Chapter 298

Business was booming at VelaCore-the aftershocks of the lingerie show still sending waves through the store. The floor bustled with eager shoppers, and every staff member moved with a sense of urgency, arms full and smiles barely contained.

From the fourth-floor gallery, Hannah lingered at the railing, her gaze sweeping the vibrant scene below. She let a satisfied smile play/ on her lips, savoring the energy crackling through the air.

Someone called her name, warm and steady, "Hannah."

Claude had materialized at her side, drawn in as soon as he'd heard she was in the building.

His smile was calm, perfectly curated for the moment. "The whole store feels electric.Congratulations-the show was a real triumph."

She turned to himn, her own smile gentle but genuine. "Thank you, Claude. I owe a lot to you. I never could've pulled this off alone."

She knew Claude's influence had woven through every phase of Metamorphosis, his connections and resources proving invaluable.

He stepped closer, his presence casually encroaching on her space. His eyes drifted, landing on the phone she'd placed on the gallery's railing.

The screen glowed with an unread message. "Emergency meeting added. Dinner was pushed back 30minutes. Be there on time." Vincent's name was front and center.

Claude's smile flickered, barely perceptible, before he masked it beneath practiced calm. Dinner plans with Vincent?

He forced himself to hold the smile, just a heartbeat too long, his jaw tightening as he looked away-studying the bustling crowd below as if it demanded his attention.

"Your new feature piece looks incredible down there," he remarked, chin lifting toward the display. His voice was even, but a subtle edge crept in. "That design... definitely takes guts."

Unaware of the shift in his mood, Hannah followed his line of sight. "Yeah, our designer really nailed it this season," she said, letting a casual note slip into her voice.

She scooped up her phone, skimmed the message on the glowing screen, tapped out a brisk reply, and then tucked it away without missing a beat.

Claude's sharp eyes missed nothing. Her reply to Vincent's message hit him hard: she was planning to see Vincent. Jealousy burned through him, quick and silent.

Hannah checked her watch and then offered him a brisk, professional smile. "I've still got a few things to sort out in the store. Claude, catch you later."

His response stayed perfectly cordial. "Of course. Don't let me keep you."

As soon as she turned the corner, the last trace of warmth vanished from his expression. His jaw tightened,and his eyes hardened to steel.

Storming back to his office, Claude's entire demeanor shifted in aninstant-like flicking off a light. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing away any hint of softness.

A violent crash split the air-he flung his coffee cup across the room, sending porcelain shards skittering across the floor.

He snatched up the pen holder next, hurling it so hard against the wall that pens rained down in every direction.

With a sweep of his arm, he sent stacks of carefully organized documents flying, scattering papers like a burst of feathers.

Within seconds, the office atmosphere shattered into wild disorder.

Claude braced himself against the desk, shoulders hunched, breath ragged-each inhale sharp with barely contained rage.

He had clawed his way to the very top of Fontaine Galleria, commanding respect and envy in equal measure -yet somehow, in Hannah's life, he still came second to Vincent. How could he accept it?

A sharp knock interrupted his brooding. On the other side of the door, his assistant Owen Huxley's voice filtered in, tentative and careful. "Mr. Hobbes? Your antacid just arrived, and I also had some soup brought up. You should eat something while it's still warm-you skipped lunch today."

Claude's punishing work ethic was infamous-so relentless that skipping meals had long since become routine. The years of neglect had left him with a chronic ulcer, a price he barely acknowledged.

Owen walked in, placing the medicine and the soup on Claude's desk.

Claude didn't bother answering. Instead, his hand shot out-not to take the soup, but to shove it violently aside.

The container struck the plush carpet with a heavy thud, splashing soup everywhere.

Owen recoiled, his eyes widening in alarm.

Claude's attention zeroed in on the blister pack of pills lying amid the mess. Not missing a beat, he snatched it up and, with a flick of his wrist, hurled the brand-new pack of stomach meds straight into the wastebasket. The gesture was swift, final.

"Mr. Hobbes!" Owen's voice cracked as he paled. "You can't just blow off your medication-especially with your condition!"

Claude's posture wavered, just for a heartbeat, before he leveled a frigid stare at Owen. "That's exactly what I'm going to do."

His gaze lingered on Owen's tense face, cold and unwavering, before he tossed out. "Be sure Ms. Scott 'accidentally' finds out my ulcer strikes."

Claude's jaw tightened as he bit out the word"accidentally." "Bring me a bottle of liquor. The strongest you've got," he added, his tone brooking no argument.

"Right away." Owen kept his head down, offering no protest as he dispatched the janitor to handle the wreckage.

Then,following Claude's orders, Owen quietly sent two employees from Fontaine Galleria over to Hannah's store.During idle conversation, they"casually" dropped that Claude's stomach condition had flared up again-worse than ever-and that he was flat-out refusing his medication.

Upon learning this, Hannah tried to reach Claude several times, but every call went unanswered. Anxious,she abandoned everything and hurried to his office. The instant she stepped inside, her breath caught in her throat-Claude lay curled up on the couch, soaked in cold sweat, barely clinging to consciousness.

Hannah didn't hesitate. She gathered him in her arms and rushed him straight to the hospital, the dinner arrangement she'd made with Vincent vanishing from her mind entirely.