Callie stepped back, avoiding his gaze, and rolled onto the inner side of the bed. Nelson didn’t stop her; he instinctively protected her injured area.
With her back to him, Callie murmured softly, “I want to sleep.”
Nelson left the bedroom, giving her some space.
He sat on the leather sofa, smoking. The nicotine calmed him but also brought a tinge of sour emotion.
This feeling was something he hadn’t experienced in years.
Over the years, he had climbed to the top step by step, using every trick in the book, fighting with others, ruthless and cold-hearted. Even though he received praise from thousands and had more wealth than he could spend in eight lifetimes, he never felt a shred of happiness.
His heart always felt empty, without a place to belong.
Now, it seemed different.
Callie’s foot was injured, so she couldn’t go out. Nelson personally drove her to the villa they had stayed in last time.
The peach saplings planted after the New Year showed signs of survival, likely thanks to the gardener he had hired. The branches sprouted delicate leaves, green and full of life.
Callie squatted down to examine them under the light, and he caught her smile.
In the living room, as Nelson brought over some food, Callie was watching a video of herself being interviewed. It was recorded after a live broadcast; she wore a simple white sweater and looked spirited.
She was quite photogenic and felt relieved she didn’t appear nervous.
The reporter eventually asked about the recent news concerning the Oconnor Group’s construction site. She paused for a moment before speaking clearly.
“I once read a passage in a book that said, ‘The masses have never thirsted for truth. They turn a blind eye to evidence that doesn’t suit them. If falsehoods allure them, they are more willing to worship falsehoods. Whoever provides them with illusions can become their master; whoever destroys their illusions becomes their victim.'”
This statement was aimed at those who blindly followed public opinion.
Nelson handed her a small spoon and smiled slightly. “Walter also said that for some listeners, identical reports won’t sound the same because everyone has different experiences. Each person understands in their own way and infuses it with their emotions.”
It resonated with what she had said, harmonious and complementary.
She understood. “Public opinion studies?”
Nelson neither confirmed nor denied.
Because they were open and unafraid of rumors, they didn’t back down. This was why Nelson supported Callie’s public appearances.
The video continued playing. After some casual remarks about the Oconnor Group’s operations, the reporter shifted topics: “Miss Marsh, what do you have to say about Mr. Oconnor’s recent scandals?”
Callie’s lips were scalded by the soup; she instinctively looked at the man sitting across from her. His eyes sparkled.
She reached out to turn off the video but was too late. The video version of herself had already smoothly replied, “I trust Mr. Oconnor’s decisions. He is a very wise man.”
It clearly expressed that she stood by Nelson.
Many comments flashed across the screen: “Say what you will, but Callie seems so confident! I like her!”
…
In front of the computer, when Callie looked up again, Nelson was gazing at her with a half-smile.