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

Chapter 55

Frankie didn't hold this little girl in contempt.

After all, she was just a high school student. It would be normal for her to struggle with the problem. But deep down, he harbored a glimmer of hope.

He was getting on in years, and his progress in the realm of mathematics had plateaued. He was eager to nurture more new talents.

As the leading math wizard in this country, Frankie had once encountered a prodigy in the field, someone he thought could shine in the world of mathematics. Unfortunately, that individual shrouded in mystery and burdened with heavy responsibilities couldn't drop everything to pursue math.

Frankie had reluctantly let go, or rather, he didn't dare disturb him. He had thought that after so many years, he might have found another.

After all, anyone who made it into that group chat was extraordinary.

He chuckled at himself, thinking perhaps he was the one who was delusional.

That little girl hadn't claimed to be good at math. It was Frankie’s desire to take on a student that had led him to test her with a mathematical problem. If her piano skills were as impressive as they said, how could she also be a math whiz?

As the academic conference drew to a close, Frankie was about to leave when a professor from the math department at Top Crest Academy approached him. "Did you hear about the winner of this year's Galaxy Math Whiz Competition?" the professor asked. NôvelDrama.Org: owner of this content.

Superiority College and Top Crest Academy were the two top institutions in the country, both located in Ontoky City. They were both competitors and collaborators.

Frankie shook his head, replying, "Isn't there always a first place?"

The man couldn't wait to share the news. "She scored a perfect score at the Galaxy Math Whiz Competition!"

To Frankie, competitions like the Galaxy Math Whiz were trivial, and he never took them seriously. "That doesn't prove anything. The real test is the National League."

At Greenmeadow.

By mid-September, the air had turned brisk. One could feel the chill in the morning and evening, prompting Cordelia to don her school jacket over her uniform.

With her white cap perched atop her head and a hefty backpack slung over her shoulders, she stepped off the bus in front of Midnight Scent.

Autumn was approaching, and the leaves along the roadside were beginning to turn yellow. At this hour, vendors were hawking breakfast on either side of the street.

Cordelia was a head-turner. Wherever she went, she drew attention. She tugged at her cap, ignoring the gazes around her, and made her way into Midnight Scent.

Immediately upon entering, she felt something was off.

The usually empty shop was now occupied by a motley crew of seven or eight men with buzz cuts and an assortment of attire. They all turned to look at her as she entered.

The leader, a man with a scar slashing across his face, fierce and foreboding, paused when he saw Cordelia and tried to muster a conciliatory smile.

Cordelia was momentarily confused.

These seemed to be the local toughs who demanded protection money. Was the leader's grimace a warning for her to stay out of it?

Her gaze instinctively drifted to the counter.

Everard, the usual picture of lethargic elegance, sat in the dim light, a book in hand. Despite merely being the proprietor of a small shop, he carried an air of nobility that outshone the wealthy gentry.

But at that moment, his chiseled face was set in a frown, his jaw clenched, his deep eyes clouded with displeasure. Clearly, he was not pleased.

No one would be happy about being extorted for protection money.

Under the watchful eyes of the men, Cordelia sidled over to a shelf as if to browse, signaling that she was just a customer.

She didn't really notice what was on the shelves and her attention was on Everard.

At that moment, a thought sprang to mind.

If Everard was to be killed by these thugs, would the curse she bore be lifted?

As the thought flickered through her mind, a sharp pain seized her chest, more intense than any she'd felt before. It felt as if even breathing hurt!

Damn it! Of course, it wouldn't work.

Despite her usual indifference, she couldn't help but curse inwardly.

How could she stand by and watch the person she loved be harmed? The mere thought caused her unbearable pain.

Taking a deep breath, though she seethed inside, Cordelia stepped towards Everard and positioned herself in front of him, asking, "Short on protection money?"

Everard was never penniless as a member of the Watkins family. So hearing her question, Everard was shocked. When he didn't respond, she took it as an admission, "Then give it to me."

Everard, about to explain, snapped his mouth shut at her words.

She then turned to the thugs, her voice cool and deliberate, "My boyfriend is a bit timid, so if you have any business, it's with me."

After speaking, Cordelia took a step back, leaned forward slightly, and raised her fists, ready in a boxing stance. Her face was tense, as if she were about to take on the thugs herself.

From Everard's angle, he could see her perfect profile beneath the cap, the delicate nose, the slightly curled lashes, the moist and cherry-red lips. She looked impeccable.

Everard, who was earlier seething over the incompetence of his underlings, felt his anger melt away at the sight, his stern facade relaxing into a faint smile.

The would-be thugs were baffled. They glanced between Everard and the girl, completely flabbergasted.

What had they just witnessed? Did the girl just call their boss her... boyfriend? And did she just say he was... timid?

They all cast wary glances at Everard, only to see the man, usually feared by everyone, lazily lean his arm on the table, his face resting on his hand. At that moment, his eyes shimmered with a mix of fierceness and allure as he spoke softly, "Yes, I’m scared. They do seem quite frightening."

The rest of the people present were all silent.

"Girl, protect me, please."

Those thugs were stupefied. How could their boss have no shame? They thought so.

While they were zoning out, Cordelia sprang into action as soon as Everard confirmed that the goons had come to collect protection money.

The scar-faced man was hurt by a series of swift jabs straight from a military manual and went down hard on the pavement.

The rest of the crew shuddered and took a few steps back, watching as the petite girl approached with an expression as cool as a cucumber. They wanted to say, "Hey, lady, listen, we're just here to pay the dues!"

But whether they spoke up or not, they were in for a beating. If not from fierce Cordelia, then from their boss.

After a quick cost-benefit analysis, they scrambled away in a less than dignified manner.

Cordelia rubbed her knuckles and flexed her wrists, giving Everard a sidelong glance. "They're gone."

Everard hung his head and sighed, "They'll be back."

Cordelia paused for a beat, "Fine, you can call me if you need to."

Then she glanced at the breakfast spread that was already laid out on the table and said to Everard, "Let's eat."

But Everard didn't move.

With a puzzled look, Cordelia turned towards him, just in time to hear him say in a 'weakened' voice, "I'm... traumatized."

Cordelia was speechless.

"My legs are like jelly. I can't walk." His tone was ambiguously flirtatious and lazily nonchalant, "Guess I need someone to help you over there."