“Silence Stillman, is it?” Conrad suddenly spoke.
Her face lit up. “Yes, that’s me.”
“I hope you live up to your name,” he replied coolly.
Silence’s smile faltered, her face stiff with embarrassment. The other staff pretended not to hear.
She plopped herself down on Lillian’s folding chair and leaned forward. “Mr. Conrad, you really know how to joke around.”
Conrad shot her a sideways glance, his patience wearing thin.
“Mr. Conrad, I’m guessing the reason you came here without notifying anyone was because of Director Lillian, wasn’t it?” Silence pressed.
After all, plenty of people had seen them leave the inn together earlier. Who would believe there was nothing between them?
If a big boss visited the set, it was usually a big deal. But Conrad had come quietly, clearly not wanting to draw attention.
And yet, he still made a point of being seen with her, marking his territory in front of the staff like a territorial alpha.
Conrad didn’t say a word.
Silence chuckled lightly and continued, “I just want to get to know you, Mr. Conrad. If you’re willing to give me a chance, I can do much better than Director Lillian.”
As she spoke, her hand slid onto the back of Conrad’s.
The next moment, something cold pressed against her forehead.
Startled, Silence looked up to find a bodyguard in a black suit pointing a gun at her head. She hadn’t even noticed him appear.
Terrified, she flinched, quickly withdrawing her hand.
Conrad couldn’t be bothered to argue with her. Taking a disinfectant wipe handed to him by his subordinate, he cleaned the back of his hand and then tossed the used wipe onto Silence’s face.
“Handle it,” he said curtly.
Andrew stared at Silence like she was already a dead woman.
******
When Conrad stepped out, Lillian was wearing a hard hat and holding a tape measure, looking every bit like a construction foreman.
He walked up to her and stood by her side, but she didn’t notice him at first, mistaking him for her assistant.
“Can you contact Mr. Harry? It seems like the batch of tables and chairs made yesterday isn’t the right design.”
“And also, remind the props team again-they need to stick to an antique bronze finish with a weathered look, as close to the artifact style as possible.”
She rattled off a series of instructions before realizing no one had responded. Turning her head, she finally saw Conrad standing there.
Conrad exhaled a slow puff of smoke, and Lillian instinctively said, “No smoking here.”
Conrad raised one eyebrow. “Giving me orders now?”
Lillian glanced around nervously before stepping closer. “Everything here is made of wood, Mr. Conrad. Please?”
“Then you put it out for me,” he said, tapping her bright yellow hard hat with his finger.
Lillian stood on her tiptoes, snatched the cigarette from his lips, extinguished it, and then smiled. “Why didn’t you wait inside?”
“There’s trash in there,” he replied flatly.
If she’d spent even a fraction of her work focused on him, she would’ve noticed sooner.
The thought of her neglecting him left Conrad irritated for no clear reason. As he approached earlier, he’d even considered shutting down the entire production just to see how she’d react.
After all, Lillian should be listening to him. Her attention should be entirely on him.
He hated seeing her preoccupied with things that weren’t him. Hated even more that her phone was always filled with notifications and calls about everything except him.
People only had so much energy. If she directed hers elsewhere, he’d inevitably be pushed to the back burner.
Frowning, Conrad was pulled from his thoughts by Lillian’s sweet voice. “How about I take you out for lunch?”
The crew’s boxed lunches-or even the private catering occasionally sent over-were definitely not to Conrad’s taste. Rather than risk him throwing a tantrum and shutting down the set, Lillian figured taking him out was the safer bet.
Conrad responded with a noncommittal hum.
“What’s on your agenda this afternoon?” he asked.
“I need to check out the bamboo grove in the back hills and scout a location for an ancient sacrificial altar. I’ll also have to negotiate with the villagers who own the land. You know how it is-if the crew damages their property, they won’t be happy, and we’ll need to sort out compensation and insurance in advance.”
As she spoke, her lips pressed into a slight frown, and her brows furrowed, as though she was already dreading the hassle.
Conrad, who had dealt with far tougher situations, didn’t see a few villagers as any kind of obstacle.
“If it’s just a matter of money, then it’s not a problem,” he said dismissively.
To Conrad, such things were indeed trivial.
But Lillian often found herself thinking, If only I had his power and influence, so many of my problems would be easily solved.
At times, her jealousy of Conrad was painfully raw and undeniable.
Lillian forced a faint smile and got in the car, directing Conrad to a small restaurant in town. By midday, there was already a long line outside.
This was one of the hidden gems Gordon had scouted for days-just as good as any big-name establishment. The chef definitely had skills.
Worried that Conrad might refuse, Lillian quickly said, “This is one of the best spots around here.”
“So you often come here with Gordon?”
Conrad’s words made a cold sweat break out on her back. A sharp, icy feeling pierced through her, spreading like a chill straight to her core.
So… driving her to work today, inspecting the construction site, and now having lunch-he was retracing her daily activities with Gordon, step by step.
She realized she had never truly been out of his sight.
It was as if he was playing a game, erasing the map and progress she’d covered with Gordon and redrawing it with his own.
She had no idea to what extent he had been monitoring her, but his calm demeanor suggested she hadn’t completely angered him yet.
Lillian tried to keep her expression natural. “There’s not much else to eat nearby. Even our crew comes here for a steak.”
Conrad saw right through her little act. Without a word, he opened the car door and got out.
Lillian, panicked, wanted to suggest they get the food to go, but Conrad was already heading inside.
“Dine in,” he said.
“But it’s crowded and noisy in there,” she tried to argue.
“Then it’s not your problem to worry about.” With that, Conrad strode confidently into the restaurant, dragging Lillian along.
Whatever happened outside-likely taken care of by the bodyguards-was none of her concern.
The small restaurant was a simple place with only a communal dining area, and no private rooms.
Conrad chose a window seat. The table was slightly greasy, and the air was thick with the smell of beef.
Lillian pulled out some wet wipes to clean the table for him. “The food here is actually quite good,” she said nervously, afraid he’d turn his nose up and leave.
Seeing her fret, Conrad smirked. “It’s not like I’ve never eaten at a dive like this. What are you so worried about?”
“You’ve eaten at places like this?” Lillian asked, genuinely surprised.
Conrad scoffed. “When you’re starving, even tree roots look appetizing. Normal food is nothing.”
“You’ve eaten tree roots? Weren’t you always the second young master of the Brown family? When did that happen?”
Lillian herself had never experienced hardship, let alone set foot in such modest eateries. But Conrad never exaggerated-if he said it, it had to be true.
“When I was stationed with the border troops during training exercises. Fresh recruits aren’t as crafty as veterans. We got cornered in the mountains, refused to surrender, and ran out of food. So, we gnawed on tree bark, dug up yams, and ate them dirt and all. They wanted me to give up-no way.”
It was the first time Lillian learned he had attended military school.
“How old were you when you joined?” she asked.
“I started rolling in the dirt at seven.”
“No wonder,” she muttered.
No wonder when he returned to the Brown family, she had only heard about him but had never seen him before.
“No wonder what?” Conrad asked, hands stuffed into his pockets.
“Back then, people would occasionally talk about the Brown family’s second son, but no one had ever seen you. Some said you were studying abroad, others said you were living with your mother’s family. Either way, you weren’t in City N.”
“Not entirely wrong,” Conrad said with a slight nod. “I was raised by my grandfather. He said he didn’t tolerate weaklings under his command. If I wanted to be his grandson, I had to be the strongest soldier under him.”
Lillian couldn’t relate to any of this. The Brown family was shrouded in mystery for her. In their social circle, people only spoke of their power and influence in awe.
“So why didn’t you stay in the military?”
If he had, maybe she never would have met him.
Still, with his personality, she couldn’t imagine why he’d even want to serve in the first place.