Chapter 559: Meeting Eric

Eric laughed but said little. Cecilia is indeed wonderful. If not for her encouragement and music, I'd still be a nobody. After dismissing his agent, he eagerly questioned his father about Paula's fabricated brain cancer diagnosis. Alan revealed he'd found Paula's medical records through his contacts; they weren't hers.

"Great. Send me the evidence," Eric said.

"Sure, but when will you bring home a wife?" Alan asked.

Eric's spirits plummeted. Ines brought food, chuckling, "A whole slew of people online want to marry Eric, but who'd have thought he can't even bring home a girl?" Alan sighed.

"Mom, celebrities don't date," Eric said with a smile. His parents, truly helpless regarding his dating life, ceased their persistent inquiries.

Alan subsequently sent Eric the evidence. That night, Eric forwarded it to Cecilia, who profusely thanked him.

"Don't just thank me with words. You owe me a meal."

"Alright, can I treat you tomorrow?"

"Of course."

Cecilia hung up, laughing. Nathaniel, observing from the side, wondered who had made her so happy.

"Did Vivian call?" he asked.

"No, it's a friend," Cecilia replied. She then reminded Elliot, "Eli, I have plans tomorrow. You must stay home, alright? Please don't go out."

Elliot nodded. "Alright."

After sending the evidence to her lawyer, Cecilia went to bed early. Nathaniel couldn't sleep. He vaguely heard the voice on the phone—it wasn't a woman. However, he decided against further investigation; Cecilia's anger wouldn't be worth it.

The next morning, Cecilia left with Sven driving. Nathaniel went to work, visibly distracted.

"Is anyone following them?" he asked.

"Sven's driving. Our people can't keep up," Mason replied helplessly. His skills are exceptional; an average bodyguard is no match.

"Do you know where they went?" Nathaniel pressed.

"Maple House."

Nathaniel rose, Mason following quickly. In Maple House's private dining room, Eric removed his sunglasses and mask, having waited some time. He'd ordered all of Cecilia's favorite dishes. His eyes lit up when he saw her approaching. He waved. "Cecilia."

In Cecilia's memory, Eric was a bright, handsome boy. After a year or two, she saw he'd tanned; despite winter, he wore light clothing and appeared stronger, more mature.

After settling, Cecilia handed him the sheet music.

"That's quick!" Eric exclaimed. "You're a genius to write a song so fast."

"It's a first draft," Cecilia explained. "Try it; if anything doesn't fit, I'll adjust it."

"Whatever you write will fit."

Eric neatly arranged the music.

"Back then, you could have sung yourself. Your voice has always been beautiful."

Cecilia unconsciously clenched her fist. It wasn't a lack of talent, but her voice was too soft—unacceptable for a professional singer. Eric immediately realized his misstep.

"Goodness, that was insensitive."

"It's alright, let's eat."

"Okay."

Over dinner, Eric inquired about Cecilia's recent life.