The Sweetness of Love at the First Sight

Over the past few years, I moved homes many times, but I could never bring myself to part with my cat. Marshie was one of the few reasons I held on in this world.

I held Marshie close as she gently licked my swollen forehead and tears streamed down my face.

Just then, a notification from Valerie on WeTalkApp had popped up:

"You have one more month. If there's no progress, I want all the money back!"

No! I couldn't live without money, not right now. Aunt Bella's ICU medical bills were too expensive.

I had to find Michael's mysterious lover.

My phone rang—it was Michael.

"Mr. Shaw, you called," I said, keeping my voice steady.

"Landon Mackinzie from Mackinzie Industries is coming this afternoon. Prepare the meeting materials."

"Yes, sir."

I reluctantly agreed. If I couldn't unearth any leads, I'd have to go along with the gossip.

After all, no woman could escape jealousy.

I slipped into a figure-hugging skirt and arrived at the meeting venue, steeling myself as I adjusted my collar and passed the documents to Michael. But he didn't spare me a glance, not even a single glance.

Instead, it was Mr. Mackinzie who sat beside Michael who groped my buttocks under the table.

I jerked away as if struck by electricity, shooting him a fierce glare. He smirked back, his expression wicked and rubbed his chin suggestively.

Michael clearly saw it all but remained eerily silent.

"Mr. Shaw, your secretary looks really stunning," Landon's oily voice interjected.

"Go and join Mr. Mackinzie for dinner tonight," Michael's words made me grit my teeth, but I held my tongue.

Leaning in close, he whispered in my ear, "Partnership with Mackinzie Industries is crucial. Play along at dinner and I'll give you the answers you seek."

“Yes, sir！”

The dinner hadn't even started yet when Michael sent over a dress for me—a stunning burgundy gown.

I got dressed, fixed my hair and makeup and arrived early at the private dining room to arrange the dishes and drinks.

Sure enough, the moment Landon walked in, he pulled me to sit next to him.

His lecherous eyes lingered on me. "Ms. White, you're quite charming! Are you married? Your husband must be a lucky man!"

As he placed his hand on my shoulder, a foul stench assaulted my nose.

Michael, sitting nearby, sipped his wine, showing no intention of helping me.

When Landon's hand started moving up my leg, I couldn't suppress the wave of nausea any longer and excused myself to the restroom.

When I returned, Landon was already a drunken mess.

By the end of the dinner, Landon still hadn’t agreed to sign the cooperation deal.

He and Michael, arms draped around each other, staggered out of the restaurant. I bundled both of them into the back seat of the car.

Just as I was about to get into the passenger seat, Michael suddenly spoke in a surprisingly clear voice, "Get out and wait outside."

Obediently, I closed the door and stood with the driver outside the car.

Almost immediately after we stepped out, Landon's wails filled the air and the car began to shake violently.

A few minutes later, Landon was tossed out, his body covered in bruises, his left arm clearly broken and hanging limply.

Before I could react, Michael grabbed him by the neck and whispered something in his ear. Landon nodded frantically, but for some reason, he couldn't utter a single word.

The driver handed over the contract and Landon, trembling, signed it.

"Get in the car," Michael ordered me.

Ignoring the battered Landon, the driver sped off.

We drove in silence until we stopped in front of a hotel.

"Get out," Michael commanded.

I looked at him, terrified, not knowing what he actually intended.