After the Breakup, the CEO Begs for Forgiveness Daily

Chapter 2 Chapter Two

　　The next afternoon, Amelia had a client meeting.

　　She picked out a cream-colored suit with clean, sharp lines and pulled her long hair into a neat bun.

　　In the mirror, her face looked a bit pale, but the flawless makeup hid any signs of last night's sleeplessness.

　　Today's meeting was with Anselme, the Asia-Pacific head of Éclat, a major French luxury brand the company was eager to collaborate with.

　　When she arrived at the designated hotel, she saw Anselme Marchand—a man in his forties with a refined look and a graceful European elegance.

　　The moment he saw her, something lit up in his eyes. "I expected the project manager from Johnson Group to be some stiff middle-aged guy. Never thought I'd be meeting someone so stunning."

　　Amelia smiled politely. "You flatter me, Mr. Marchand. About the branding plan we discussed earlier—our marketing team has made some adjustments based on your feedback..."

　　"There's no rush to dive into work." Anselme cut in, his smile deepening. "I know a private lounge nearby. It's quiet, much better for a proper conversation. Would you be open to moving there?"

　　Amelia hesitated. She wasn't exactly thrilled about the idea, but Anselme was a key client and it wasn't a situation she could say no to."

　　Sure, I'll follow your lead," she finally nodded.

　　Thirty minutes later, the car pulled up in front of a swanky private club.

　　Thanks to Anselme leading the way, Amelia got in easily—even though this place had a base tab starting from a million.

　　They walked through a winding, dimly-lit corridor before a server pushed open an ornate wooden door. What she saw inside made her freeze.

　　Under the soft amber light, a few people lounged on a sleek leather sofa.

　　Right in the center, Simon was slouched back in his seat, looking relaxed.

　　A young woman in a sparkly silver mini-dress was practically draped across his lap, holding a grape up to his lips.

　　She was fully dolled up—Amelia instantly recognized her. Isabella Murphy, a B-list celebrity who'd been trending lately.

　　A balding middle-aged guy raised his glass and chuckled flatteringly. "Mr. Johnson, with Miss Murphy being so attentive, you really are living the dream."

　　Isabella giggled, her fingers lightly skimming Simon's tie as she cooed, "Mr. Johnson works so hard all the time. I just want him to unwind, you know?"

　　She looked up at him, her eyes full of flirtation. "Isn't that right, Mr. Johnson?"

　　Simon didn't push her away. Instead, he just smirked slightly and leaned in, taking the grape.

　　Amelia felt like her whole body went cold, like her blood was running backwards.

　　She had imagined countless ways she might run into Simon today—but definitely not like this.

　　There he was, another woman in his arms, soaking up all the flirty glances like it was nothing.

　　"Well well, isn't this Miss Clarke?" came a teasing voice.

　　Amelia turned her head. It was Raymond Johnson, Simon's younger brother—and one of the few who knew about her and Simon's complicated past.

　　Raymond strolled over, glass in hand, eyes flitting slyly between Amelia and Anselme.

　　"Mr. Marchand," he said with a smirk, "what brings our project manager from the Johnson Group to a place like this?"

　　Anselme casually draped an arm around Amelia's shoulders, his smile easy. "Just some business talk. This place is quiet enough to get things done."

　　"Business talk, huh?" Raymond raised a brow and threw a pointed look toward the center of the sofa. "Bro, your subordinate's out here working overtime, and you're just chilling at the club? Bit unprofessional, don't you think?"

　　Mention of that seemed to excite Isabella Murphy even more—she practically glued herself to Simon, her tone playful. "Mr. Johnson's the boss at work, but off hours? He's all mine... right, Mr. Johnson?"

　　Simon stayed silent, eyes locked on Anselme's hand resting on Amelia's shoulder, his gaze cold and unreadable.

　　Raymond caught the flash of jealousy in his brother's eyes, then leaned in, obviously amused. "So, Amelia... are you and Mr. Marchand on a date or what?"

　　"Raymond, you've misunderstood," Amelia's voice was pale, like her face. "Mr. Marchand and I were discussing business."

　　"Really?" Raymond raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. He turned to Anselme, smirking, "Mr. Marchand, are you sure you're only interested in work with Miss Clarke? Not something a bit more... personal?"

　　Anselme didn't bother hiding the way he looked at Amelia—his gaze practically burned. "I am pursuing Miss Clarke, yes. A gentleman appreciating a lovely lady—surely that doesn't go against Johnson Group's code of conduct?"

　　Raymond let out a low whistle. "Bro, your star employee's about to get poached. Mr. Marchand is famous for being rich and charming. If Amelia goes with him, she might go straight to being Éclat's brand ambassador. Beats grinding away at Johnson Group any day, right?"

　　Isabella chimed in with a sugary giggle, "I'm sure Mr. Johnson doesn't really care. Johnson Group's got talent pouring out of its ears. One project manager more or less probably doesn't matter, right, Mr. Johnson?"

　　Amelia clutched her clutch bag tightly, her eyes drifting to Simon, waiting, almost hoping, for his reaction.

　　Simon gently moved Isabella aside and straightened up. Then he looked at Amelia, calm as ever, voice flat, "Amelia works at Johnson Group, but she's an adult. Whatever decisions she makes, that's her call."

　　That one line crushed whatever hope Amelia had still clung to.

　　Turns out, in his eyes, she really meant nothing at all.

　　Three years of being there for him, all those late nights and tender moments, turned out to be nothing more than a deal with a price tag.

　　A twinge of pain crept up in her lower abdomen, making her bend forward slightly just to stay upright.

　　Anselme noticed her discomfort right away and asked with concern, "Amelia, are you alright?"

　　Amelia shook her head and forced herself to straighten up. By the time she lifted her face again, that professional, polished smile was already back in place.

　　"Mr. Johnson's right. I'm an adult, and I can decide what I want in life."

　　She turned to face Anselme, eyes steady. "Mr. Marchand, did you just say you wanted to pursue me?"

　　He looked a bit caught off guard but quickly answered, "Yes. From the moment I met you, I've been drawn to your elegance. I know it's sudden, but I mean it."

　　Some teasing whistles and chuckles rose around the room. Raymond leaned back with a smirk, one leg crossed over the other. "Whoa, confessing right here? Ms. Clarke, you'd better think it through. Mr. Marchand's no ordinary guy."

　　Amelia ignored the looks and whispers. She kept her gaze locked on Simon.

　　"If Mr. Marchand's really that impressive... then maybe I'd give it a thought."