The man on the other end of the line seemed struck dumb by the word "hubby." Silence stretched between them, heavy and absolute.
Diana's heart skipped a beat. Crap. I pushed it too far.
For this little drama to work, she needed him to play along. If William Knight stayed silent, she'd be the laughingstock of the office. A man of his stature—a titan looking down from the clouds—would never stoop so low as to play the "shield" in some cheap office spat. She cursed her impulsive streak; she should have just hung up.
Just as she was about to stammer out an excuse and disconnect, William's voice crackled through the receiver. It was deep, cool, and carried a nearly imperceptible trace of raspiness. "I'm here, Miss Bell."
The clouds parted; the rain stopped. Diana was back in the game.
She flipped the switch to "Oscar-winning actress" mode instantly. Transforming into a love-struck bride, she pitched her voice into a sugary, honey-thick coo: "Hubby, you have to be a good boy in Beijing, okay? Take care of yourself. When you get back, I'll personally make you some noodles."
There was a half-second pause on William's end before a low, steady reply: "Alright."
Having flaunted her "devotion," Diana's eyes darted toward Boss Archer, whose face had turned the color of wet ash. She pivoted to the role of the aggrieved victim. "Hubby, Boss Archer and his wife were just being so mean to me. They said they'd throw my whole family in prison. I'm so scared, my heart is racing..."
William's voice traveled across the distance, chillingly calm and layered with an undeniable authority. "Since when is my wife someone for outsiders to intimidate? Atticus Archer, do you think the Knight Group's legal department has too much free time on its hands?"
Boss Archer's knees buckled. He had to grab the edge of his mahogany desk to keep from collapsing. His wife—the woman with the perm—was shaking so hard her designer handbag slipped from her grip and hit the floor. The arrogance she'd worn moments ago had vanished into thin air.
"Lord Knight! It's a misunderstanding! A total misunderstanding!" Archer stammered, bowing repeatedly to the phone as if William could see him. "I truly didn't know Miss Bell was your wife! If I had known, I wouldn't have dared—not in a million years! It's all my fault. Miss Bell and her family won't have a lick of trouble, I swear. Let's just wipe the slate clean... no, wait, I must apologize in person!"
Once the call ended, Diana watched the two of them trembling like leaves in a storm. The bitterness she'd bottled up for three years finally began to evaporate.
She idly inspected her nails. "And about my salary and bonuses..."
"Paid! Every cent! At the highest possible rate!" Archer scrambled to process the bank transfer himself.
If the "Perm Lady" hadn't made such a scene today, that money would have likely been nickeled and dimed to death. Looking at the confirmation text on her phone, Diana couldn't help but think: William Knight is one hell of an umbrella to stand under.
The Archers huddled in the corner, praying for this "Goddess of Calamity" to leave, but Diana paused at the door. She looked down at her torn collar, her gaze turning icy.
"Wait. This dress is a limited edition. You ruined it. I'll be taking compensation for emotional distress and wardrobe replacement."
The wife didn't dare argue. "Miss Bell... how much?"
It was actually a twenty-dollar find from a street stall. Diana didn't blink. "Two thousand dollars. Non-negotiable."
Less than a minute later, the money hit her account. Diana grabbed a stapler from a nearby desk, "click-clicked" her collar back into a semblance of decency, and led Noah Bell out with her head held high.
She walked away with a sharp, graceful stride, her red skirt swaying like a rose in the wind. Behind her, the office staff watched in stunned silence. In the corporate world, once you burn the bridge, you don't look back.
Beijing, Wangfujing Street
Dawn was breaking, and the atmosphere in the boardroom was lethal. William Knight sat at the head of the table, flanked by financial elites from around the globe.
The executives were braced for a slaughter. Lord Knight was notoriously cold, a perfectionist who didn't tolerate even a grain of sand in his gears. But strangely, ever since he'd returned from that phone call, the darkness in his expression had lifted. There was even the faint, ghostly trace of a curve at the corner of his lips.
The man who usually tore reports to shreds actually listened to every long-winded presentation—and didn't fire a single soul.
After the meeting, his assistant followed him out, whispering cautiously, "Lord Knight, you've been working for twenty hours straight. What can I get you for breakfast? I can call in a Michelin chef."
William didn't slow his pace. He uttered a single word: "Noodles."
The assistant blinked. William was usually incredibly strict about carbs, let alone pasta. "Pasta? Or perhaps a chilled French noodle dish?"
"Chinese soup noodles. Hand-pulled."
It took the assistant a long time to source a bowl of beef noodles.
But William took only one bite before setting the chopsticks down. It wasn't the right taste. That "flavor" he'd heard over the phone—the one wrapped in soft, flirtatious undertones—was something no professional chef could replicate.
The restlessness in his chest was becoming impossible to ignore.
"Book a flight. We're going back."
The assistant nearly dropped his tablet. "Lord Knight, the Beijing merger has just started. You were scheduled to be here for six months..."
William glanced at him, his eyes sharp and cold. "Do I need to clear my itinerary with you?"
The assistant broke into a cold sweat. "Of course not. Shall I book for tomorrow morning?"
"Now. Immediately."
Even if he had to cross half the planet, he wanted to see exactly how this "Miss Bell"—the woman who dared to tease him—planned to "personally make him noodles."
Back home, the first thing Diana did was transfer the fresh cash to the nursing home.
Savings were like sand through an hourglass; no sooner did she have them than they were gone. She sighed, resigned to her fate, and opened her laptop to sift through job listings.
Noah leaned over. "Sis, the job market is brutal. What if I end up unemployed forever?"
Diana didn't look up from her water. "Don't flatter yourself. Unemployment requires you to have had a job in the first place. With your brain, you're destined to work until the day you die. The universe isn't going to gift you a life of leisure."
Noah scratched his head, considering this. "True. I do have 'workhorse' written all over me."
"Since you've accepted your fate, go do these practice problems." Like a magician, Diana pulled a stack of mock exams from her bag. "And these sixty extra sets are your 'reward.'"
Noah collapsed onto the floor in a theatrical display of heartbreak.
To soothe her brother's shattered soul, Diana sucked it up and ordered him a fancy coffee with extra toppings through an app.
Over the next two days, Diana went into "beast mode" with interviews. Armed with a degree from a good university and a stellar resume, she quickly gained the upper hand with several top-tier firms.
On the third afternoon, she finished a grueling salary negotiation and stepped out of the office building only to get a call from Catherine Archer.
"Diana, did that guy from the blind date like you? A man with his assets is a catch, even if he is a divorcee."
Diana hopped onto her electric scooter, let out a dry laugh. "A catch? Then give him to Aurora Stone. Don't think I don't know what you're up to. You want to use my marriage as a stepping stone for her? Dream on."
Catherine shrieked through the phone, "You ungrateful girl! With your reputation, you're lucky anyone wants you! If you married him, Aurora's company could get a secondary agency contract with the Knight Group..."
"That's your problem, not my life." Diana hung up and blocked the number.
The setting sun stretched her shadow across the pavement. She rode her scooter back to their dilapidated neighborhood, noticing a crowd of old ladies gossiping near the entrance of Building 13.
"Goodness, look at that logo. Two Rs... that's a Rolls-Royce!" "Who struck gold? That car's been sitting there for three hours, and nobody's come out."
Diana ignored them, her mind busy calculating next month's rent.
She parked her scooter and grabbed a plastic bag containing some tomatoes and a pack of dried noodles she'd bought on the way. Just as she reached the stairwell—
"Diana Bell."
The voice was unmistakable. Low, resonant, like the pull of a cello string—it sounded completely out of place in this noisy, crumbling complex.
Diana froze. She turned around.
The door of the Rolls-Royce slid open silently. William Knight stepped out. He hadn't changed; he was still in that same sharp, expensive suit. The dim streetlights caught the deep, artistic lines of his profile.
The plastic bag slipped from Diana's hand with a thud. A round tomato rolled across the pavement, coming to a stop against William's polished leather shoe.
William leaned down, his long fingers retrieving the tomato. As he handed it back, his cool fingertips brushed against her palm, sending a jolt of electricity through her.
"You... aren't you supposed to be in meetings at Wangfujing Street?" Diana stammered.
William watched her, a dark, unreadable depth in his eyes. "The meetings are over."
Diana couldn't quite wrap her head around it. "So... you flew back specifically for some emergency contract?"
"No contract." William leaned in slightly, his presence warm and overwhelming. "You said you'd make me noodles when I got back. I'm here for the noodles."