I Married the President

The cars’ origins were easier to trace. Apparently, they had been purchased by several anonymous, wealthy benefactors, and all the paperwork was in order. Plus, no one had reported any of them stolen.

In other words, the cars were all legitimate.

Claire Sinclair was so frustrated that she posted a message on Weibo: "Hey, Big Bro, if you’re going to send gifts, could you please send something with a bit more sincerity? At least let me know who you are, okay?"

As soon as she posted it, the comments section on Weibo blew up.

[Shameless, hinting for people to send you gifts!]

[Haven’t hit your numbers recently? Is that why you’re desperately hinting for clients to send you gifts?]

[She must be broke. Why else would she ask people to send her gifts?]

[Say what you will, taking bribes is a black mark for life!]

[So shameless! Anyone who sends you a gift is an idiot!]

Claire Sinclair casually glanced at the comments. Seeing so many vitriolic posts, she realized that a lot of haters had infiltrated her fanbase.

’How strange. All I did this past week was make this one post. I haven’t done anything else. Why would I suddenly have so many haters for no reason?’

Claire Sinclair couldn’t figure it out, and her mood grew increasingly foul.

’Whatever. No point in overthinking it. Time for lunch.’

Claire Sinclair met up with a few colleagues, and they all went for noodles at a small shop near the press office.

Just as she was finishing her meal, her phone suddenly buzzed.

Claire Sinclair checked the message. To her surprise, it was a string of processed code that, when translated, read: Happy Birthday.

’Orion Osborne?’

He was the first person she thought of, but something about the code felt strange. It didn’t seem like Orion Osborne’s style.

’Oh, forget it. Why waste time thinking about it? I should figure out how I’m going to celebrate my birthday tonight.’

’Mr. Quincy is so busy, he probably won’t have time for me. Maybe after work, I’ll just make myself some longevity noodles. A simple wish for good health and a long life will be enough.’

Back at the press office that afternoon, Claire Sinclair seemed distracted. She had little enthusiasm for her work, and her writing came out bland and uninspired.

When quitting time finally arrived, Claire Sinclair immediately headed back to Evergreen Garden.

But as soon as she reached the entrance, she saw a small mountain of packages piled up in the courtyard. Several delivery vans were parked nearby, their drivers still unloading more boxes.

Claire Sinclair froze. ’There’s more?’

After the delivery drivers finished unloading, they handed Claire Sinclair several thick stacks of packing slips before leaving.

Staring at the mountain of packages in front of her door, Claire Sinclair thought, ’How long is it going to take to unwrap all of this?’

’This is so annoying. I can’t even have a peaceful birthday.’

Claire Sinclair took out her phone, snapped a picture of the pile, and sent it to Adrian Quincy. Then she went inside, not wanting to deal with any of it.

She had planned on making noodles, but she wasn’t in the mood anymore. Instead, she lay on the sofa and started playing a game on her phone.

A commotion outside finally caught her attention. She walked to the window and saw Aiden Howkins arriving with a few other people. They started opening the packages.

Just then, a black sedan pulled up to the gate. It was his car!

Claire’s heart tightened. ’He’s home already? It’s so early!’

Soon, Adrian Quincy walked into the house. Without a word, he pulled her into a kiss that left her head spinning.

When the kiss ended, he finally spoke. "Claire, happy birthday."

Blushing, Claire Sinclair asked softly, "Where’s my present?"

The corners of Adrian Quincy’s lips lifted into a slight smile. "Isn’t your present right in front of you?"

Claire Sinclair raised an eyebrow. "Are you giving yourself to me?"

"Don’t you like it?" Adrian Quincy teased.