Overbearing CEO's Contract Love
Chapter 257: Covered in Chicken Manure

Chapter 257: Covered in Chicken Manure

Logan Harrington climbed out of Amelia Davidson’s car, his face pale as death, while a smug Amelia seemed quite pleased with herself for having given him a thorough dressing-down to curb his rambling.

Logan staggered toward the nearby bushes, looking as if he might vomit out his entire insides.

This man needed to be put in his place; he had been getting out of line lately.

After he finally vomited, Logan felt slightly relieved. He glanced at Amelia, who stood there with her long, wavy hair and a sensuously professional, low-cut outfit, and muttered under his breath, "She really is heartless!"

At that moment, Amelia took a bottle of mineral water from the car. Hearing Logan’s mumbling, she glared at him, "What did you say?"

Catching sight of the water in Amelia’s hand, Logan felt a warmth in his heart—she was thinking of him after all. He quickly plastered a smile on his face, "Oh, nothing, I was just saying how nice you are!"

Amelia, unimpressed, hurled the water bottle at Logan and hopped back into the car, slamming the gas pedal as she drove off.

Logan had just twisted the cap off the bottle and hadn’t even had a sip when Amelia was already speeding away, leaving him in the middle of nowhere—no cars in sight on this desolate stretch of road. This woman was truly ruthless...

Logan didn’t bother with anything else and sprinted toward the direction of Amelia’s disappearing car, shouting, "Don’t leave me here! Hey!"

Through the rearview mirror, Amelia saw Logan racing after her at nearly Olympic sprinter speed. She rolled down her window, waved at him with a victorious smile, and floored the accelerator, leaving nothing but exhaust fumes for Logan.

Breathless and exhausted, Logan halted, sighing deeply. This woman was truly merciless!

Frantically, Logan patted himself down, his expression suddenly shifting as he bent down to continue searching, "Where’s my phone?"

He looked up at the endless, winding road ahead, realizing that he had left his phone in the car when he got out.

Logan clutched his forehead in despair. Stranded in the wilderness, it looked like he’d have to walk back.

"Oh my God!"

In that moment, Logan fell to his knees, praying for a car to take him back.

Three hours later, Logan appeared at the door of Damien Sterling’s office.

The secretary, noticing Logan’s bizarre appearance, couldn’t help but laugh, her cheeks flushed—either from too much blush or from trying not to laugh.

"Mr. Harrington, what happened to you?"

Logan was exhausted. All he wanted now was to find a place to rest. He made his way straight to Damien Sterling’s office.

The secretary, knowing how much Damien valued cleanliness and aware that Logan was Damien’s close friend, reluctantly covered her nose and stepped back two meters from the odorous Logan. Could she really let him in?

The secretary decided to go ahead and announce the arrival, hurriedly making her way to the president’s office, "Mr. Harrington, perhaps I should announce your arrival first."

"There’s no need for an announcement, would my brother really not let me in?" Logan Harrington called out from behind, a tone of resignation in his voice.

The secretary rushed into the office, trying to suppress her laughter, but the sight of Logan Harrington outside made it impossible, "Mr. Sterling... Mr. Harrington wishes to come in."

"Let him in," came the response.

"But Mr. Harrington..." The secretary paused, struggling to keep a straight face, "Mr. Harrington is covered in feathers."

"Feathers?"

"Yes, and he smells awful."

Damien Sterling’s expression contorted. What had Logan gotten into in such a short time? What misfortune had he encountered?

Following the secretary out of the office, Damien was immediately assaulted by the stench emanating from Logan, which made him furrow his brow in disgust. Logan, noticing the same reaction from Damien and the secretaries, felt pushed away.

"Is this how you treat a good brother?" Logan pointed at Damien.

Approaching Damien, Logan’s once-white suit was now a dark grimy shade. His normally impeccable hairstyle was dotted with feathers, and the overpowering smell of chicken manure filled the entire floor, reminiscent of a poultry farm.

Damien could barely stand the foul odor, covering his nose as he rebuked Logan, "Where have you been?"

"I’ve been experiencing the rural life!" Logan joked, "Amelia Davidson left me in the mountains, and I forgot my phone in her car. It took me two hours walking before I saw a truck transporting chickens. What was I supposed to do?"

"A chicken truck?" Damien couldn’t help but burst into laughter, and the secretary couldn’t contain herself either. The disheveled Logan’s explanation made sense in such a situation.

Amid the laughter, Damien mercilessly called security to escort Logan out, "Come back after you’ve taken a shower."

Turning to return to his office, Damien felt as if the entire floor had been contaminated by Logan. Recalling the argument he had earlier with that woman and her aggrieved expression, Damien began to ponder whether he had been too harsh.

His phone beeped with a reminder: Prenatal checkup.

He had specifically asked Mrs. Harris and the doctor, then noted it on his phone himself—a first, as typically all his meetings were scheduled by his assistant or secretary. This was the first time he had set a reminder for something personally.

Emma Hart’s figure lingered in Damien Sterling’s mind, an image he couldn’t shake. He wondered about her mood at this moment. Despite his concern, the idea of Damien cajoling a woman was foreign to him; after all, such a gesture was unprecedented in his repertoire.

Moreover, was there really anything wrong with insisting that she stay home from work and rest properly?

Unable to dispel her image, he decided to go home directly. "Call the driver!" he commanded.

At the Sterling Group villa, Mrs. Harris was busy packing a large carry-on bag, muttering to herself, "Last check-up’s report, water bottle, tissues..."

Emma, however, urged her not to overprepare. "Mrs. Harris, there’s no need for all this; it’s just a check-up. Besides, they have everything we need there."

Damien Sterling’s choices were always meticulously serviced; after all, anything that money could buy was never a problem in Damien’s world, and his arrangements were foolproof.

Emma, pulling Mrs. Harris to leave, wasn’t in the best of spirits—just feeling gloomy and needing a walk. Mostly, it probably had something to do with that man.

As Emma opened the door, she unexpectedly ran into Damien Sterling. Was she hallucinating? Emma checked her watch—it was not even four o’clock yet. Why was he home so early?

She took a moment to confirm that the man before her was indeed Damien Sterling. Only he had the stature of a wall—tall and imposing—and even his icy face seemed colder than the chill wind outside.

It was definitely Damien Sterling, no doubt about it. But why had he come home so early? To accompany her to a prenatal checkup? What could he possibly understand about that? And wasn’t he supposed to be swamped with work?

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