Chapter 3 Difficult

Cathy's gaze lingered on Angela and Lucas as they left.

He didn't ask Angela to push his wheelchair-his assistant did it instead.

Cathy recalled how Lucas's mother had previously picked out a high-end, intelligent electric wheelchair for him. With just the movement of a finger, he could direct it anywhere he wanted.

Smart, convenient, effortless.

But Lucas refused it. He had said, Let Cathy push me.

For a while, no matter where Cathy was, the moment Lucas called, she had to rush back to push his wheelchair.

Even if it was just from the bedroom to the study.

It had been a way to torment her-naturally, he wouldn't subject his beloved to the same.

Cathy returned to her office.

Her assistant, Daisy, had been waiting, fuming as she whispered, "Sister Cathy, while you were gone, President Wilson told me to pass a message-he wants you to give the luxury endorsement you just secured to Angela."

Cathy's brows furrowed.

Daisy grumbled, "You worked so hard, traveling to France multiple times to negotiate this deal. Plus, you promised this endorsement to Alan as part of his contract. Even if President Wilson wants to please his little girlfriend, he can't just do this..."

No one in the company knew that Cathy was Lucas's wife.

But everyone knew that three years ago, Angela had been his.

Cathy changed course. "I'll go talk to President Wilson."

His office was just a few steps away on the same floor.

As she reached the door, she overheard their conversation inside.

Angela's voice was choked with tears. "No matter what, even if they put a gun to my head this time, I won't leave you again."

Lucas chuckled softly, comforting her. "With me here, let's see who dares put a gun to your head."

"But I have no rightful place..."

Lucas replied carelessly, "Then I'll make it rightful."

Perhaps the surprise came too fast, because Angela sounded astonished. "Really?"

Cathy neither knocked nor interrupted their syrupy reunion.

She had no interest in hearing her husband use divorce as a way to pacify another woman.

But his voice turned sharp and cold, calling her in.

"Get in here."

Angela, startled to discover someone had been "eavesdropping," gasped as she scrambled up from the floor-she had been crouching beside Lucas's legs, talking to him.

Cathy exhaled slowly and pushed open the door.

Angela flustered. "Oh, Mrs. Green! Are you here to see Lucas?"

Cathy ignored her and looked straight at Lucas, who was sitting by the floor-to-ceiling window.

She got straight to the point. "President Wilson, I've already promised the luxury endorsement to Alan as a signing condition. I can't give it to Miss Angela."

Lucas sat in his wheelchair, a black woolen blanket draped over his legs. His gaze was cold as he met Cathy's eyes.

The moment their eyes locked, tension crackled in the air.

It was Angela who broke the silence first, speaking considerately, "Lucas, since it's already been given to someone else, I shouldn't take it. Let's not make Mrs. Green's job difficult."

Lucas's tone softened as he replied, "Star Media was built for you. Whatever resources you want, they're yours."

Who wouldn't be moved by words like these?

Tears welled up in Angela's eyes. As if no one else was present, she murmured, "Lucas, thank you."

Cathy thought that if she weren't here, Angela would probably have thrown herself into Lucas's arms in gratitude.

After reassuring his beloved, Lucas finally turned his piercing gaze toward Cathy, his voice pressing down on her.

"Is it difficult?"

Yes.

Without Alan, her negotiations would fall through. Several finalized projects would need replacements, and those replacements might not achieve Alan's impact-potentially leading to losses.

The brand had also specifically wanted Alan. Swapping him for Angela would be hard to justify.

But before Cathy could formulate a response, Lucas cut her off.

"If you can do it, do it. If you can't, then don't bother being vice president anymore."

As expected, he didn't care about her predicament.

After a long silence, Cathy finally replied in a voice that was eerily calm.

"I'll follow President Wilson's instructions."