Chapter 128

The elevator doors slid open, and Emily Smith found herself face to face with Amanda Lin’s smiling eyes.

Amanda wore a champagne-colored silk dress that made her skin glow like snow. The diamond bracelet on her wrist scattered tiny reflections of light, sharp enough to sting Emily’s eyes.

Emily instinctively glanced down at her wrinkled blouse and jeans. She had stayed up all night revising a proposal and hadn’t even had time to put on makeup this morning. Standing before the radiant Amanda, she felt like Cinderella crashing a royal ball.

"Are you alright?" Amanda’s voice was soft as water, but her gaze lingered a second too long on Emily’s red-rimmed eyes.

Emily yanked her hand back, nails digging crescent moons into her palm. "Thanks for asking." She practically fled into the elevator.

As the doors began to close, Amanda suddenly smiled. "It was nice meeting you, Emily."

The words struck Emily like a thunderbolt. She looked up in horror just as the narrowing gap distorted Amanda’s smile into a grotesque, gaping maw.

Darkness surged like a tide. The last thing Emily heard was the sound of her knees hitting the elevator floor.

"Someone help! She fainted!"

The lobby erupted into chaos. Colleagues waiting for the elevator rushed forward in a panic, one already dialing emergency services.

Michael Thompson was reviewing quarterly reports when his phone buzzed violently. His pen skidded across the paper, leaving an ugly ink trail.

"What? Emily fainted?" He shot to his feet, his chair screeching against the floor.

Lily White barely had time to react before Michael barreled past her, nearly spilling her coffee. "Boss?"

"Emily collapsed in the lobby!" His voice faded as he disappeared down the hall.

On the 67th floor, Grace Lee’s hand trembled as she held the phone. She took a deep breath and knocked on the heavy oak door.

The scene inside stole her breath. William Johnson had Amanda caged in his arms, his long fingers toying idly with her bracelet. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting them like a masterpiece.

Grace started to retreat, but William’s icy voice stopped her. "What is it?"

"Mr. Johnson..." She swallowed hard. "Front desk reports that Emily Smith fainted in the elevator."

Amanda turned, lips parting. "That girl from earlier?" She gently squeezed William’s hand. "Should we go check on her?"

William’s mouth curved faintly. "If you wish."

The private elevator descended to the lobby. When the doors opened, William’s pupils contracted—Michael was already carrying Emily’s unconscious form toward the exit, her pale face slumped against his shoulder.

"Vice President Johnson!" Greetings rippled through the lobby.

Amanda nodded gracefully to the crowd. But William’s gaze remained fixed on the retreating figure until the elevator doors sealed shut again.