. I thought for a moment that you were—"
"You thought it was some drunk?" James asked, raising an eyebrow. "Or maybe someone on drugs?"
Patricia leaned against the wall, gasping for air.
"Knowing it's not safe, why did you still come after me?" James asked, his gaze piercing.
"You knew I was following you?" Patricia asked, surprised.
James kept his gaze fixed on her, neither confirming nor denying.
"So you knew I was following, and you still led me here on purpose?" Patricia said, feeling a bit angry.
"I just wanted to teach you a lesson. A woman shouldn't be following a man around, especially one she's hardly known for a day," James said solemnly.
Patricia fell silent, catching her breath. The alley was too dark to clearly see his features. Moving closer, she felt an urge to brush away his bangs to see his eyes more clearly. But as soon as her fingers neared his hair, he dodged.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I want to see your eyes."
"There's nothing worth seeing."
"Let me look."
"I told you there's nothing to see! And I don't like strangers touching my hair."
Biting down on her lower lip, Patricia stood determined, watching him. Without any warning, she lunged into his arms, hugging his waist tightly and resting her ear against his chest.
Just as James was about to pull her away, Patricia spoke. "Don't move. I want to listen to your heartbeat."
James' arm, mid-air, froze.
Surrounded by silence, Patricia could hear the rhythmic, steady thumping of his heart, its sound hammering against her eardrum through the thin layer of his shirt. It felt as if, with the next beat, his heart might leap right out.
That familiar scent and sensation, even the rate of the heartbeat, brought a tide of nostalgia over her. Tears welled up in Patricia's eyes, slipping down her cheeks and dampening his shirt.
James clenched his fists tightly, the strain causing the veins on his hands and arms to stand out sharply. Patricia, unable to move away, greedily savored the sound of his heartbeat.
"Your heartbeat... it's exactly like his... you claim you're not my Martin... but you are him, I can't be mistaken..." she said.
How could she mishear such a thing? People's appearances and personalities can change, but the frequency of a heartbeat is fixed, unchangeable. She had listened to Martin's heartbeat countless times as he slept, her head on his chest, night after night. It was the beat of his heart that lulled her to sleep. How could something so familiar ever be mistaken?
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