Upstairs, Joel Russo watched the scene below with a detached expression, the corners of his lips curling into a faint, indifferent curve.
The private room's door opened at that moment, and Vincent came up to "claim credit."
Joel turned around, his gaze indifferently sweeping over him.
Vincent reined in his chin, slightly bent at the waist with his body tensed, apprehensive.
"Your skill in toying with people... still needs improvement," said Joel.
As the final note of Joel's flat intonation fell, a slight relief passed over Vincent's features.
"I will definitely redouble my efforts," he vowed.
Joel frowned, "Keep bringing her meals, three times a day, until she recovers and is discharged."
"Understood, sir."
-
By evening, Arabella Vanderbilt could only look on speechlessly at Vincent's arrival.
For two consecutive days, due to Vincent's varied efforts to deliver meals to bolster Arabella's strength and nutrition, her complexion had noticeably improved.
Even her stomach, which had been causing her sporadic pain, had surprisingly not acted up at all these past two days.
But this couldn't continue forever, and finally, on the third day at noon, Arabella couldn't take it anymore.
Vincent came as usual, and she calmly received the food container, then said, "Where is Old Madam? I promised to keep her company and chat."
Vincent pondered a moment, "I will go back and inform Old Madam."
Arabella nodded, "She has my phone number; she can reach out anytime if she is feeling bored."
"Alright."
Vincent immediately left the sickroom to consult with Old Madam.
However, he almost bumped into two individuals on his way out.
His reflexes were quick; he sidestepped, avoiding any physical contact with the pair.
Vincent gave them a brief glance, nodded perfunctorily, and turned away expressionlessly.
Juliana Vanderbilt, arm in arm with Oliver Timmerman, looked shockingly at the retreating figure of Vincent.
"He... he just came out of my sister's room, didn't he? Brother Oliver, who is he?" she asked.
Oliver's deep eyes narrowed slightly, a complex emotion flashing through them before he casually replied,
"He must be someone who previously collaborated with the company, I don't quite remember."
"Oh."
Juliana watched the retreating figure for a moment, a smile only appearing in her beautiful eyes upon hearing Oliver's words.
"Let's hurry in then."
"Mhm."
Oliver agreed, pushing open the door to Arabella's sickroom.
Arabella was reluctantly eating the food Vincent had just brought when she heard the sound, and she looked up.
In an instant, her face froze, and for a moment, her breath stopped.
Juliana was clad in a beige trench coat, her tea-colored wavy curls cascading over her shoulders, highlighting her delicately chiseled features, always maintaining her dewy, sparkling eyes, her skin like creamy jade. With each smile, she exuded frail elegance.
By her appearance alone, coupled with her natural talent for acting and as one of the most popular actresses of the time, her status was well deserved.
At that moment, she affectionately clung to Oliver's arm; a handsome man and a beautiful woman, they indeed made a pleasant-looking couple.
Arabella's expression was somewhat dazed.
Looking back at herself, she always wore stiff business attire, and her long hair was almost never styled, always kept in the same simple hairstyle, tied up in a simple bun or ponytail when working.
Yes, indeed, standing next to Juliana, anyone would choose her over Arabella.
(✪ω✪)