CHAPTER 8: CHAPTER 8: GUARDING AGAINST HIM

Taking a deep breath, Poppy Hale yanked open the curtain.

With a cold expression, she looked at the old lady still raging, spouting nonsense.

"Speaking ill invites misfortune upon your descendants."

Poppy Hale wore a mask, her face small, with the mask covering most of it, leaving only her angry yet beautiful rippling eyes exposed.

The old lady’s voice raised, "What’s it to do with you?"

The doctor came in with medication, "What’s all this noise? If you’re not here for treatment, get out."

"This is a hospital, not a marketplace."

As her treasured grandson fell ill, the old lady blamed Florence Lynch and her mother entirely, and now her rage was interrupted by a stranger, making her even angrier.

She raised her hand to slap Poppy Hale’s face, her movement too quick, Poppy holding Florence could only grit her teeth, close her eyes, and turn her head to the side.

The slap never landed.

The old lady’s wrist was caught by Declan Hawthorne, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he flung the old lady’s hand aside.

Poppy Hale opened her eyes, slightly surprised.

Why was Declan Hawthorne here?

Thinking of the recent WeChat call, did he hear his wife and child were here and rushed over?

Seeing Declan Hawthorne, the old lady immediately toned down, standing quietly on the side.

Declan glanced at the old lady, his gaze shifting, "How’s Iris?"

Declan’s breath was unsteady, he must have run over, it was clear he was very worried about Iris Quill.

Poppy Hale took the opportunity to leave with Florence to get an injection.

Heather Underwood explained, "Ate too much at night, causing indigestion and a bit of a fever, it’s not serious."

Though intending to discipline Iris Quill, Heather Underwood’s attempts were always interrupted by the old lady, and the little fat boy just screamed frighteningly.

"Declan, why are you here?"

"Allergies, came to get some medicine."

While driving he saw Florence’s coat in the back seat, Declan Hawthorne called Poppy Hale, heard the dispute, and quickly came to the emergency.

Thinking of just now, with Poppy Hale holding the child, standing there stunned, eyes closed waiting to be hit.

Declan Hawthorne inwardly sneered, mocking.

The once sharp and proud Poppy Hale, worn down by marriage and that useless man, smoothing out her edges.

He took a deep breath, but something seemed stuck in his throat, it wouldn’t go up or down.

His heart also felt stifled.

Declan Hawthorne turned around.

The clinic room was empty, Poppy Hale didn’t know when she left with the child.

Heather Underwood noticed, got interested, "Declan, do you know that woman just now? I saw she’s wearing a mask, but her eyes are beautiful."

She also has a nice figure, though slim, everything she should have, she has.

"I don’t know her."

"Doesn’t seem like it, if you didn’t know her, why would you help her?"

Declan Hawthorne shot a look, "Do you want to see your mother-in-law end up at the police station for causing trouble?"

Heather Underwood and the old lady stayed silent, feeling a bit apprehensive inside.

Had they known, they wouldn’t have taken the old lady out, if trouble rose, her husband would only stand by his mother’s side at home.

Thinking about it was annoying, Heather Underwood said uninterested, "True, her kid is already so big, knowing her is pointless. Declan, you’re not getting any younger, don’t you have any woman you’re interested in?"

Sending Declan Hawthorne to pick up Iris Quill was also Mrs. Hawthorne’s idea, hoping Declan would interact more with children.

Maybe he’d want his own child.

Yet, Declan Hawthorne caught his son bullying others at kindergarten, took him home, and had the little fat boy recount the incident.

Heather Underwood felt embarrassed to listen.

Declan Hawthorne said coolly, "Heather, if you don’t want your son spoiled, get clear-headed."

His affairs didn’t need her interference.

After speaking, Declan Hawthorne didn’t linger, turning to leave the clinic.

Behind him were the sounds of the old lady and Heather Underwood’s argument.

-

Company.

Clapping his hands, Morgan Sloan looked at the members of the secretary team, introducing the woman beside him, "This is Rachel Rivers, here for an internship, a graduate of Arvum University, she’ll work in the secretary department."

Rachel Rivers passed Hawthorne Group’s tests and interviews.

Successfully entering the group for an internship, she chose the secretary department to be closer to Declan Hawthorne.

To catch Declan Hawthorne’s eye, Rachel Rivers wore light makeup, a fitted dress, and high heels, showing off her nice figure, but hadn’t seen Declan Hawthorne all day.

She asked Morgan Sloan beside her, "When will I see Declan?"

As soon as those three words came out, Morgan Sloan shuddered hard, goosebumps all over.

Couldn’t help but scold, "Even if you have personal ties with President Hawthorne, you can’t call him that at work."

Rachel Rivers was displeased, her beautiful eyes swept over Morgan Sloan, her clothes altogether just like that, if she could marry Declan Hawthorne, she’d be the Hawthorne lady.

Morgan saw her unconvinced and didn’t indulge her.

"If you have the ability, go find President Hawthorne yourself and ask for a position change. Since you’re interning in the secretarial department, you have to follow the rules."

Rachel walked out, embarrassed on behalf of the whole secretarial department.

Declan Hawthorne had seven or eight secretaries, and not every secretary could see him. As an intern, Rachel was not even on the same floor as Declan’s office.

Feeling reprimanded, Rachel was annoyed. Typing with extended nails was uncomfortable, so she simply put them aside.

She took out her phone and told Mason everything that just happened.

Mason, overwhelmed with work, didn’t have the heart to console her, "I ordered delivery for you, the Japanese food you like. I also ordered some for your colleagues. Behave yourself and don’t make things difficult for Declan."

Rachel was too young and didn’t understand the ways of workplace survival at all.

Timing it right, Poppy took the elevator to the parking lot and found Declan’s car.

"President Hawthorne, I’m here."

"Two minutes."

Moments later, Declan came down from his private elevator, and with the car keys in hand, unlocked the car. Poppy bent over and took out Florence’s coat.

"Thank you, President Hawthorne, sorry for the disturbance."

Declan frowned, "Do you have time after work?"

"Huh?"

"I’ll take you to buy some clothes for your daughter as compensation."

Yesterday, Iris had torn Florence’s dress.

Poppy took a step back, holding Florence’s coat, "No need, I’ll just send you the bill."

There’s no need to buy clothes. Even though Florence’s clothes weren’t expensive, there were plenty, and kids grow fast, needing new ones soon.

Besides, she didn’t want to have more interactions with Declan.

The coat was placed on the back seat, soaking up the scent of Declan’s car perfume, a woody fragrance, understated luxury, yet cool as the moon.

Just like him.

Poppy bit her lower lip, reminding herself over and over in her heart.

He already had a family, and there was a world of difference between them. There shouldn’t be any relation beyond work.

"President Hawthorne, I’m heading back up."

With those words, Poppy left without looking back.

Declan’s face darkened as he watched Poppy quickly sprint into the elevator, a wave of frustration brewing in his chest.

He lit a cigarette, the nicotine temporarily numbed his mind, but after the smoke cleared, he noticed the cigarette ashes on his shoes. The cigarette was near its end, and the heat scorched his fingertips a bit. Declan extinguished it and walked towards the elevator.

As the elevator doors were about to close, Amber, carrying a lot of shopping bags, quickly said, "Wait a moment!"

Once inside, she noticed Declan was still there. Had she known, she would’ve waited for the employee elevator instead of using the executive one.

"Hello, President Hawthorne."

"Hmm."

Declan remained indifferent, showing no intention of conversing with Amber.

Amber let out a sigh of relief and took out her phone to send a voice message, "Poppy, I brought a lot of clothes for you. Your daughter should fit into them just right."

Poppy replied, "Thank you, Amber."

Amber: "Don’t worry about it. I also have some toys at home. I’ll bring them next time."

Poppy: "Okay."

Declan casually asked, "For Poppy?"

Amber, seeing this, put away her phone and nodded, "Yes, her daughter is a year younger than mine. We have too many kid’s clothes at home, and even relatives won’t take them. Luckily, Poppy doesn’t mind."

Doesn’t mind?

In school, whatever outfit Poppy wore for photos and uploaded to social media, she would never wear again.

Declan remained expressionless, "What about her husband?"

"Oh, he seems to be quite irresponsible. Stays at home all day, and Poppy supports him."

Amber sighed, "I just don’t know what that man is thinking. Just resting at home contentedly. For Poppy to do so much, it must be true love. She must really love her husband."

True love.

Those words, as they reached Declan’s ears, felt utterly ironic.

After they broke up, she immediately married and had a child with another man. What kind of true love is that?

Declan’s face turned even darker, and Amber dared not say more.

Few bosses would like to hear about employees’ personal matters, and she had overstepped.

Once on their department’s floor, Amber said goodbye to Declan and left with the clothes.

The elevator ascended.

In the elevator’s mirror, Declan’s face was cold, his dark eyes deep, the atmosphere oppressively low.

Poppy would rather let her daughter wear other people’s old clothes than accept what he bought?

Declan felt like he had been punched unexpectedly.

Fine.

Poppy’s guardedness only fueled the secret and unacknowledged jealousy simmering in his heart.