Chapter 27
Yes, but the baby was no longer there.
The words burned in Nadia’s throat, but in the end, she didn’t say them.
What would be the point? Would Collum somehow avenge the child?
Yet judging by his reaction, maybe he hadn’t been involved in the drugging at all.
He was the president of Ford Group, after all. No matter how cruel he was, he wouldn’t stoop to plotting against her body like that.
Nadia’s eyes turned red, but she forced a smile and said lightly, “Callum, what makes you think I’d want to have your child? Do you think all the good men in the world are dead?”
Callum’s lips curled into a cold smile.
“Well, since we both seem to agree on that, there’s no point arguing about it. I know Grandpa won’t accept Brittany anytime soon. I’m not asking you to do anything, just don’t…”
Kick her while she’s down.
So that was what this was about. He had come here to plead on behalf of his precious lover.
“Mr. Ford, you’re giving me too much credit. I don’t make a habit of fighting over men. As long as she behaves herself, no one’s coming after her,” Nadia said.
Her gaze was sharp and unwavering.
“I’m
glad you feel that way.”
Callum let out a breath, but oddly, instead of feeling relieved, there was a strange ache in his chest.
“Mr. Ford, it’s late. I’d like to get some sleep,” Nadia said again, her voice clipped.
It was another clear dismissal, but Callum had no intention of leaving.
Annoyed, he yanked off his tie and loosened his collar, exposing a glimpse of his well–defined chest.
Then, with his usual commanding tone, he said, “I’m hungry. Make me something.”
It was the first time in three years he’d ever made such a request.
Nadia froze for a second, a flicker of surprise flashing through her eyes, but it quickly faded, and she returned to her usual detached expression. “There’s not much food here. If you don’t mind, I can make you some pasta with soup,” she said flatly.
“Sure,” he replied simply, curt as always with his words.
Nadia didn’t respond–she just turned and walked into the kitchen.
Callum stepped out onto the balcony.
The night wind carried the distant hum of the city, brushing against him like static.
In the distance, the neon lights of the Ford Group building blinked steadily in the dark, like a sword piercing straight into the city’s heart.
His gaze locked onto a specific section of the building.
From this angle, he could see the exact floor where his office was located.
Too bad she’d probably never know which room, which floor, and which window it was.
She’d never set foot inside his company, not even once.
In the past three years, it was like she’d never truly been a part of his world. But then again, maybe he’d never really opened the door for her to enter.
His expression grew complicated. There was frustration, something unreadable, and a flicker of something even he didn’t fully recognize–regret.
About ten minutes later, Nadia carne out, holding a white bowl in both hands.
Inside was a simple veggie pasta in a light broth. A perfectly fried egg with a golden yolk rested on top, with a few strips of shredded chicken scattered along the
side.
It looked modest, but strangely comforting.
“Not a bad presentation,” Callum commented lightly as he walked over and sat down at the table.
He picked up a pair of utensils and raised a small bite of pasta to his mouth.
The subtle but just right flavor surprised him. Not too salty or too bland.
The pasta was springy, with a clean and delicate broth.
Perhaps it was because he was famished, but he ate quickly, still maintaining an ingrained grace and quiet elegance in every movement.
Nadia stood nearby, silently watching him.
Watching the way he lowered his head over the bowl, her vision blurred for a second.
She suddenly remembered how she used to do the same thing, back when she was studying abroad in Falverta. She would hide in a corner of the library or behind a cafe window, secretly watching him eat.
