In the purest intention, Victor had missed this embrace more than he could admit—this warmth, this tender, tiny body that had endured so much to give him warmth and keep him alive when he needed it most.
He still couldn't believe that he had fallen in love so deeply with this woman, this extraordinary woman whom he believed his late mother had somehow guided into his life. They had gone through so much together yet it had only been exactly two weeks since they first crossed paths at the charity auction.
As his arms tightened around Kaylee’s delicate frame, Victor allowed himself to release the longing he had tried so hard to suppress. He feared crossing boundaries, afraid of scaring her away, but right now, a simple hug was all he needed.
Kaylee had yearned for a hug like this for seven long years. At this moment, she let go of the careful facade she had maintained as a dignified young woman and surrendered to her true self, embracing the deep-seated desire to be loved.
Just as they began to lose themselves in this precious, quiet moment, the sharp buzz of Victor's phone shattered the silence. He flinched as though the device had physically struck him. Kaylee reluctantly loosened her hold, stepping back with a slight smile—a smile that conveyed both understanding and the quiet resignation that perhaps God knew just when to intervene and keep them in the right place.
With a sigh, Victor pulled the phone from his pocket, offering Kaylee an apologetic look. "I’m so sorry, Kaylee. Let me just..." His eyes flicked to the screen, recognizing Hann's name flashing insistently.
"Of all the times," he muttered, knowing that Hann wouldn’t call at this hour unless it was urgent. Taking a deep breath, he answered the call. "Hann, this better be good."
"President Vic, I apologize for the late call. I’ve just finalized the signing of the partnership agreement with Robert Chee." Victor was on the brink of snapping at Hann for such a trivial update at the worst possible moment when he noticed something in Hann’s voice—an unusual heaviness. It wasn’t the exhaustion or relief Victor expected after dealing with the notoriously difficult Miss Joyce Chee. No, this was something else, something unfamiliar.
Before Victor could find the right words, perhaps to offer comfort—yes, he felt an unexpected urge to console him—Hann spoke again, his voice even more subdued. "I apologize for the one-day delay from your deadline. My attempt to meet Miss Joyce yesterday didn’t go smoothly..." A tinge of guilt laced Hann’s words, leaving Victor to wonder what exactly had transpired.
Over two hours earlier, outside the entrance of the exclusive restaurant where he was meeting Joyce Chee, Hann had adjusted his tie for what felt like the hundredth time. He had spent the entire day mentally preparing for what was supposed to be a straightforward business dinner. But knowing Miss Joyce—or the version of her he had constructed in his mind—he wasn’t sure anything would be straightforward. He sighed, trying to suppress the annoyance that had been building ever since President Victor had sent him on this mission. Just get the deal done and go home, he reminded himself.
When Joyce finally arrived, Hann felt an unexpected pang of guilt. She was dressed elegantly in a deep red dress that struck the perfect balance between bold and modest, complementing her bubbly personality. Her smile lit up her face as she greeted him, her eyes sparkling with excitement. It was clear she had put a lot of effort into her appearance tonight.
"Mr. Hann! It’s so wonderful to see you!" Joyce chirped, her voice warm and genuine.
Hann forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as stiff as it felt. "Miss Joyce, thank you for meeting me tonight. Shall we?" He gestured toward the entrance, eager to get the evening over with.
As they were seated, Joyce launched into a lively conversation about her day, her words flowing like a rapid stream. Hann listened politely, his responses limited to nods and the occasional “I see.” He tried to focus on the task at hand—the partnership agreement—but found it difficult as Joyce's enthusiasm radiated from every word she spoke.
The waiter arrived, interrupting Joyce’s tale about a stray cat she had encountered earlier. Hann quickly ordered a steak, medium rare, while Joyce excitedly requested the restaurant’s signature heart-shaped tiramisu for dessert—a choice that Hann mentally noted to avoid.
"So, Miss Joyce," Hann began, steering the conversation back to the reason they were there. "About the partnership agreement. I believe we’ve ironed out most of the details, but there are a few clauses I’d like to review with you."
Joyce’s expression remained bright as she nodded, but Hann noticed a flicker of something more serious in her eyes—perhaps a hint of sadness or understanding that this dinner was not the romantic date she might have hoped for. "Of course, Mr. Hann. I brought the documents with me," she said, pulling a neatly organized folder from her bag.
Hann went through the motions, explaining the finer points of the agreement, while Joyce listened attentively, occasionally asking insightful questions that caught him off guard. He had expected her to be less focused, more caught up in the idea of spending time with him than in the business at hand. But Joyce was proving to be more capable and serious than he had anticipated and given her credit for.
As they continued discussing the details, Joyce’s demeanor remained professional, though her eyes occasionally betrayed her true feelings. Hann could tell she was still hopeful, still trying to impress him—not just as a businesswoman, but as a young woman who cared for him. Yet, there was a quiet dignity in the way she carried herself, never once pushing too far, never once letting her bubbly personality overshadow her intelligence.
Halfway through the dinner, as they waited for their main course, Joyce suddenly paused, her eyes softening as she looked at Hann. "Mr. Hann, may I say something personal?" she asked, her voice gentle and sincere.
Hann tensed slightly, unsure of where this was going, but he nodded. "Of course."
Joyce took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly as she folded them on the table. "I know you might not see me as anything more than a business partner, and I understand that. But I just wanted you to know that... I’ve always admired you. Not just for your work, but for who you are. I respect you, Mr. Hann. And even if you don’t feel the same way about me, I want you to know that."
Hann was taken aback by the sincerity in her voice. He had expected something more forward, something that would make him cringe, but her words were gentle, almost melancholic. For a moment, he felt a pang of guilt for dismissing her so easily in his mind, for assuming she was just a naive girl with a crush.
"Miss Joyce..." Hann began, unsure of what to say. He wanted to remain professional, but something about the way she looked at him—so hopeful, yet so resigned—tugged at his heart.
His pause lasted a little longer than Joyce expected, and before he could continue, the waiter arrived with their meals, breaking the moment. Joyce smiled politely and thanked the waiter, though Hann noticed that her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes this time. She picked at her food, clearly trying to keep up her cheerful facade, but there was an undeniable sadness in her demeanor now.
As the dinner went on, Hann found himself increasingly distracted by Joyce’s quiet grace. Despite her clear disappointment, she remained engaged in their conversation, asking him about his interests, his work, and even his hobbies. She laughed at his dry humor, showing genuine interest in everything he said. For the first time, Hann realized that Joyce wasn’t just an overly enthusiastic young woman with a crush—she was someone who truly cared about him as a person. The Miss Joyce Chee who was once just a naive girl had now grown into a capable young businesswoman.
Then came the dessert. The infamous heart-shaped tiramisu was placed between them, and Hann braced himself for the worst. But instead of making a big deal out of it, Joyce simply smiled and offered him a spoon. "It’s their specialty. I thought you might like to try it."
Hann hesitated, then accepted the spoon she offered. He couldn’t help but notice the slight tremble in her hand as she handed it to him. As they ate, he found himself stealing glances at her, noticing the way her face lit up whenever she talked about something she loved, and the way she carefully chose her words whenever she addressed him, as if she was afraid of saying the wrong thing.
When the dinner finally came to an end, Hann felt a strange mix of relief and something else—something that made his heart beat just a little faster whenever he looked at Joyce. As they signed the final documents, Hann found himself lingering over her signature, his heart unexpectedly fluttering at the sight of her neat handwriting.
Joyce stood up, gathering her things with a sad but sincere smile. "Thank you for tonight, Mr. Hann. It was… a pleasure working with you."
Hann opened his mouth to say something—anything—to ease the sadness in her eyes. But before he could find the words, Joyce turned to leave. "Goodnight, Mr. Hann," she said softly, her voice breaking just the tiniest bit as she turned away.
Hann watched her go, a strange ache settling in his chest. For the first time, he felt a pang of regret—a regret that he had been so focused on keeping things strictly professional that he hadn’t realized how much she cared, and how much he might have hurt her with his coldness.
As Joyce walked out of the restaurant, she kept her head high, but as soon as she stepped outside, tears she had been holding back began to spill down her cheeks. She wiped them away quickly, not wanting anyone to see her cry, but the sadness was overwhelming.
She had prayed so hard, so sincerely, for Mr. Hann to notice her, to care for her the way she cared for him. She had admired him for three years, ever since she started joining her father for business events and met Mr. Hann Louis, the famous representative and personal assistant of the mysterious President Victor Langford of the Langford Group.
Ever since then, she had worked hard to improve her business acumen with her father's help, hoping to one day be worthy of standing by Mr. Hann's side as his right-hand woman, or... as Mrs. Hann Louis.
When she was younger, she had been more daring, even inviting Mr. Hann for coffee several times, which he had apologetically declined. She was only 20 years old at the time. Those attempts had become the talk of the elite circles, teasing her for her innocence and naivety in trying to win over the highly regarded personal assistant of the Langford Group’s president. After a gentle reprimand from her father, she stopped those reckless moves and focused on developing her business capabilities, hoping to one day be more attractive to Mr. Hann.
It had been three solid years of effort. When she received the call from Mr. Hann on Wednesday, inviting her to a dinner to discuss and finalize the partnership agreement on premium fabric supply between her father's company and the Langford Group, she had been out of town. She did everything she could to rush back, securing the Friday dinner appointment with Mr. Hann. But tonight had shown her the harsh reality—Mr. Hann might never see her as anything more than a business partner, if even that.
When she got home, she collapsed onto her bed, the tears flowing freely now. She had tried so hard to remain dignified, to keep her spirits up, but the pain of realizing that her prayers might never be answered was too much to bear. She pulled out the relationship guide for Christians that she had been following so faithfully, the book she had carefully selected at the Christian bookstore before bumping into Kaylee at the paying queue earlier this week. Her heart was breaking as she thought of all the hopes she had placed in those prayers. Maybe everyone had been right; maybe Mr. Hann wasn’t the one for her after all.
But what Joyce didn’t know was that as she left the restaurant, Hann had remained by the window, watching her go, his heart beating faster than it ever had before. For the first time in his life, he felt something more than just duty, more than just professionalism. He felt a stirring in his chest—a warmth that spread through him as he thought of Miss Joyce’s kindness, her sincerity, her unwavering belief in him, and her... unique attractiveness. Yes, he couldn’t deny that he had started to find her attractive, a realization that deeply surprised him.
As Hann turned away from the window, he realized that something had changed tonight. His heart, once so cold and unyielding, had begun to thaw. And as much as he tried to push the feeling away, he knew deep down that he had started to like Miss Joyce Chee in a way he never expected.
"Are you okay?" Victor's voice, unusually gentle over the phone, pulled Hann back from his wandering thoughts. Victor had always been a cold and strict superior, known for his tough demeanor in the office. But Hann knew that beneath that exterior, his boss was quietly considerate and protective of his employees, even if he rarely showed it. Still, this was the first time Victor had expressed direct concern for Hann, and it struck a chord with him.
He couldn't deny that his boss had become more humane and approachable since Miss Stone entered his life.
"Nothing, boss. It's just... I think I might have hurt Miss Joyce's feelings," Hann confessed, his voice tinged with regret. "I was trying to keep a distance from her friendliness, to avoid giving her the wrong impression, but now... I’m not so sure." His thoughts were tangled, and Victor, sensing this, remained patient, offering silent support.
Hann sighed softly, his resignation evident. "Never mind. I just wanted to let you know the agreement was signed. Have a good rest, boss."
Victor, who knew Hann well, understood that what Hann needed most right now was space—and someone to listen when he was ready to talk more.
"You take care too. Good night, Hann," Victor replied, his tone softening.
Throughout the call, Kaylee had been quietly observing Victor, noticing the subtle changes in his expression as he spoke with Hann. When Victor ended the call, he turned to her, a trace of apology in his eyes.
"Sorry..." he began, still feeling guilty for the interruption.
Kaylee smiled warmly. "Don’t be. How’s Hann? He didn’t sound like he was okay."
Victor briefly recounted the task he had assigned to Hann and shared the story of Hann and Joyce Chee. Kaylee listened intently, her concern for Joyce growing. She made a mental note to reach out to Joyce the next day.
After they exchanged goodnights, Kaylee thanked Victor once more for the beautiful gown and the lovely evening he had arranged for Xiang Er and Gavin.
Victor watched as she entered her room, and once her door closed, he sighed at the memory of their interrupted hug. Still, it had been a good night overall. A bittersweet smile played on his lips as he walked back to his room, reflecting on the connection that had begun to grow between them.
***
After returning home, Hann loosened his tie and tossed his keys onto the table, his mind replaying the evening’s events like a film stuck on a loop. Normally, after a business dinner, he would simply file away the experience, mentally check off another task completed, and move on to the next. But tonight was different. Tonight, he couldn’t seem to shake the image of Miss Joyce Chee from his mind.
He walked over to the couch and sank down into it, rubbing his temples. What is wrong with me? he wondered, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. But every time he tried to push Joyce from his thoughts, she slipped back in—her bright smile, the way she’d carefully chosen her words, the soft tremble in her voice when she’d spoken from her heart.
As he absentmindedly scrolled through his phone, he found himself searching for answers. Why can’t I stop thinking about her? Reading through articles and quizzes, Hann was stunned by the realization that crept over him—he had developed feelings for Miss Joyce Chee.
This revelation stirred memories from three years ago, when a younger, more eager Joyce had tried to connect with him. He had dismissed her as naive, blind to the effort and sincerity she poured into her gestures—bringing him coffee during long meetings, showing genuine interest in his work, and her constant willingness to help. He had brushed her off time and again, thinking her advances were nothing more than a fleeting crush. True enough, Joyce didn’t approach him directly anymore over the next two years. But when he reached out to invite her to dinner on Wednesday, she gladly accepted, though she requested to defer it to tonight instead.
Though the dinner was framed as a discussion to finalize the partnership agreement with her father’s company, Hann knew he had taken advantage of her attentiveness to make the task easier for himself. Now, he saw the truth: Joyce had always cared for him deeply, and he had coldly pushed her away.
Hann’s chest tightened as he recalled all the moments he had dismissed Joyce, all the times he had thought she was just being silly or immature. He had been so focused on his own life, his own goals, that he had failed to see the quiet strength and maturity in Joyce. And tonight, during their dinner, he had witnessed that same strength again—the way she had maintained her dignity even when it was clear she was hurting, the way she had thanked him so sincerely despite the sadness in her eyes.
He remembered the recent charity auction, when he had randomly spotted her in the crowd. She was standing there, simply looking at him, and when their eyes met, there was a brief moment of panic in her gaze before she quickly gave him a respectful smile and looked away, embarrassed at being caught.
Guilt washed over him as he realized just how much he had overlooked. It was a long night for Hann, as he tossed and turned, struggling to find sleep.
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