The office wasn’t large. It was worlds smaller than his own, with its massive floor-to-ceiling windows.
A desk, a computer, a sofa, a few decorative items, and so potted plants.
The decor was modern and minimalist, which, surprisingly, suited his taste.
Despite its small size, the room was immaculate.
Leona Grant was an extrely picky person, yet he was surprisingly not at all put off by an office that, to him, was practically spartan.
Behind the desk stood a large bookshelf, packed with countless awards and certificates of all sizes.
This was the first ti in their two years of marriage that he had ever visited Annabelle Linton’s workplace. It wasn’t as second-rate as he had imagined; in fact, he found it rather interesting to look around.
His gaze was drawn to them, and he walked over to the certificates, his curiosity piqued.
As he got closer, he realized just how many certificates she had.
There was a certificate for a special combined master’s-doctoral program, an outstanding pharmacist award, a "Campus Belle" prize...
’So she was the campus belle, huh.’ A faint smile touched Leona Grant’s lips.
There was also a wide variety of crystal trophies, plaques, and other awards of all shapes and sizes. Leona Grant couldn’t take them all in, and his gaze finally settled on a few photographs.
The first was a photo of her with a slightly older man. Leona Grant recognized him—an authoritative expert in the dical field.
He was a legend in the dical community. The fact that Annabelle Linton had a photo with him proved she possessed considerable skill.
She looked beautiful in the photo—shy yet confident, innocent yet with a hint of allure. It was difficult to reconcile that image of her with all these accomplishnts.
But she truly was brilliant. She had earned her dical doctorate at the age of twenty. He had never known any of this.
Her lips were curved in a faint, gentle smile; you could tell at a glance that she was a sweet-tempered woman.
’Sweet-tempered...’ Leona Grant recalled how she had acted toward him the past couple of days and pursed his lips.
He didn’t realize his own deep-seated aversion to these unpleasant topics. His gaze subconsciously shifted to the next photograph.
It was a photo of Ryan Linton, her precious younger brother.
The photo looked to be about two years old. Ryan Linton hadn’t changed much since then; he still looked sunny, with a slightly roguish air about him.
The siblings looked nothing alike. One was quiet, the other rebellious.
Leona Grant subtly averted his gaze again. When he saw the last photograph, his eyes instinctively darkened.
It was another group photo.
Annabelle Linton and a young man.
The young man had a warm smile on his quiet, handso face. One of his hands rested naturally on Annabelle Linton’s shoulder, and she too was smiling sweetly, gracefully.
They looked like they were very close.
In the entire office, there were only these three photographs: her achievents, her brother, and her... Leona Grant didn’t know how to describe this mysterious person.
There was no photo of him.
However, he didn’t dwell on a stranger.
He gave an indifferent smile, though a faint flicker of disappointnt passed through him.
Footsteps sounded outside the door. Leona Grant looked up to see Annabelle Linton speaking with a patient’s family mber, a dical file in her hand.
Her hair was pulled back into a ssy bun, and she wore large, round glasses. A few stray strands of hair had fallen loose at her temples and forehead. She wore a white lab coat, its two rows of buttons undone.
While at work, she seed less cold and more professional and patient, radiating a sacred, inviolable aura.
A flash of stunned admiration passed through Leona Grant’s eyes again. He had never truly looked at her before, so he had never realized.
’So she was a beautiful woman after all.’
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