Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 210 - - a little anxious

Due to the potent effects of the drug, the boss, after indulging in his desires, kept the girl with him several times throughout the night. The noises only ceased in the middle of the night. After some time, he finally heard the sound of the door opening from within. A pale-faced girl emerged, wrapped in a large men's shirt, trembling.

The girl still had a few tear drops on her face, and her lowered head and posture truly resembled that of the woman by seven parts. Arven quickly instructed someone to fetch a set of clothes for her to change into and then handed her the check that had already been prepared.

"Your family situation has been taken care of. This is your payment."

The girl took the check with trembling hands, her head still lowered, so he couldn't see her expression. But he still coldly reminded her:

"You will be taken abroad. If you have a son, you'll receive additional compensation. But remember..."

His tone suddenly turned cold, and the girl visibly shrank back.

"You must keep this secret as if you were dead!"

Her already trembling body shook even harder, as if it might fall apart at any moment. Arven glanced at her fragile form, irritated, and waved his hand for someone to take her away.

Even the boss, looking at her frightened and weak demeanor, wouldn't fall in love with her. That woman, Cynthia, though also appearing delicate on the outside, had eyes filled with determination and stubbornness.

Her nature, at times, was like an orchid blooming in a secluded valley, releasing a pure fragrance on its own. At other times, she was like the wild grass growing tenaciously in a desert, giving people the courage to never give up and keep moving forward.

Only she could stand with the boss at the peak of this extreme world, smiling at the prosperous world below. If she could fall in love with the boss, it would be a great match, but she just didn't. After four years, he still hadn't moved her heart. How many more four years could the boss waste on her?

Ten months later, a girl gave birth to a son for Quinn on the distant shores of the ocean. After the initial shock and anger, Quinn named the child: Cecilia K. Quinn.

Cecilia... Olive. Even the child's name was subtly and ambiguously connected to the daughter of that woman.

A busy and congested Monday.

In front of the LTC TV station building, a woman in a black trench coat with a leopard-print scarf, holding a handbag in one hand and a laptop in the other, stood quietly in front of the building, looking up at the most famous television station in the city.

"Come on, Cynthia. Come on, Cynthia," she whispered to herself several times. Only then did Cynthia let out a long sigh, her lips curving into a faint smile as she took a step forward and walked towards the building.

She had developed the habit of saying "Come on" to herself every day, and before starting her work, she would think about her little treasure, Olive, which made her feel energized and ready for the day ahead.

Just as she was about to move forward, she suddenly stopped and looked up at the three golden letters again: LTC? LTC? Cynthia stood there, tilting her head, muttering the name of the station where she was going to work.

Realizing what she had just spelled out, she couldn't help but chuckle and shook her head, continuing toward the building. She had to admit, she had quite the wild imagination. But thinking back to the way James had doted on Bonnie at their previous gathering, it wasn't entirely impossible.

It seemed like she would have to ask Bonnie about her relationship with James sometime. She had never delved into it before, afraid to ask in case Bonnie wasn't happy. After all, everything Bonnie had now was the result of Albert's actions.

However, after meeting Bonnie's husband—of course, Bonnie adamantly denied it and introduced him as the Boston station director—Cynthia had an inexplicable good impression of this Boston station director. Deep down, she felt a certain quiet certainty that he could bring Bonnie happiness.

Her department was on the eighth floor. Walking through the lobby and towards the elevator, she had already caught the attention of several people. In a TV station where beautiful women were everywhere, her looks might not stand out as extraordinary.

But she managed to draw people's attention with her fresh, graceful smile and the aura that hovered between that of a girl and a woman. Though Cynthia felt somewhat uncomfortable being observed like this, she still kept a polite smile on her lips.

She looked like an ordinary 24- or 25-year-old office worker, but she carried herself with more grace and composure than the average office worker. People around her began to gossip, wondering which department this new beauty had come from.

She barely managed to escape from the elevator, freeing herself from that group of burning gazes, only to fall into another den of wolves. The Variety Department and the News Department were on the same floor. As she passed the Variety Department, the young men inside, dressed in flashy outfits and trendy fashion, immediately let out a series of whistles.

Then, one by one, they craned their necks to peek at her through the door and windows. There were even two or three good-looking guys who eagerly ran up to her, asking with enthusiasm,

"Hey, beautiful, is there anything we can help you with?"

She smiled helplessly and replied,

"Thank you, but no need!"

One of the golden-haired guys, unwilling to give up, said,

"Then, may I ask which department you're from? Maybe we can have tea during break!"

Cynthia cursed inwardly—flirting, just plain flirting, outright flirting. To be flirted with on her first day at work by these little boys, it was truly unlucky. She was a 28-year-old woman, for goodness' sake! How was it that she could attract the attention of these boys, who looked about 23 or 24? She didn't know whether to be sad or happy about it.

But she also knew that the people in the Variety Department were always like this. Whether in Australia or Japan, their behavior was consistent. Unlike the News Department, which was rigorous and fact-driven, the Variety Department was carefree and sensationalist, aiming to grab attention at all costs.

So, with a polite smile, she answered gently,

"I'm from the News Department."

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Another guy, without hesitation, asked,

"Whoa, I heard a new producer is coming to the News Department. It wouldn't happen to be you, would it?"

Cynthia smiled and was about to answer when another guy, giving her a once-over, shook his head,

"Probably not. I think anyone who could be a producer must be a 40- to 50-year-old, strict, no-nonsense type of woman!"

Cynthia's face instantly darkened as she was left speechless, caught between laughing and crying. The first guy, still acting carefree, grinned and said,

"Hey, beautiful, how about leaving your number? We can grab dinner tonight?"

Cynthia's lips curled into a distant smile, and she politely spoke,

"Sorry, I have to go home to be with my daughter after work."

Then, with an elegant turn, she walked toward the News Department, leaving behind three young men with shocked expressions on their faces and the sound of things crashing to the floor behind her.

The smile on Cynthia's face grew even more pronounced. It felt quite nice to mess around like this occasionally, though she couldn't really call it messing around. She had spoken the truth; she really did need to go home and spend time with Olive after work.

Standing at the door of the News Department office, she raised her hand to check the time. After being delayed by those little boys, it was almost 8:30. She decided not to go into the News Department just yet and went straight to the conference room next door. Bonnie had mentioned that the first thing they would do today was an introductory meeting in the conference room.

When she was in Australia, she liked to arrive early to the selection meetings, sitting in the conference room with her own computer, browsing news online to stay up-to-date with the latest developments.

By the time it was 8:30, people started trickling into the conference room. Everyone noticed her sitting by the door, but no one took her for the new producer. The reason was probably the same as with the three young men earlier—she was just too young.

Bonnie hadn't arrived yet, so Cynthia wasn't in a rush to introduce herself. She continued quietly browsing the web. However, as it neared 9:00 and Bonnie still hadn't shown up, she couldn't help but feel a little anxious.

Just as she was about to stand up and introduce herself, Bonnie hurriedly walked in. Before Cynthia could say anything, a sharp, cutting voice rang out,

"Well, Bonnie, it's one thing to be late by ten or twenty minutes every day, but today you're half an hour late? Isn't that a bit too arrogant?"