His One True Love

Chapter 8---Show Some Respect

"Mr. Fields, please behave yourself!"

Chase Fields stared at the flushed, furious little face before him. Calmly, he leaned down and murmured slowly into her ear, his voice deep and measured: "Miss Moore, you called me a businessman—businessmen are profit-driven and never make losing deals. What on earth do you possess that could possibly match the value of that villa?"

His low voice carried a chilling coolness. His inscrutable black eyes locked onto her profile, each word deliberate, striking straight into the most fragile corners of her heart.

Money? She had none. The Moore family had collapsed three years ago.

But her body? Chase had shown nothing but disdain for it last night—even humiliated her in front of everyone. She couldn't fathom what this man wanted from her.

The large hand gripping her waist tightened. Wendy Moore struggled, but couldn't move an inch. Chase glanced at her delicate, youthful appearance. "Weren't you quite skilled last night when you were trying to seduce me?"

He bent closer, his lips nearly brushing her ear, his rich, magnetic baritone tinged with faint mockery: "Or is this your little game of playing hard to get, Miss Moore?"

Without a flicker of emotion, Chase lightly lifted his wrist, plucked a strand of long hair that had slipped over her shoulder, carefully tucked it away, and closed it in his palm.

The next moment, he suddenly shoved her against the fish tank. Her back slammed into the hard glass, pain tightening her delicate features. She didn't even have time to react—his long, powerful legs wedged between hers, and a wave of intoxicating masculine scent crashed over her.

"I must say, I'm rather intrigued by your young body, Miss Moore."

The taunting words instantly ignited Wendy's fury. She glared straight into Chase's dangerously handsome face, so close she could feel his breath. Her heart pounded into her throat. Just as his lips were about to touch hers, her eyes trembled violently. She shoved him hard, turned, and fled the office.

Chase watched the slender figure scrambling away in panic, his lips curling faintly, his dark eyes narrowing. Coldly, he glanced at the black strand of hair in his palm.

...

Wendy Moore stumbled out of the office, emotions in turmoil. She collided head-on with a woman.

"Clatter—"

The woman's folder tumbled to the floor. Wendy quickly bent to help pick it up. "Sorry."

As she handed the files back, their eyes met. A flicker of shock flashed in Nancy Ford's eyes.

"I'm sorry I bumped into you."

Nancy Ford smiled politely and took the documents. "It's fine."

Only after Wendy disappeared into the elevator did Nancy's brow furrow.

This woman's eyes... they were uncannily like Candy's.

She glanced toward the noisy interview room, unease growing in her chest. Could it be... that Chase had been searching for Candy's birth mother all along?

She walked toward the CEO's office in high heels, file in hand. Just as she was about to knock, she heard voices from inside.

"These are Wendy Moore's and Candy's hairs. Take them for immediate DNA testing and comparison."

So it was true—Chase really was looking for Candy's biological mother.

Her fingers gripping the folder turned bone-white.

The office door opened. Kevin Hart stepped out and saw Nancy standing there. He paused, then greeted her: "Ms. Ford, are you looking for Boss?"

"Oh, the final draft of the poster for *Dreaming I'm Not Who I Am* is ready. I brought it for him to review."

Kevin gave a slight nod. "Boss is inside. Ms. Ford, I have to go now."

Nancy's eyes drifted to the white envelope in Kevin's hand, curiosity flaring. "Kevin, what's that?"

She reached out, but Kevin instinctively stepped back, smiling faintly. "Nothing important, Ms. Ford. I'll take my leave."

That envelope must contain the hair from that woman and Candy...

Nancy entered the office. "Here's the final draft. Take a look. If there's no issue, just sign it."

Chase took the file, glanced over it briefly, and signed his bold, scrawling name with a black pen.

She took a deep breath, finally unable to hold back: "I saw Clay brought in several people early this morning to interview candidates for 'Mrs. Fields.' Are you really planning to hire a wife? Chase, marriage isn't a game..."

Before she could finish, Chase had already looked up. "Ms. Ford, in the office, please call me Mr. Fields."

Nancy froze. The man handed her the signed document. She stared at him, lips pressed into a red line, silent for several seconds before finally taking the file.

At the door, she turned back. "Chase, must you keep drawing lines between us? Brandon has been gone for five years..."

"In public, you're my subordinate. In private, you'll always be my sister-in-law."

The cold, emotionless words extinguished the last flicker of hope in her heart.

...

Wendy Moore stepped out of Fields Tower, bought a bottle of ice-cold water, and drank nearly half before her chaotic heart finally stilled.

Damn it. If only she'd gone through with it, maybe she'd have saved her father's villa by now.

She clenched her fist and slammed it against her forehead. As she stood there in frustration, her phone rang. The caller ID: Yvonne Perry.

"Hey, Yvonne."

"Wendy, how did your interview go? Did your talent dazzle the interviewers?"

Wendy hailed a taxi as she replied gloomily, "Don't ask. I've got almost no chance at Fields. I applied online for a part-time job last night—I'm heading there now to check it out."

"Then good luck! You'll definitely get accepted at Fields—I believe in you!"

After hanging up, Wendy got into the taxi. "Driver, to Gaiara Foreign Language Kindergarten."

...

Arriving at Gaiara Foreign Language Kindergarten, Wendy entered the office.

"Hello, I'm here for the interview. I called you yesterday."

"Oh, you're the one applying for the art teacher position?"

"Yes."

The director glanced at her resume and smiled. "Miss Moore, your academic background and education from the Paris Academy of Fine Arts are outstanding. But I notice you don't seem to have much experience with children. Recently, a new child transferred into our junior class and keeps clashing with the other kids. Could you go handle it?"

Wendy quickly realized this was her interview test. She smiled. "No problem."

The director led her to the small playground where children were on break, pointing to a little girl sitting under a distant tree. "That's her—Candy. She just transferred from a government kindergarten to our junior class. She constantly fights with other children. Yesterday, she even got into a physical fight. Her family is powerful, so other parents are afraid to speak up when she bullies their kids. But as educators, we have a duty to guide her."

When Wendy approached Candy, the little girl pouted her pink lips and glared at her with big eyes. "Who are you?"

"Well, who are you? Why are you sitting here all alone, not playing with the other kids?"

Candy puffed her cheeks. "I won't tell you."