The Billionaire's Maid Bride novel Chapter 613

"Look, I'm just here to discuss a job with Mr. Kenneth," I said confidently, as Bryan gave me a knowing look, silently telling me there was no need for further explanation.

"Sweetheart, I'm outta here. Won't disturb your pow-wow with Old Man Xavier. Chat to your heart's content," Bryan quipped, humming a tune as he strolled away.

Emma pushed open the door and stepped into the hospital room. There, propped up in bed with a small table over his lap, sat Hughes. He was dressed in a pale blue hospital gown, a stark contrast to his pallid complexion, which was even paler than usual. His lips were devoid of color, his hair slightly tousled, and his cheeks held a faint flush, signaling a fever. Despite his appearance, his spirit seemed intact.

Hughes looked up at Emma. "Working this late, huh?" It was clear he'd overheard her conversation with Bryan outside; she had come to discuss work with him.

Emma handed over the camera's memory card. "It's password-protected."

Hughes shifted slightly, grimacing as he likely aggravated his abdominal wound. Emma quickly added another pillow for support. "You okay? Need to take a break?"

"Let's just get this done," he insisted, inserting the memory card into his laptop. Cracking the password wasn't hard; it would take no time at all.

"It's a double 8-digit password. Whose camera is this?"

"It belonged to some paparazzo I caught," Emma explained. "They snapped some photos of my boss, so I confiscated it and made a few recordings. We're gonna use it for leverage tomorrow."

"You really look out for your boss. The first time at the Blue Club, you were sniffing around for intel on Robbie, and now you're cracking codes for her."

"She's always been good to me, so of course, I help her out."

Emma's gaze softened, her eyes like pools of kindness. Hughes bit the inside of his cheek, appreciating the beauty in her eyes. Her eyes were very pretty.

Ten minutes passed.

"Stay here. It's getting late; it's not safe to go back now."

Checking the time, Emma realized it was already midnight. She looked at Hughes. "I'll crash on the couch. I've got some video editing to do."

"Alright," Hughes replied, feeling the toll of his injury and fatigue. He closed his eyes to rest.

Emma tiptoed to the couch and sat down. The room was a high-end VIP suite, furnished like a boutique hotel. A rose-scented diffuser filled the air, and a plate of pastries—likely left by Bryan—sat on the table.

She booted up her laptop and began editing the video. She needed to ensure a smooth flow, cutting out any unnecessary dialogue between herself and Penelope and erasing the nanny's entrance. Once satisfied with the video's continuity, Emma saved her work and dialed her team's operations coordinator. She arranged for a trending spot the next day and instructed, "Oh, and let's hire some extra online support to boost Penelope's profile."

"Understood."