Three Years Forgotten, Why Go Crazy When I Say Goodbye? novel Chapter 158

Logistics, shipping, seeking partnerships... he only had to glance at it for a second to know exactly who Willow had posted this for.

After all, according to his intel, Sinclair Group also had a hand in the shipping industry and held a massive slice of the pie in New York City.

He just didn't understand why she had to be the one doing this.

A surge of utter contempt for that man rose in his chest. Actually forcing her to stick her neck out publicly to beg for business connections—what a pathetic loser. If it were him, he would never, ever let Willow lower herself to something like this.

But the brutal reality was, there was absolutely nothing he could do.

Silas took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose wearily, forcing himself to calm down and stop spiraling into useless hypotheticals.

Monday rolled around, bringing the usual project status meeting. Silas attended as always.

During the meeting, even though everything went smoothly and Willow commanded the room with her usual flawless precision, Silas still caught a glimpse of deep exhaustion in her eyes. It seemed that whatever had happened was taking a heavy toll on her.

Once the meeting concluded, he explicitly requested that Willow drop by his office.

Hearing this, Willow froze in surprise. Honestly, it wasn't just her—the rest of the team was equally stunned, as everyone knew Mr. Thorne's operating style. Normally, he never casually summoned anyone to his office. If he did, it meant someone had made a catastrophic error and was about to get completely torn apart.

Best case scenario, you got chewed out; worst case, you got fired on the spot. In short, no one willingly stepped foot in his domain without a very good reason. Right now, the entire room was shooting Willow looks of profound sympathy. Of course, there were those relishing the drama—Clarence Vance's smug expression was impossible to miss.

Following Silas into his office, Willow's expression betrayed her creeping anxiety. She genuinely couldn't fathom why he had called her in. The tension only thickened when they entered the room and he didn't say a word, simply busying himself with preparing a pot of tea. Willow felt completely adrift.

She had heard people say that the higher a leader climbed the corporate ladder, the better they became at masking their emotions, especially when using psychological warfare against normal employees.

The long silences, the deliberate tea-making, the casually tending to office plants—these mundane actions were specifically designed to shatter the other person's psychological defenses.

"That's not what I meant." She just hadn't expected Silas to personally make tea for her. "It's fine, I'm not thirsty. Could you please tell me why you called me in?"

"Drink it first, and then I'll tell you." For some inexplicable reason, Silas was stubbornly fixated on this.

Willow didn't dare refuse. She obediently took the cup and downed it.

"Have another." Silas had only poured a tiny amount. One cup was barely enough to wet her throat; to actually shake off the exhaustion, she needed at least two.

Although Willow had no idea what was going on, she dutifully followed orders again. "Can you tell me now?"

As she spoke, her long eyelashes fluttered, framing her perfectly sculpted nose. Her lips, slick and flushed a deep red from the warm tea, looked devastatingly pure and innocent. Silas couldn't help himself; his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than was professional.

This was a Willow he had never seen before. She wasn't the invincible corporate titan who ran the boardroom, nor was she the distant, formal employee who usually kept him at arm's length. This side of her was completely transparent, unguarded, and undeniably fragile.