Dark Secrets of the Blind Husband

“It was Mr. Belcourt!” someone blurted out, shaking his head helplessly. “He’s got a temper like a volcano! Apart from the president, nobody in the company dares to cross him!”

“Mr. Dultch came up with this weird idea to test the temper of every big shot in the company.

guess who’s Supposed to help us figure out who to handle with kid gloves when assigning tasks… and the most untouchable? Yep, Mr. Belcourt…”

Before the person could finish, Mr. Dultch glared and shooed him away. “Get back to work! Mrs. Lenoir, don’t pay attention to his rambling.”

Cherise was floored by their bizarre logic. “So… your test concludes that I’m cool as a cucumber, huh?”

Mr. Dultch grinned. “Yep, you’ve got quite the cool head. But don’t worry, we’ll do our best not to ruffle your feathers…”

Cherise was left speechless. She had unwittingly discovered such a peculiar department existed in Damien’s company!

When she returned to Damien’s office from HR, it was already eleven in the morning.

She walked in holding the thick employee code of conduct given by Mr. Dultch. Damien was at his desk, working.

At the sound of the door, he glanced up with a smile. The HR are a bunch of zealous peeps, huh?”

Cherise grumbled as she unloaded the items from her arms onto the office desk. “Can you believe it? Each of them insisted on getting my autograph. And after I obliged, they had the nerve to compliment my patience, as if I wouldn’t have minded saying no from the start.”

Her efforts seemed wasted, leaving her feeling like an easy target.

“They probably didn’t mean any harm,” Damien said, approaching with a grin as he guided her to the nearby sofa. As he eased off her shoes, he added casually, “Mr. Dultch can be a bit mischievous. But honestly, they just appreciate people who can keep their cool and won’t be pushed around.”

“And with me around, who’d dare to mess with you?” His warm hand gently massaged her swollen ankle, injured earlier that morning.

Cherise remained silent, and her lips pursed in annoyance.

“Still giving you grief?” The man’s eyes flicked to her swollen ankle, concern evident in his voice.

“Nah, it’s fine now,” Cherise replied, smiling. Before she could say more, a knock interrupted them.

“Mr. Lenoir, I’m from Sales. The manager asked me to bring these documents to you,” a voice outside the door sounded genuinely concerned. This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

“Just leave them at the door,” Damien said, holding Cherise’s ankle, his gaze unmoving.

There was a pause from the person outside. “But sir, the manager insisted I personally hand them to you. Leaving them at the door… I’ll get in trouble if the manager finds out.”

A frown creased Damien’s brow, ready to voice his protest, but Cherise swiftly pulled her foot away, instructing, “Go sit down and let the poor guy in.”

With work hours in full swing, Damien couldn’t afford to disrupt his routine or the company’s operations for Cherise’s spur-of-the-moment decisions.

Damien sighed, looking resignedly at Cherise, who hurriedly slipped on her shoes.

Aware that resisting Cherise’s insistence would only lead to her overthinking and self-blame, Damien acquiesced. If she wanted him to work, he’d work. If she wanted him to rest, he’d relax.

“Come on in,” Damien uttered brusquely from behind his desk.