But there was nothing she could do-right now, The Fitzgerald Group was her client, and she was just the contractor. That meant she had no choice but to sit quietly a short distance away and wait.


    Suddenly, something seemed to go wrong. One of Victor''s subordinates must have said the wrong thing. Across the room, Isadora heard Victor''s low, cold grunt of disapproval. Even from where she sat, she could feel the tension in the air ramp up instantly.


    She waited for almost half an hour before the meeting finally ended and the others filed out. Once they were gone, Isadora hesitated for a moment, then stood and made her way over to the seating area.


    Victor lounged on the couch, not bothering to look up. His eyes stayed glued to the paperwork in his hands, as if he''d already forgotten she existed.


    Isadora stood there a bit awkwardly, pressing her lips together and forcing herself into business mode. "Mr. Fitzgerald, on behalf of The Vaughan Group, I''d like to present our ns for the Global Project for next quarter."


    At her words, Victor deigned to lift his gaze, barely ncing at her as he tilted his chin in a silent go-ahead. Then he immediately dropped his head again, turning to the next page of his file with those long, elegant fingers. The only sound in the room was the soft rustle of paper.


    Isadora felt like one of his junior staff, desperately trying to win her boss''s approval. If she''d known she''d end up in this position, she would never have epted that eight hundred million dor investment from this man. Right now, all she wanted was to get out-away from him, away from this suffocating, awkward atmosphere, and away from the man who made her heart ache in ways she didn''t want to admit.


    Gritting her teeth, she started her report. She was halfway through when she realized Victor''s attention had drifted from the documents to her. Leaning back, he rested his temple against his fingers and fixed her with an unreadable stare.


    Caught off guard by his gaze, Isadora faltered for a split second, losing her train of thought. Finally, Victor spoke, voice cool and emotionless: "It''s lunchtime. We''ll eat first."


    With that, he picked up the phone and ordered lunch to be brought in.


    Isadora shook her head, murmuring, "I''m not hungry."


    Victor arched a brow, his tone indifferent. "Well, I am. If you''re not eating, you can just watch me."


    She knew this side of Victor-arrogant, domineering, always putting himself first. But he hadn''t always been like this with her. Once, he''d teased her, indulged her, made her feel special. Now, he was all business, her client scrutinizing andmanding her, leaving her no choice but to obey.


    The realization left a bitter taste in her mouth.


    Soon, Kemp brought in lunch—an array of elegantly ted dishes: steamed white fish, sautéed crab with ginger, grilled steak with bitter greens, poached shrimp, and a delicate chicken broth. Under normal circumstances, Isadora would have found the light, fresh vors appetizing. Today, though, the smells made her stomach churn.


    She forced herself to sit quietly, not wanting to give anything away. Victor didn''t spare her a nce as he began to eat, his movements refined and almost mesmerizing. Isadora, meanwhile, felt like a fool sitting across from him. Annoyed, she finally sat down and, saying nothing, sipped at her soup.


    Out of the corner of his eye, Victor noticed her. A faint smirk yed at his lips as he watched her bring the spoon to her mouth.


    But the rich aroma of the broth only made Isadora''s nausea worse. She used to love chicken soup-soothing, nourishing, the perfectfort food. Now, whether it was her pregnancy or just her nerves, after just one sip she had to mp a hand over her mouth, fighting back a wave of retching.


    Terrified she''d draw attention, she looked up only to find Victor''s gaze ice-cold.


    His voice was low and biting with sarcasm: "What''s this? Just eating with me is enough to make you sick now? Impressive, Isadora."