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

Chapter 56

Cordelia eyed Everard with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

His eyes betrayed no hint of fear, but his face was a shade paler than usual, perhaps from fright.

Whether he was faking it or genuinely scared, she couldn't deny her boyfriend's "reasonable request". But she did have one card up her sleeve.

With a languid voice, she offered, “I’ll just grab your breakfast then.”

That would keep Cordelia at a safer distance from Everard.

As Cordelia turned to leave, Everard rose to his feet and followed closely behind her, his voice steady, “With you here, I’m not scared at all.”

Calvert, who had been sitting silently at the table like a church mouse, was speechless. Back in the day, when their group huddled together, they used to wonder if there was anything Everard couldn’t do. They concluded that Everard might only be helpless at dating.

Now it seemed like the big man could handle even that with flair.

In his first love, Everard was already pulling off moves so suave that surprised Calvert. He resolved to demand a “mental health allowance” when he got back for being force-fed this daily dose of romantic display. This was just inhumane.

They continued their breakfast in silence.

Cordelia's phone buzzed.

She glanced at it and saw a text from Actorman, ‘Lia, I got the bag! Thanks a bunch! How much do I owe you? Send over your bank details and I’ll transfer the cash.’

She had shipped off the bag to Bland after acquiring it last week, but it was only now, seeing his message, that she remembered she hadn’t settled up with Everard.

“How much for the bag?” she inquired.

Everard swallowed his mouthful of pancakes and replied, “200.”

Cordelia texted back the details.

LearnLover replied, ‘Two hundred. Bank account is XXX.’

Actorman continued, ‘Got it, Lia. The money’s on its way.’

Cordelia didn’t give it another thought and went back to her meal.

After they finished, she pulled out her wallet and laid three hundred-dollar bills on the table, “The extra hundred's for breakfast.”

Calvert was at a loss for words.

He silently choked on his pancake as he swallowed the fact that this bag was actually worth 200 thousand.

In their group chat "Who exactly is this girl?", a heated discussion was unfolded. Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

Bland sent a message, ‘Lia’s amazing, no clue where she gets this bag without markup. She sold it to me at the original price.]

Limited edition bags were collectibles and could be sold for a premium since they were in short supply.

Stanton added, ‘Lia’s family must be loaded, not caring about this chump change. I sent her my sheet music yesterday, and she pinpointed three issues right away.’

Bland continued, ‘Designer bags are accessible with Cordelia.’

Stanton said, ‘That’s also the case for the finest tunes.’

Others thought they were loyal pursuers of Cordelia.

Someone tagged Frankie, asking, ‘How’s this girl with math?’

Frankie answered, ‘Still bet she can't do it. But probably she doesn’t even realize she's cracked Batra's Conjecture. I’ve lost hope, not everyone who joins us is a jack-of-all-trades like the boss, sigh!’

The rest offered comfort, ‘She's just a young girl. Don’t set your standards too high.’

After lunch, Cordelia headed to school.

At the school gates, a black Rolls-Royce was parked, and the driver respectfully opened the rear door. Yates, sporting a shock of red hair, stepped out in his uniform, eyes glued to his phone.

His presence exuded an untamed aura that kept his peers at a safe distance, with no one daring to come within several meters of him.

A fellow student, not noticing Yates, greeted him only when they were too close to ignore each other, “Hey, Yates.”

The young man, clearly annoyed, looked up with fiery eyes that nearly buckled the other's knees.

Yates was about to move on when someone tapped his shoulder, pushing him to the brink of rage.

“Who the hell is bothering me...” Yates was about to lash out but turned to see a pair of clear and seemingly misty eyes staring back at him.

Cordelia was expressionless, just looking at him.

Yates froze, then reluctantly muttered, “Boss Cordelia.”

Cordelia indifferently replied Yates’ greet.

The lone wolf that was Yates now meekly followed her into the school, glancing back only to notice how her backpack sagged under its weight, likely heavy, while his backpack was left in the classroom, untouched.

Pondering his next move, he overheard her curious voice, “What were you looking at just now?”

Yates instinctively locked his phone and pocketed it, “Nothing much.”

After a brief glance at her, he prepared for further questions that might require deflection.

Instead, she simply acknowledged and didn’t pursue the conversation further.

Yates was at a loss for words.

They parted ways on the third floor, with Yates quickly ascending to the top floor and his classroom.

Class 8 was known for the worst academic performance in the school, and four members of the Flame Union were among them.

Upon his arrival, Flame No. 1 rushed over, “Bro Yates!”

With a noncommittal grunt, Yates took his seat and checked his phone again. The screen displayed voting results for the National Math League’s top contender.

Apart from Jake in their province, there were two others with strong reputations in the Galaxy Math Whiz Competition.

Cordelia, however, was not favored, trailing a thousand votes behind the leader.

Yates shared the link to the group chat of Flame Union with the simple command, “Vote.”

Unaware of the online buzz, Cordelia had spent her day in the math club, reworking the dampened sections of her Batra's Conjecture.

The day flew by, and to her surprise, she finished her work a day earlier than expected, her solution clearer and more elegant than before.

To prevent any further mishaps once she got home, Cordelia took the initiative to number those scribbled pages on the spot. After she snapped pictures of what seemed like a sizable stack of thirty or forty sheets, she was ready to send them off to Mathster.

Meanwhile, in Ontoky City, Frankie was hunched over in his lab, squinting at the mathematical models on his computer screen when his phone chimed.

LearnLover asked, ‘Hello?’

Frankie let out a sigh. Is she making up another excuse to delay, huh?

He figured he shouldn't be too hard on her, so he picked up his phone to craft a message, ‘No one's cracked this Batra's Conjecture yet. You can stop trying.’

He had just finished typing but hadn't sent it when another message popped up.

LearnLover said, ‘Give me your email, I'll send you the solution.’

Frankie widened his eyes in astonishment.