Love or Die CEO’s Daily Dose of Swoon (Cordelia and Sanderson)

Chapter 119 

The Pioneers Group chat had been silent for days, so when someone finally piped up, the others quickly bubbled to the surface of the conversation. 

Mathster replied, [Never heard of ‘em.] 

Bland replied, [Farly bird interrupts my sweet dreams, huh?] 

Painter said, [Ever heard of mute?] 

Bland replied, [Set this chat to priority alerts, man. What if the boss needs me and I miss it?] 

The others mentally rolled their eyes at his brown–nosing, but no one dared to say it out loud. Instead- 

Painter said, [Same here, bro.] 

Chef echoed, [And me] 

Clothing Retailer said, [Me too] 

Pianoman asked, [Who’s this person, anyway? Never heard of them. Are they famous or something? @Painter] 

Painter said, [This person had a real flair for painting 18 years ago. Young and talented. But then I heard she married into some high society and stopped painting altogether. Not many people know her because of that.] 

Bland asked, [So why are you looking for her?] 

Painter replied, [To paint, obviously.] 

Bland said, [? But you’re a renowned artist yourself. Why do you need someone else to paint for you?] 

Painter said, [Let me school you, newbie. Watercolor themes fall into three categories, landscapes, figures, and still lifes. I specialize in figures, not landscapes.] 

Painter said, [I got roped into this game design gig, doing character art. I need a landscape artist for the scenery. Most of the famed landscape artists here have either aged out of the game or their work is too superficial for my taste.] 

Painter said, [After much thought, only Lorn from 18 years ago caught my eye. Her landscapes had the touch. of a master, truly spirited. I really like her work!] 

Mathster said, [You’re a big shot in the art world, chairing the Superiority Country Fine Art Association and heading the Superiority Art Academy. You must have the widest network. If you can’t find her, how can we?] 

Painter said, [Damn, back then Lorn was just a pseudonym she used to storm the national art scene. I was just a rookie myself, couldn’t dig up her real identity, and then she vanished. She might have changed her name, but talent like hers doesn’t just disappear. I’ve cast a wide net in my circles. You all have your connections. Hit me up if you hear anything. There’s a hefty reward in it.] 

Mathster replied, [No problem.] 

Pianoman said, [Got it.] 

One by one they responded. Cordelia thought for a moment. She couldn’t paint, but Lorna could. Maybe there was a lead there. So she chimed in. 

LearnLover replied, [Got it.] 

She put her phone down and, as usual, grabbed her book. It was physics–related, hard to understand, but she tackled them with zest, 

She had self–studied her way through college courses back at the orphanage. But it wasn’t until she’d visited her grandparents‘ house that she realized how superficial her knowledge was. 

Her grandparents were both university professors, and when she visited them with Lorna on weekends, she’d 

Chapter 119 

bring back a pile of books to delve deeper into the subject. 

Sanderson had offered them a place to stay, and her grandmother was supposed to arrive tonight, delayed by packing. Cordelia was eager for the new trove of books. 

Half an hour later, a car pulled up in front of Midnight Scent. 

Cordelia, carrying breakfast, descended the stairs and entered Midnight Scent. 

Calvert, as always, took the breakfast and set the table effortlessly, prompting Everard to rise from behind the counter and approach. 

Cordelia glanced at Little Fang and then at Everard. These two didn’t seem like former colleagues at all. But Everard had a presence that naturally commanded respect. 

As the three of them sat down, Cordelia couldn’t help but glance at Calvert, asking with a hint of curiosity, “You’ve been hanging around for two months now. Don’t you have things to do?” 

Calvert was about to reply when Everard’s smooth voice intervened, “He’s leaving soon.” 

Calvert was confused. Since when was he leaving? With a forced smile, he added, “Yeah, I actually came to Greenmeadow for business. Time to head back.” 

His boss really knows how to kick him to the curb once he’s no longer needed. 

After breakfast, Everard leaned back, resting his hands on the table, expecting the usual handshake. But when it didn’t come, he looked up, puzzled, to see Cordelia staring–not at him, but at his lips? 

Cordelia wasn’t sure what was going on with her. After the kiss yesterday, she should’ve been mad at him today, but she wasn’t. And now, the idea of even touching his hand was making her blush? 

Caught between her thoughts and his gaze, she hastily grabbed his hand. 

Before, his hand had been just a tool to her. But today, she noticed how attractive his hands really were–long, defined, with calluses that spoke of work but didn’t detract from their appeal. 

His palm was warm, and that heat seemed to burn her skin. 

Everard always teased her when they held hands, tracing her palm when she wasn’t paying attention. But today, when he did, Cordelia jerked away as if electrocuted, feeling a tingling sensation in her palm. 

Strangely enough, the heartache that usually needed a ten–minute handhold to subside was gone with just that brief touch. 

Cordelia stood up quickly, grabbing her backpack, I’m off to school now.” 

Everard watched her leave Midnight Scent toward the school, pondering why she seemed different today. 

Stepping out from Midnight Scent, Cordelia could still feel the warmth on her cheeks. She took a few deep breaths and, in an attempt to steady her racing heart, she silently recited a verse from an old poem she loved. Indeed, after a short while, her heartbeat returned to normal. 

There was nothing a little study couldn’t fix! 

Inside Midnight Scent. 

Calvert looked at Everard with the expression of a jilted lover, “Boss, you really letting me go?” 

Everard, his face a stoic mask, simply said, “Yeah.” 

Calvert, half–joking, half–concerned, “Who’s gonna cook for you if I leave?” 

Everard’s voice carried a hint of boast, “I could always mooch a meal at Lia’s place.” 

Calvert bit his tongue before replying, “Not to burst your bubble, but why would she ever let you in?” 

“But her dad might.” 

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Everard picked up his phone, scrolled to Sanderson’s contact, and shot him a message, [Mr. Sanderson, got a question for you.] 

Calvert just shook his head helplessly. His boss can be very shameless indeed. 

At the Delaney residence. 

Lorna and Sanderson were enjoying breakfast when her phone rang. On the other end was Fanny’s voice, “Lorna, I heard you’ve taken up painting again? Whose gallery are you selling them through? You’re not exactly a household name; you think they’ll sell?” 

Fanny’s voice reeked of smugness.