Chapter 19 Cool Mommy Down

• Back at the secretary's desk, Freya recalled Henry's words and felt deeply frustrated.
• Who does he think he is, claiming no one would hire me if I leave this company?
• To hell with his authority!
• He wants me to pay the price? That doesn't make sense!
• All I want is to leave—what is wrong with that? It doesn't involve any significant interests. Why did that arrogant man threaten me like that?
• Freya slumped on the desk, her delicate features twisted in frustration as she completely disregarded her appearance.
• "Don't doze off. I have a new assignment for you."
• Bang! The loud noise reverberated in her ears, causing Freya to jump up from the desk. She rubbed her ears and turned to see. When she noticed the towering stack of files, Freya was utterly overwhelmed.
• "All of this for me to handle alone?"
• How can I possibly manage all of this alone?
• "Yes, all needed by tomorrow, so get them organised quickly," Zoe stated before leaving.
• Freya stared at the towering stack of files, feeling nothing but a headache.
• This is outright exploitation! He's retaliating against me!
• Setting complaints aside, the work still needed to be completed, and Freya could only swallow her frustration.
• But she hadn't anticipated that not only would today be oppressive, but the coming days would be too.
• Confronted with mountains of files daily, Freya was so frustrated she could grind her teeth, but there was no way out, so she had to continue diligently.
• The fluorescent lights in the secretary's office glared brightly.
• Freya rubbed her eyes and yawned. After meticulously checking the last line of data, she inputted and saved it before looking up. Everyone had already left, and darkness enveloped the window.
• Suddenly, a bright light pierced the darkness, startling Freya.
• It was going to rain, and she needed to hurry.
• But she was too late. By the time she reached the company gate, heavy rain was pouring down.
• The glow of her phone screen weakly flickered in the dark rainy night.
• It was already 12.30 AM. Freya had lost track of how many times she had worked overtime until this hour. These days, she consistently worked until the latest hours.
• Henry, the petty man, is to blame!
• He forced me to work overtime daily, and by the time I got home, my babies would already be asleep, leaving me no time to spend with them. Now, I even have to walk home in the rain.
• After silently cursing Henry, Freya resolutely hoisted her bag over her head and dashed into the rain in one breath.
• It was already autumn, and she wasn't dressed warmly enough. The rain pounded her body, chilling her to the bone and making her shiver.
• Freya ran to the bus stop, seeking shelter and waiting for the bus. The rain poured heavily, splashing into the bus shelter whenever the wind blew, soaking Freya.
• By the time she arrived home, it was already 2.00 AM. The neighbourhood lights were all off, with only a few motion-sensor lights illuminating Freya's path ahead.
• She unlocked the door with her key, stepping into a pitch-black house.
• Freya fumbled to switch on the lights, kicked off her wet shoes, and walked barefoot into the bathroom.
• The bathroom mirror reflected her dishevelled appearance: wet hair clinging to her face, strands sticking, half-smudged makeup, soaked clothes revealing her curves.
• No wonder the taxi driver looked at me in a weird way.
• Freya undressed and settled into a steaming hot bath. Perhaps due to staying in too long, when she stood up, she felt dizzy and weak, almost stumbling.
• Leaning against the wall for support, Freya dried her hair and made her way to the bedroom. Climbing into bed, she cuddled her soft, sweet-scented little ones, calming her nerves after a long day and quickly drifting into a deep sleep.
• The next morning.
• Due to heavy rain the previous night, the morning air felt unusually crisp.
• When Joan opened the door and found several puddles in the living room, she assumed Freya had forgotten to mop the floor. She grabbed a mop and began clearing up the water.
• "How did water get into the bedroom?"
• Confused, Joan pushed open the door, finding it slightly ajar instead of closed.
• "Fae? Are you home?"
• "Ms. Joan!" Jasmine heard the door and, rubbing her eyes, called out.
• "Ms. Joan!" Winston turned his head and echoed.
• Inside the room.
• Freya lay asleep in bed with a white cloth on her forehead. Jasmine and Winston's yellow pyjamas were damp, and there were wet spots on the bedsheet.
• Winston's small hand still pressed the cloth against Freya's forehead.
• Seeing the scene clearly, Joan was shocked and pale. "What's happening?"
• "Ms. Joan, Mommy won't wake up. Winston says Mommy's sick." Jasmine crawled to Freya's side, pointing at her with teary eyes.
• At these words, Joan hurried to check Freya's complexion. Her lips were pale, and her face was unusually flushed.
• Removing the cloth and feeling the heat, Joan quickly withdrew her hand, trying to wake Freya up. "Fae? Fae? Wake up. Stop sleeping."
• Freya lay on the bed, breathing heavily and showing no response.
• "Why won't Mommy wake up? Is it like on TV, where she won't wake up?" Jasmine, typically cute and gentle, was unexpectedly sensible at that moment.
• Winston's tiny body froze, the cloth slipping from his hand.
• The understanding of these two little ones broke Joan's heart. She comforted them gently.
• "No, no, your Mommy is just unwell. She'll wake up when she's better. Don't move. I will call an ambulance to take your Mommy to the hospital."
• The two children nodded, sitting quietly. After Joan made the call and returned, she changed their clothes, noticing their red and cold hands.
• Seeing the wet cloth on the bed, Joan suddenly understood.
• It seemed the two children, seeing Freya with a fever, had tried to cool her down with a wet cloth, just like on TV.
• In the meeting room.
• The man at the head of the table exuded a commanding presence, his cold and stern face covered with a frosty veneer. His jaw was clenched and his thin lips slightly pursed, reflecting his current bad mood.
• Everyone kept their heads down, avoiding heavy breathing.
• "If you can't find out, everyone involved in this collaboration project will be dismissed!" The man's voice was cold, tossing the documents onto the table, scattering them.
• Leo stood next to him, his expression serious.
• "I don't think I need to elaborate on the consequences of this project's leak. You all managed this project. If you still wish to work here, find out who leaked it."
• Everyone exchanged uncertain glances, clueless about the leak's source.
• No one had anticipated an incident at this crucial juncture. Finding the culprit now was akin to finding a needle in a haystack.
• Observing their uncertainty, Leo was sure that this wouldn't be an easy case to crack. He looked at the man beside him and sought permission before speaking.
• "You have two days to identify the responsible party, or expect no leniency from the company."
• "Got it."
• Everyone responded cautiously.
• With a sweeping, icy gaze, the man silenced the room with his formidable presence. No one dared lift their heads until he departed, filling the room with sighs of relief and hushed murmurs.
• Later that afternoon.
• Leo entered the president's office to deliver an update. "Mr. Jackman, as per the investigation, the project leaked from the secretary's office."
• Henry's expression darkened, his deep black eyes calm and unmoved. He tapped his fingers on the table, signalling for Leo to continue.
• Leo nodded. "The staff in the secretary's office claim they all left on time and saw no suspicious behaviour, except for Ms. Lambert, who was consistently the last to leave."
• Henry's finger-tapping abruptly stopped, his narrow eyes gleaming with a cold intensity.
• "Where is she?"
• "Ms. Lambert didn't show up for work today and didn't request leave," Leo replied honestly.
• A faint smirk crossed Henry's lips, tinged with mockery.
• "So, she's gone on the run?"