After Emma handed the matter over to Liam, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. She turned her attention back to the documents on her desk.
She realized that corporate charity work was different now compared to the past. Liam's plan introduced a new model, one that aimed to achieve poverty alleviation through a targeted approach. It was practical and specific. By focusing on solid construction and management, real development could be achieved, lifting people out of poverty.
The longer she stayed by Liam's side, the more she couldn't help but admire him. He was truly exceptional. It often made her feel small.
It also created a kind of pressure she couldn't ignore. She couldn't help feeling that if she didn't change for the better, the distance between her and Liam would only grow wider.
Even if they were going to divorce in the future, Emma thought, at least during this year with him, she should accomplish something. That way, people wouldn't think she was just a simple rich man's wife.
After all, Emma had never been that kind of naive, sweet woman.
...
"An invitation for me?"
Isabella had just finished a show and was removing her makeup in the dressing room. Her agent handed her two invitation cards. Isabella took them and saw that the invitation was from Amelia.
A flicker of something passed through her eyes.
"Yes. Miss Amelia is opening a coffee shop soon. Remember how you saved her back then? She still remembers your kindness. So she specially invited you to attend the ribbon-cutting on opening day."
The agent didn't notice the subtle change in Isabella's expression and continued speaking.
"The president's sister—even without an invitation, I would have gone. You handle the scheduling for that day." Isabella agreed very readily. Then she looked at the other invitation in her hand, the one from Noah, and couldn't help but let out a cold snort.
"Don't worry, I'll clear your schedule for that day."
The agent left happily. Ever since Isabella became the spokesperson for Milan Fashion House's winter clothing line, her value had increased. Her daily schedule was packed. It was almost full for the entire year, so attending Miss Amelia's coffee shop opening would require setting aside a whole day.
That evening, Liam took Emma to a French restaurant.
Looking at the delicious but overly elaborate French cuisine in front of her, she felt disappointed. While enjoying good food was pleasant, this evening meant she had lost a chance to cook, a chance to wash dishes. That was two thousand one hundred dollars, slipping right through her fingers.
Emma couldn't help thinking he hadn't meant it that way. Little did she know, Liam had simply wanted to reward her for working so hard on learning to make wonton noodles these past few days. But Emma, completely focused on paying off her debt, had misunderstood.
If he had known what was going on in Emma's mind, he wouldn't have been sitting so leisurely in his wide chair, sipping the red wine in his hand.
Halfway through the meal, Emma went to the restroom. While she was washing her hands at the sink, a somewhat familiar female voice came from behind.
"Mrs. Williams."
She turned her head and saw Kennedy, now wearing heavy makeup. Emma nodded in greeting.
"Miss Kennedy, you're here for dinner too."
Emma had a graceful smile on her face. Somehow, she felt that after some time had passed, Kennedy seemed different. The dark makeup seemed to hint at something.
"Maybe Mrs. Williams is just here to eat. But for me, it's not that simple."
Kennedy looked at the beautiful woman in front of her. Her jealousy had never faded. She had intended to just say hello and leave, but seeing Emma, she still let some words slip out.
Maybe it was the reluctance in her heart. She had never been a woman who gave up easily.
"It seems Miss Kennedy is meeting with a client. In that case, I won't disturb you."
After greeting Kennedy, Emma left.
Kennedy watched her graceful, unhurried departure, and a flash of harshness crossed her eyes.
Sooner or later, when she seized Oasis Holdings...
Emma returned to Liam and didn't mention seeing Kennedy. She didn't think it was necessary. Since Kennedy had seen her in this restaurant, she must have seen Liam too.
She hadn't come over to say hello like she used to. Emma guessed she was still wary. So Emma didn't think it was necessary to let Liam know.
But as she was leaving, Emma's eyes inadvertently swept across the restaurant. She saw Kennedy sitting at a table by another window. With a smile on her face, she was chatting with a middle-aged man who, despite his decent suit, was already balding.
The man's eyes kept drifting to Kennedy's chest. Emma looked away in disgust. She turned her head and happened to meet Liam's gaze.
"You saw that?"
Emma asked Liam.
Liam nodded faintly. "Everyone in this world has their own way of living. Before she knew her true background, her life in America was like this. Not completely depraved, but she had her own way of surviving. You might not be used to it. She is."
Liam was clearly aware of Kennedy's life in the United States. A beautiful, poor mixed-race girl. Relying solely on hard work, it was impossible to graduate successfully. Naturally, she had chosen a few acceptable people to maintain certain ambiguous relationships with, using them to get through to graduation.
He thought it was normal.
This was a bit unexpected for Emma. But after all, it had nothing to do with her. The moment she remembered how Kennedy had almost succeeded in setting her up, the rising sympathy disappeared.
"It's snowing."
As she walked out of the restaurant, she felt a coolness on her nose. She looked up and saw snowflakes flying all over the sky. Her mood gradually brightened. She raised her palm to welcome the early snow. Watching the snow-white flakes melt in her hand, she couldn't help but smile.
Liam looked at her, smiling like a child, and a hint of indulgence appeared in his eyes. A light flickered in them.
He wasn't in a hurry to get into the car. Instead, he stood outside the restaurant with her, watching the falling snowflakes, accompanying her to welcome the first snow of this winter.
Just as Emma was enjoying the snowy scenery, the cry of a child nearby caught her attention. She turned to find the source of the sound and saw a little boy, about three or four years old, squatting not far away. He was wiping his eyes with his hands, crying loudly.