All the employees at Queenie Group were shocked by the events that unfolded.
Their usually icy president, Queenie, had seemingly gone mad—fighting with the eldest son of the Holland family over a toy boy?
Had she lost her mind?
The Holland family was Queenie Group's primary business partner, the biggest channel. And yet, here she was, embroiled in personal drama. The rumor mill was buzzing with speculation.
It seemed even the strongest women could lose their composure when love was involved.
Queenie, however, wasn't in the mood to entertain the whispers. Her frustrations were far beyond the reach of office gossip. Without hesitation, she pulled John away from the building, and of course, fate had other plans. They ran into Gary outside again.
Gary Williams, looking the same as always, seemed to have not learned his lessons. As soon as he saw Queenie, he dropped to his knees.
"Sister, please… just one more time! I'll pay you back. Please lend me another two hundred thousand. I swear, this is the last time!"
Queenie's patience was thin. Her voice was cold and biting, "Get lost! I'm sick of looking at you!"
Gary had promised to pay back the previous loan with the two hundred thousand Queenie had given him, but he hadn't done so. Instead, he tried to make more money and had lost everything once again.
She stormed off, not giving him a second glance, and the Porsche's engine roared as it sped away.
On the way home, John glanced at Queenie, noticing the strain in her face. "Sister, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make things worse on my first day here…"
Queenie's expression softened as she turned to him. "What are you talking about, John? It's not your fault."
She was weary of Karl's constant harassment, but had held her peace for the sake of their business dealings. Without John, this conflict would have been inevitable at some point.
After a brief pause, John spoke up again. "Sister, I've thought about it. The HR manager position isn't right for me."
Queenie's hand jerked on the steering wheel. She slammed the brakes, the car coming to an abrupt halt. Turning to him, her expression was stern. "What? You care about what they're saying about us? You think we should be ashamed of being close as brother and sister? You think we should hide because of rumors?"
Her anger flared, and John quickly clarified, "No, no, it's not like that. I just… I'm used to freedom, you know? I'm not cut out for the role of managing the company. It's got nothing to do with the rumors."
Queenie paused, her face softening with a sigh. "Alright, if you're happy with your decision…"
She exhaled deeply, the tension leaving her shoulders. "By the way, do you know about the new product launch the day after tomorrow?"
John looked at her, sensing her concern. "Is something wrong?"
Queenie nodded. "I'm worried. Karl and Beauty Group won't let us off so easily. The press conference might not go smoothly."
The day after tomorrow was crucial for Queenie Group. They had planned the launch of their new product with a media event already scheduled, but recent developments had cast a shadow over it. Queenie couldn't shake the worry from her mind.
At Greenland Villa, Queenie's home was an oasis of calm. Surrounded by the fragrance of flowers and the gentle rustling of leaves, it was her sanctuary, a place where the weight of the world could be momentarily forgotten.
John was amazed as he looked around the vast villa. "Sister, you live here all by yourself? It's huge."
Queenie smiled faintly, her eyes softening. "Well, your sisters have been so busy lately. They hardly ever come back. If you hadn't insisted on keeping your return a secret, I would have invited them all over tonight."
She had changed into a cozy shirt adorned with a cartoon rabbit design, looking far removed from the cold, businesswoman persona. Her usual formality was replaced by an approachable, sisterly warmth.
"John, make yourself comfortable. I'll cook something for you," she said.
John waved it off. "Don't bother, sister. Just cook a bowl of noodles for me."
"Is that too casual?" Queenie hesitated.
"No," John reassured her, smiling. "Do you remember when we were kids? We didn't have a lot of snacks, but you'd secretly cook noodles for us with Grandpa Wodehouse's pot. Those were the happiest moments."
Queenie's face softened, touched by the nostalgia in his voice. "Alright, just this once."
She entered the kitchen and quickly prepared two steaming bowls of noodles with eggs, filling the air with the familiar aroma of their childhood.
As John devoured the noodles, he sighed in contentment. "Oh, sister, the noodles taste just like they did back then. I haven't had them in so long."
"If you like it, I'll cook it for you every day," she smiled warmly, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
John finished the bowl with a satisfied grin, and Queenie's heart fluttered with happiness at the sight of his joy. When she stood up to clear the table, John beat her to it.
"Sister, let me do it. Your hands are delicate, and the detergent could hurt them."
Queenie beamed, touched by his thoughtfulness. "Alright, I'll take a shower first."
She went into the bathroom, feeling a small sense of relief. But once inside, she froze. She had forgotten to grab her pajamas.
The house had never been visited by a man before—except for John, of course. But even then, it was different. She hesitated, wondering if she should wear something else. In the end, she grabbed a white bath towel and tiptoed back to her room.
Halfway there, though, she slipped.
"Ouch!"
She yelped as she tumbled, and before she could even call out for help, John was there, his presence swift and unexpected.
"Sister, are you okay?" he asked, his concern evident.
Flustered, Queenie flushed red. She hadn't expected him to be so close. He quickly crouched down and, without another word, scooped her up, his hands steady and firm on her waist.
Queenie's heart raced. "John, you…!"
Her voice trembled. Although they were close as siblings, they weren't blood-related. Would he…?
John didn't seem to notice her flustered state as he carried her to the bed. "It's okay, don't worry. Just stay still."
His calm, collected demeanor only served to make Queenie more nervous. She couldn't help but blush further, unsure of how to handle the intimate moment. She quickly dressed in her nightgown to regain some composure.
Once John had made sure she was comfortable, he turned to the cabinet. "You've scraped your knees. Let me disinfect them for you."
He retrieved iodine and cotton swabs, gently tending to her wound.
Queenie's voice wavered. "I can do it myself…"
But John wasn't having it. "Stay still."
She fell silent, her face buried in the quilt in embarrassment.
The situation felt strange, but also… comforting? She couldn't place it. All she knew was that John's presence made her feel safe—even if a little overwhelmed.
But that younger brother of hers? He was beginning to show signs of being a little too domineering.
John slept soundly that night, while Queenie had already left for work by the time he woke up. She had left him a breakfast she'd made, along with a note that read:
"Little brat, have your breakfast!"
She'd drawn a smiley face on the back, and John couldn't help but smile in return.
Although Queenie appeared cold and distant to the world, at home, she was undeniably warm-hearted. And John, feeling this warmth, couldn't stand the thought of her being hurt by anyone.
As he sat there, thinking of how to protect her, a cold gleam appeared in his eyes. Reaching for his phone, he dialed a special number, a plan beginning to form in his mind.
What was he about to do next?