Sylvie quickly regained her composure and asked humbly, “Why do you say that?”

Klein set down his teacup, looking somewhat surprised. “With all the introductions Ms. Fielding made, did I misunderstand? I thought she was Mr. Silverstein’s subordinate, speaking on his behalf.”

This time, Jarrod finally glanced up, a faint smile curving his lips. “She’s not.”

That was all he said no further explanation about their relationship.

Elodie didn’t look their way, but she knew perfectly well: Jarrod was deliberately giving Sylvie a boost, laying the groundwork for her. Clearly, he wanted to help Sylvie break into the defense sector-a rather painstaking effort on his part.

Just then, the private dining room door swung open.

Naylor arrived, fashionably late. As he walked in, his gaze swept around the room, immediately noticing Elodie seated at his father’s right hand—so much so that even Alexander had to shift over a bit.

Everyone at the table greeted him in turn. Sylvie, having shaken off the

awkwardness from moments before, nodded to Naylor.

Klein’s expression finally relaxed at the sight of his son. He pointed to the seat next to Alexander. “Sit over here.”

That would put Naylor closer to Elodie.

Naylor didn’t object, though he couldn’t quite figure out why this dinner had been arranged in the first place.

“You know everyone here, right?” Klein asked.

Naylor hesitated, glancing at Elodie out of the corner of his eye. “More or less.”

Elodie’s gaze didn’t so much as flicker in his direction; she simply listened quietly, making no effort to greet him.

He noticed.

A subtle frown creased his brow. Was she purposely giving him the cold shoulder?

Klein, oblivious to the undercurrents, seemed content as long as everyone could sit down and share a meal. As far as he was concerned, if the first impression was decent, everything else could be worked out.

The other executives at the table began chatting, discussing industry trends and exchanging ideas with Klein.

Having stayed up most of last night with the Sterling family, deep in aerospace discussions, and then rising far too early this morning, Elodie-whose immune system was already fragile-felt a dull ache in her head and a weary heaviness in her limbs. Her body seemed more prone to spells like this lately.

Watching Klein and the others engaged in serious conversation, she didn’t want her condition to cast a shadow over the gathering. Leaning toward Alexander, she murmured, “I’m going to step outside for some air.”

Alexander noticed the pallor in her cheeks and frowned. “Want me to come with you?”

She patted his shoulder reassuringly. “No, you should stay. They need you here.”

Quietly, Elodie rose from her seat, careful not to interrupt the flow of conversation. Unfortunately, her seat was tucked toward the back, so she’d have to squeeze past several people to make her way out.

Doing her best to remain unnoticed, she slipped toward the door.

Just as she reached it, a waiter swung the door open, pushing in a cart with a steaming pot of soup. The two nearly collided.

Startled, the waiter exclaimed, “Sorry! Watch out!”

The space was cramped, and in her haste to sidestep, Elodie twisted away-only to bump her side, not too hard but not gently either, against the sharp edge of the table.

The commotion caught everyone’s attention, but Elodie couldn’t worry about that now. She clutched her abdomen, her face draining of color as cold sweat broke out across her forehead.

The point where she’d been injured flared with agony, pain radiating out and overwhelming her. Any pretense of being “just fine” was impossible to maintain.

Her vision swam, the room spinning, her consciousness slipping away.

Just as she was about to pass out, a cold, commanding voice snapped from behind, “Get the car.”

In the next instant, hurried footsteps approached, and a figure caught her as she slumped, sweeping her effortlessly into his arms and carrying her out of the room.