The CEO's Empathy Pregnancy Pains

Benjamin quietly stayed by Mason's side.

Given the current state of the Smith family, he knew it wasn't his place to say anything or get involved.

Michael had to figure out these things on his own.

Just as the Smith family was sinking into another bout of despair, a commotion erupted from the dining room. Michael's shouts were followed by the screams of several maids.

Chaos ensued outside.

Mason, startled, stood up so quickly he nearly fell without his cane.

"Mr. Smith!" Benjamin, who had just come back from checking the situation, rushed to support Mason.

"What's going on out there?" Mason's face was weary, but he forced himself to stay alert.

"It's Mr. Michael Smith... he smashed the ceviche the chef just made!"

Mason's face turned red with anger. He grabbed his cane and stumbled out the door.

"Mr. Smith, be careful!" Benjamin followed closely behind, helping the furious Mason navigate to the first-floor dining room, where the ceviche lay scattered on the floor.

"Michael, what are you doing?" Mason looked at the once-proud president of Smith Corporation, now a shadow of his former self.

Michael was slumped on the ground, his face full of resentment, his eyes vacant.

"Skipping meals won't solve anything. Acting out like this won't bring Emily back! If I were you, I'd pull myself together. No matter what happens, you need to eat this meal today!" Mason's words were firm and resolute.

Michael knew all this already.

He looked up, tears streaming down his face, and gazed at Mason, on the verge of breaking down.

"Grandpa, this ceviche was Emily's favorite! Her favorite... her favorite..."

He repeated the words, his strength fading, collapsing to the ground, his sobs growing quieter.

Mason finally understood why Michael was so distraught.

He had asked the chef to make this dish. Looking at the chef, who nodded helplessly, Mason felt a pain in his heart, like being pricked by needles.

***

For the next few days, Emily had frequent interactions with Archibald.

Due to her outstanding work, Penelope had entrusted her with a new project, and Archibald was the partner.

As they worked together, they became more familiar, often grabbing lunch after meetings.

To Emily's surprise, Archibald, a wealthy young man who had returned from abroad, was nothing like the domineering Michael. He was gentle, humorous, considerate, and empathetic towards the less fortunate.

He seemed like the perfect leading man from a TV drama, without any flaws.

Despite this, Emily had no romantic feelings for him.

She admired him, though.

Yes, Emily truly admired Archibald. After all, he was a self-made man. He had worked his way through school abroad, supporting himself through graduate studies, and returned to Everglade City to start his own business from scratch, achieving success step by step.

This was perhaps the main reason for the stark contrast between him and Michael.

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As Emily thought about this, she drifted off again.

Archibald noticed her distraction over the past few days and had grown curious.

He tapped his spoon on her small plate of sauce, making a noise to catch her attention.

She looked up at him.  "Sorry!"

Archibald sighed. "Since we met, you've apologized to me countless times."noveldrama

Emily smiled sheepishly.

Archibald quickly reassured her. "It's okay. I don't know why you're distracted, but I know you were surprised when I said I liked the pasta from this little place. Did it remind you of someone? Does someone else love this pasta as much as I do?"

Emily shook her head with a smile. "No."

She poured the sauce into her bowl and began mixing the pasta, Michael's face flashing in her mind before quickly fading away.

Seeing no response, Emily looked up to find Archibald staring at her with a curious expression, then giving a resigned smile.

Emily understood his meaning and continued.

"I'm not hiding anything from you, Mr. Lancaster..."

Archibald corrected her. "I told you, just call me Archibald. We're friends now." Emily nodded. "Alright, Archibald."

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Since they were friends, there was no need to hide anything.

Archibald would eventually learn about Harry's father.

Besides, they were divorced. There was nothing to hold onto, nothing to hide.

"I was thinking about my child's father. He's somewhat like you, but also very different." Her words were vague.

Archibald grew interested in Emily's ex-husband.

"Did you part on good terms?" He asked directly.

He watched Emily's eyes, seeing them shift from evasive to natural before she answered.

"Sort of. He's a good person, but we weren't right for each other, so we ended up here."

Emily's eyes dimmed, and Archibald noticed. He didn't want to press further, sensing he could guess the rest.

If they had any chance of reconciliation, Emily would have endured for the sake of their child. But she no longer wanted to, indicating the man wasn't good.

Changing the subject, he pointed to a nearby coffee shop.

"Do you want some coffee? I'm craving a cup and can get one for you too."

Emily agreed, not wanting to continue the conversation. "Thank you."

As Emily had hoped, Archibald knew when to stop and change the subject, making interactions with him pleasant, unlike Michael...

Archibald had left, and the seat across from her was empty, but Michael's image reappeared in her mind. She didn't want this, so she let her gaze wander into the distance.