Lost and Found

The butler reminded us that dinner was ready downstairs.

I pulled away from Julian’s embrace and instinctively reached to push his wheelchair.

Yet he had already stood up using his cane.

I flushed crimson with sudden embarrassment, a wave of inexplicable vexation rising within me.

Because of my obsession with career advancement, I truly had neglected him far too much.

“If you’re uncomfortable, you should still use the wheelchair.”

“It’s fine, a man always has to force himself to stand up sooner or later.”

I supported him downstairs, and the moment we stepped into the dining room, we spotted Vivienne standing quietly off to the side.

The young girl’s eyes were as red as a rabbit’s; seeing us come down, she instinctively made a move to step forward and assist Julian.

But the second her eyes met mine, she flinched in absolute terror and scrambled backward in panic.

Noticing this, Julian smiled and spoke up: “Don’t take your mistress’s words to heart, she was just joking.”

I knitted my brows slightly.

The sense of unease that had just been suppressed welled up in full force once more.

Julian took my hand, turning to Vivienne with a solemn expression: “However, from now on, if my wife and I are talking inside the study, remember to knock first.”

“Understood, Mr. Julian!”

Vivienne was instantly pacified by Julian’s two sentences, her face blooming once again with an energetic, pure, and bright smile.

During dinner, she attentively scooped rice and ladled soup for Julian, practically falling just short of feeding him directly with her own hands.

The meal tasted like ash in my mouth, heavy and suffocating in my chest.

I casually set my cutlery down.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m full. The company still has some urgent matters to handle, so I’ll be leaving first.”

“Weren’t you just recently back from abroad?”

“Precisely because I just returned, there’s a mountain of mess waiting for me.”

I stood up, intent on leaving.

Julian abruptly stood up as well, but in his haste, his foot clipped the edge of the dining table.

“Julian!”

Instinctively, I moved to support him, only to be violently shoved aside by Vivienne standing right beside him.

“Get away! It’s all because of you that Mr. Julian got hurt!”

“Mr. Julian, are you alright? Your leg injury hasn’t healed yet, let me take a look!”

Panicking to the verge of tears, the young girl clumsily steadied Julian, helping him sit back down with utmost care.

Watching this scene, my frustration soared to new heights, my fingernails digging painfully into my palms.

Julian gently pushed Vivienne away as she hovered anxiously in front of him.

“Company matters may be important, but you shouldn’t overwork yourself to this extent.”

I gave a perfunctory nod, practically fleeing the house.

From behind came Vivienne’s soft, sugary voice: “Mr. Julian, eat a little more, please let me accompany you for dinner just like before.”

The courtyard gates slid shut behind me, cutting off those two frustrating figures.

Sitting inside the car, I massaged my throbbing temples.

Over the years, my emotional composure had long since been honed to the point where joy and anger never surfaced on my face, yet a mere junior assistant named Vivienne had repeatedly made me lose my temper.

Looking at the scenery flashing backward outside the window, my mind raced with calculated plots.

I was an ambitious careerist cultivated directly by Julian’s own hands.

Even if a divorce was inevitable, I was going to fight tooth and nail to maximize my own interests.

My family background wasn’t entirely destitute, but compared to an elite financial conglomerate like Julian’s family, it paled into utter insignificance.

Back then, less than seventy days after my mother passed away, my father brazenly brought his mistress and illegitimate son home.

Not only did he feel zero remorse for betraying our family, but he also seized the opportunity to ruthlessly usurp power, completely renaming our family enterprise—formerly the Hank Corporation—into the Song Corporation.

My father was a textbook misogynistic patriarch who completely ignored my existence, channeling every single corporate resource into grooming his precious golden son.

In his eyes, I was nothing more than a convenient bargaining chip to be bartered away through a political marriage.

I refused to resign to fate, nor was I willing to watch my mother’s lifelong legacy fall into the hands of outsiders.

Fueled by burning ambition, I studied like a madman, yet repeatedly found myself suppressed and squeezed out by my father with zero room to rise.

Until that fateful banquet.

Dressed in a thin, fragile dress, I sat amidst the freezing snow playing the piano, my entire body stiff with cold, yet I didn’t dare play a single note wrong.

I wasn’t waiting for a prince to rescue me; I was hunting for a comrade willing to bleed in the trenches together.

Julian threw me a lifeline.

He said he could help me turn my dreams into reality.

Julian was the greatest mentor imaginable, possessing immense capital and transcendent capability.

He educated me on one hand, while granting me hands-on practical opportunities in the commercial world on the other.

Under his staunch backing, it took me a mere two years to reclaim the Song Corporation.

Not only did I chase away my worthless father, but I also drove my stepmother and stepbrother into a dead end with no hope of a comeback.

I was deeply grateful for Julian’s assistance, but beneath that layer of gratitude, my feelings toward him had silently morphed.

Yes, I had fallen in love with Julian.

Or perhaps, falling in love with him was an absolute inevitability.

If I were a truly rational person, I should have honored our initial agreement, accepted a generous financial settlement, and gracefully exited stage left.

However, throughout those long years of companionship, I had witnessed firsthand Julian’s chilling desire for control and his unfathomable depth of mind.

He wasn’t a man anyone could ever truly tame.

Yet on that particular day, when he casually and playfully asked if we should get married, I somehow lost my mind and nodded in assent.

Perhaps the night scenery back then had been far too enchanting;

Perhaps the profound affection in his eyes had looked far too pure.

I suddenly mustered reckless courage and impulsively married him.

In truth, for a very long time following our wedding, I lived in a surreal daze.

I could hardly believe that the untouchable high-altitude flower I once secretly yearned for had actually become my husband.

As it turned out, Julian treated me exceptionally well.

He respected my career, accompanied me to public speeches, and showered me with gentle protection;

He never forgot to send gifts and fresh flowers on anniversaries and birthdays.

I could genuinely feel that Julian liked me, despite the persistent malicious gossip swirling around us.

“Clara Song is nothing more than a fallen phoenix in the mud; what on earth does Julian see in her?”

“Word has it Clara Song is viciously ruthless—she personally sent her own biological father to prison, while her stepmother and stepbrother were driven to absolute destitution.”

“A powerhouse like Julian, why on earth did he marry a female Yaksha.”

“Vicious female Yaksha or not, Clara Song is drop-dead gorgeous. That face and aura could easily put movie stars to shame.”

“True, men are visual creatures. Bringing a stunning vase home to look at first is a given; as if Julian couldn’t easily handle a woman like Clara Song.”

I listened with detached calm, completely unfazed by the noise.

After all, the ruthless tactics I deployed against my biological father were no secret in the upper echelons of business.

Come to think of it, it was rather ironic—back when Julian climbed to the summit of power in his youth, he too had used thunderous, ruthless methods, offending countless enemies along the way.

Yet outsiders only praised his decisive ruthlessness, meticulous mind, and peerless strategic genius.

When it came to me, it instantly morphed into vicious malice and treacherous scheming.

Perhaps simply because I was a woman.

Julian couldn’t care less about such idle chatter.

He told me: “Clara, what kind of person you are is something only you have the right to define.”

“Do whatever you want to do, don’t be afraid. I’m backing you up from behind.”

I truly loved him.

I once believed our happiness would last for eternity.

Regrettably, disaster struck far too swiftly.

A competitor crushed by Julian in the past harbored murderous intent.

When that runaway freight truck hurtled straight toward us, Julian instinctively wrenched the steering wheel, using his own mortal flesh to absorb the brunt of the catastrophic impact.

Both of us fell unconscious from severe injuries, but his condition was exponentially worse.

People whispered that given the collision angle towards the passenger seat, whoever sat there faced certain death.

Yet when I finally regained consciousness after a agonizingly long surgery, Julian was still lying deep in a coma inside the ICU.

He loved me, likely far more than I had ever imagined.

Following emergency medical intervention, Julian managed to escape the jaws of death, but his legs faced the permanent threat of paralysis.

He needed to travel abroad for surgery, requiring extensive time for recuperation and physical therapy.

Yet at that exact juncture, the Vance Corporation was entirely under Julian’s autocratic rule.

Once he departed, it would inevitably trigger internal power struggles, fractured loyalties, and devastating corporate crises.

Lying on his hospital bed, Julian gripped my hand tightly, every single syllable ringing crystal clear: “Clara, I only trust you.”

“I believe you can definitely manage the company well in my absence.”

Three years—I sat in his executive chair for three solid years.

Though every single step forward was riddled with thorns and hardship, I ultimately anchored myself firmly in that position, even growing accustomed to it.

Power was indeed an intoxicating nectar that made it agonizing to let go.