My Clingy CEO Husband

### Chapter 73: I Miss You So Much, Wifey~

In an instant, all eyes snapped to Lydia Thorne.

Caught completely off guard, the expression on Lydia Thorne’s face froze solid.

Maxine Rhodes, acting as if she hadn’t noticed Lydia’s rigid expression, continued in a tone that was both sincere and faintly admiring. "Everyone here has witnessed the friendship between Vice President Thorne and Mr. Hawthorne. You two had such a wonderful conversation at the last charity gala, and you always speak of him with such familiarity.

"In fact, Vice President Thorne personally told me how close they are. If we could ask her to step in, using her personal connection with Mr. Hawthorne to secure us a meeting to present our case—even just for ten minutes—we would already be a huge step ahead of everyone else."

She paused for a moment, then turned to Benjamin Sterling, her tone resolute. "This task is perfectly suited for Vice President Thorne to lead. I’m confident that with her abilities and connections, she’ll be able to secure a breakthrough for us."

This barrage of compliments put Lydia Thorne on a pedestal—one that was positioned directly over an open fire.

Benjamin Sterling’s eyes instantly lit up. "That’s right! Lydia, this is all on you! As long as you can get us a meeting with Ethan Hawthorne, the rest will be easy!"

Lydia Thorne’s face instantly turned deathly pale.

To refuse would be to admit she had been bluffing, but she had absolutely no confidence she could succeed if she accepted the task.

But in the end, her intense vanity and her desire to get close to Ethan Hawthorne won out. She braced herself and accepted, thinking, ’As long as I can see him, I’m sure I’ll have a chance with my charm!’

Under everyone’s expectant gazes, she spoke. "I’ll see what I can do."

Maxine Rhodes added with a smile, "You’re being too modest, Vice President Thorne. With your relationship with Mr. Hawthorne, won’t it just take a single phone call?"

That last comment was the final straw, crushing Lydia Thorne so much she could barely breathe. She finally understood the meaning of shooting yourself in the foot.

Long after closing time, the only light still on in the office area came from Maxine Rhodes’s office. She was focused on tweaking the details of a proposal for a third-party collaborator.

Just then, the clear sound of high heels echoed from outside the door. The door, which had been left ajar, was pushed open, and Rose Joyce swayed in, carrying a cup of steaming coffee.

"Maxine, still here? You’re working so hard."

She set the coffee down beside Maxine’s hand. "I made you some coffee. For a little pick-me-up."

Maxine didn’t lift her head, her eyes remaining fixed on the screen. She replied flatly, "Just set it down. Thanks."

Rose Joyce, unfazed by her cold reception, took it upon herself to sit in the chair across the desk. Cupping her face in her hands, she put on an expression that was both innocent and vaguely sympathetic. "If you ask me, you should just let your subordinates handle the grunt work. Why do everything yourself?"

Her gaze swept over the seemingly unimportant files on Maxine’s desk. "Take the company’s most important project, for example. Benjamin and President Thorne have been in the president’s office discussing it for ages."

She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "When I went to deliver some snacks just now, I heard Benjamin say that from now on... core, critical projects like this will have to go to people with connections and influence, like Vice President Thorne. After all, the company’s future is at stake, so it’s only right to be cautious."

She let out a soft sigh, but her eyes couldn’t conceal her smugness. "So, Maxine, I guess we’ll have to trouble you with the menial tasks from now on."

Her words were a thinly veiled declaration: ’You, Maxine Rhodes, are no longer essential to this company. You’ve been excluded from the most important affairs. I, Rose Joyce, am the real insider, the one who can freely enter the president’s office and learn all the core secrets!’

Maxine finally looked up from the screen at Rose Joyce. She wasn’t angry; her eyes were as placid as a deep pond.

"Are you finished?" she asked, her voice impassive, betraying no emotion.

Rose Joyce choked on her own words, taken aback by such a calm response. The string of taunts she had prepared died in her throat.

Maxine reached out and gently pushed the coffee cup further away, an elegant yet distant gesture. "I don’t need the coffee. I drink tea; it keeps me sharp."

Her gaze returned to the computer screen. Her fingers tapped lightly on the keyboard, followed by the crisp CLICK of the Enter key. Only then did she continue, her voice unhurried. "And another thing. I never fight for what isn’t mine. But what *is* mine,"

She paused, and when she looked up, her gaze was suddenly sharp. "No one else can take away."

She smiled faintly and added, "Assistant Joyce, if you’re so idle, perhaps you should go help Vice President Thorne figure out how she’s going to get that meeting with Mr. Hawthorne tomorrow. After all, the pressure on those in the inner circle is immense."

The smile on Rose Joyce’s face froze completely. Staring at Maxine’s composed demeanor, as if she had everything under control, Rose’s pathetic sense of superiority was instantly shattered. In its place rose a wave of baseless guilt and panic.

She forced herself to her feet and, with a weak attempt at bravado, stammered, "You... you just keep busy!" before scurrying away.

Maxine watched the door close, then coolly drew her gaze back to her work, her expression unreadable. She continued to focus on the task at hand. In the meantime, her phone, sitting off to one side, lit up several times with messages from Ethan Hawthorne.

First came a location tag for a high-end restaurant, followed by a short video. The camera panned across a private dining room filled with business associates.

Finally, a text message arrived: "I have a work dinner tonight. I’ll be home late."

Watching the weary yet still handsome profile of his face in the video, Maxine felt the corners of her lips curve into a small smile. She replied with two words: "Got it."

It was late into the night by the time she finally finished her work and returned home.

Maxine unlocked the door with her fingerprint, and the motion-sensor light in the entryway flickered on.

She had just bent down to change her shoes when a figure radiating scorching heat and reeking of alcohol emerged from the shadows, pressing her gently against the door.

Ethan Hawthorne had clearly been home for a while. He had already changed into his loungewear, and the tips of his hair were still damp from a shower, but the rich, stubborn scent of alcohol clung to his breath.

He pulled her into a tight embrace, resting his chin heavily in the hollow of her delicate shoulder. His hot breath fanned across her neck as he spoke, his voice low and raspy. "You’re finally back..."

"Ethan, are you... drunk?"

Maxine tried to push him away, but her palms only met the taut muscles of his chest and his alarmingly high temperature.

"I’m not drunk," he mumbled, burying his face deeper into her shoulder. "I missed you so much, wifey~"*****