She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 932

It was a night of absolute madness.

When Hank woke up the next morning, he instinctively reached out across the mattress, only to grasp empty air. His eyes snapped open. "Giselle?"

The bedroom was completely empty. Tossing the duvet aside, he threw on a robe and didn't even bother with shoes as he stormed out into the hallway and pounded on the adjacent door. Silence. His expression instantly darkened.

A dozen agonizing scenarios flashed through his mind. Had she slept with him and just bolted? Was she walking away from him again?

"What exactly are you doing?"

Hank whipped around. Giselle was standing down the hall, holding a cardboard tray of coffees and paper bags filled with pastries, her brow furrowed as she took in his disheveled appearance.

Seeing her walking Chloe Nash back to her room, the storm clouds in Hank's eyes vanished instantly. "I thought you got what you wanted and made a run for it."

Chloe, leaning heavily on her crutches, looked absolutely scandalized. Reading the room like a professional, she snatched her coffee and pastry bag from Giselle. "I'm just going to... go back to my room. Let's pack up and head out whenever you're ready."

Giselle walked over to Hank. "I went to go pick Chloe up and grabbed some breakfast. Do you want some?"

"Obviously," Hank replied, a smug smile tugging at his lips as he followed her back into the bedroom. He hovered for a second before carefully asking, "So... are we officially back together?"

Giselle gave him a sideways glance. "You're on probation."

Hank took a sip of his coffee, completely unfazed. "Are you going to tell Gigi that I'm her dad?"

"No." Giselle shook her head firmly. "We'll figure that out later."

And just like that, Hank and Giselle entered this delicate, unspoken 'probationary period'.

Back in Metropia, Emma had no idea what had actually transpired in Yarnwick City. All she knew was that she had received a sudden phone call from Myles Egan, where he hurriedly apologized, declared he wasn't good enough for Giselle, and hung up before she could even ask for an explanation.

Emma immediately assumed Hank was behind it. The second Giselle walked through the front door, she launched into a panicked rant. "How could Hank do this?! Loyce promised me he wouldn't interfere! Why is he going back on his word? Is he determined to ruin your life? Dr. Egan was a perfectly nice man, so gentle and respectable! Why can't Hank just let you be happy?!"

"Mom." Giselle dropped her briefcase on the table and rubbed her temples. "Hank had nothing to do with Myles breaking things off."

"You're actually defending him?" Emma stared at her in disbelief. "Don't tell me you're..."

This wasn't some incredibly rare, ancient artifact. It was a luxury silk alternative she had spent the better part of a year developing alongside that small factory in Yarnwick City. It utilized an advanced blend of eco-friendly Tencel and ultra-fine modal, subjected to an exclusive enzyme-washing process.

The drape, the luster, the breathability—it vastly outperformed the top-tier mulberry silks she usually sourced. More importantly, it cost a quarter of the price.

Giselle picked up her phone and dialed Jean Morgan, a rare thrill of excitement in her voice. "Jean, do you have some time tomorrow afternoon?"

Jean let out a knowing laugh. "Absolutely. I've been dying to see the final results. Let's say three o'clock. I'll have my assistant clear the schedule."

The next afternoon, Giselle arrived at Jean's office right on time. She brought the comprehensive partnership proposal, complete with lab testing reports, garment mockup renders, and a localized marketing rollout plan.

Jean rubbed the fabric swatch between her fingers, testing its resilience before spreading it out on her desk. When she looked up, her gaze was sharp. "You're going to completely shatter the Metropia market monopoly with this."

"And the production cost is roughly half of what Chadwick Dawson's factories are charging." Giselle tapped a specific page in the proposal. "The blend is sixty percent ultra-fine modal, thirty percent Tencel, and ten percent pure silk, finished with our proprietary three-stage treatment. Long story short: you can't buy this anywhere else. It gives us the premium texture and the cost-efficiency we need. Furthermore, this is an exclusive supply contract. This fabric will only belong to Bloomberry."

Giselle pulled the prepared contracts from her briefcase and slid them across the desk. "It's a long-term renewal agreement. Just needs your signature."

Jean didn't even hesitate. She signed the papers and pulled Giselle into a tight hug. "I owe you everything for this."