Silas Thorne held the cup, his expression calm as ever.
“You drank from this?
Do you mind?”
“Yes!”
“Then you can have it back.”
As Silas Thorne spoke, he actually began to hand the cup of ginger tea to her.
Joyce Monroe bit her lip.
‘Even if he gives it back, I can’t drink it now.’
She remembered how he had snatched her drink just like this when she was eighteen.
‘Shameless!’
Joyce Monroe picked up the other cup of ginger tea from the table and took two sips, but she really couldn’t stomach any more.
Since her grandmother happened to be away and the staff were busy with their own tasks, Joyce Monroe scooted closer to him.
“Mr.
Thorne, what did you say to Julian Griffin earlier?
Why did he bolt right after seeing you?”
“Just a bit of idle chat.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“He wanted to hit on my wife, so I had a brief ‘chat’ with him.” Silas Thorne looked at Joyce Monroe.
“Why aren’t you drinking?”
“It’s burning my throat.”
“Drink up.
It’ll ward off the cold.”
“But why did he really leave?
He didn’t even stay for dinner.”
Joyce Monroe wanted to press him for details about his conversation with Julian Griffin, but Silas Thorne simply said, “Speaking of which, does your grandmother know you hired eight…
for your birthday?”
“Alright, drop the subject!”
“Drink the ginger tea.”
“Fine.” Joyce Monroe gritted her teeth, took a deep breath, and downed the ginger tea.
The sharp taste made her face scrunch up, but her only reward was the sound of a certain someone’s mocking laughter beside her, leaving her fuming.
The worst part was, he hadn’t drunk his.
“Mr.
Thorne, it’s your turn to drink your ginger tea.” Joyce Monroe remembered him saying he disliked ginger.
Silas Thorne raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t like it.
I’m not drinking it.”
“You…”
‘He doesn’t like it either, so what gives him the right to not drink it after threatening me into downing a whole cup!’
‘He’s infuriating!’
‘Am I really going to be under his thumb for the rest of my life just because of the male model incident?’
‘No way.’
‘I have to get some dirt on him!’
So, while her grandmother returned with a vintage bottle and started chatting with Silas Thorne, she seized the opportunity to secretly text her older brother: [Bro, do you know if Mr.
Thorne has any dirt on him?]
[Mr.
Thorne?]
Kian Jacobs was still working overtime.
He sighed in resignation when he saw the message.
[You’re married to him, and you still call him that?]
[That’s not important.
Just tell me what his secrets are.]
[What kind of secrets?]
[Like, any embarrassing moments, or something he wouldn’t want anyone to know.]
[Are you trying to get leverage on him?
Walk all over him?
Or did he bully you, and you want to threaten him?]
Joyce Monroe took a deep breath.
‘That’s my brother, alright.
He’s always spot on.’ [It’s not that he bullied me.
It’s just…
he always looks so high and mighty, so unflappable.
I’m curious what he’d look like if he were flustered.]
[Pounce on him again and you’ll see.]
[…]
Joyce Monroe gritted her teeth in frustration.
She soon got another reply from her brother.
He wrote: [Thorne’s biggest secret…]
[Is being secretly married to you.]
‘His biggest secret…’
‘Is me?’
Joyce Monroe stared at her brother’s message, rereading it.
The words had a way of stirring up thoughts she shouldn’t have.
Besides, he still has that “one that got away.”
It was strange, though.
She’d only ever heard rumors of this person’s existence.
No one knew her name or what she looked like; even his own brother didn’t seem to know.
They should have started dinner long ago, but because of Silas Thorne’s unexpected visit, Mrs.
Monroe had insisted on adding a few more dishes, delaying the meal.
By the time Joyce put her phone away, she noticed her grandmother had pulled out an old photo album.
“…This is Kian when he was just born.
So chubby,” Mrs.
Monroe said, pointing to a faded photograph.
“I even have a picture from his 100-day celebration.
Look at him in all red, wasn’t he adorable?”
“He was.”
Although they were like brothers, this was the first time Silas Thorne had seen photos of Kian Jacobs from this age.
He flipped through the album, intrigued.
“Look, this is the siblings’ first photo together, right after Joyce was born.
That boy, Kian, he knew how to dote on his little sister from the very beginning,” Mrs.
Monroe said with a smile.
“There’s a five-year age gap, after all.
Back then, the moment he got out of school, he would rush home to see Joyce.”
“The two of them have been close since they were children.”
Silas Thorne nodded.
There were quite a few photos of the two of them together.
Since Joyce Monroe’s parents—the Monroes—divorced when she was four, the photos became scarcer as he turned the pages…
Photos of the siblings together gradually gave way to solo pictures of Joyce Monroe.
Her photos jumped from age ten to sixteen, and the time she’d spent in the countryside seemed to be a complete blank.
“This is a picture of Joyce from high school,” Mrs.
Monroe said, pointing to Joyce in her school uniform.
“Looking at these photos makes me feel a bit wistful.
In my memory, it feels like just yesterday that Joyce was learning to babble, and now she’s already graduated and has a job.”
Just then, a member of the staff came to announce that dinner was ready.
“Mr.
Thorne, we’re ready to serve dinner now.”
“Please, just call me Silas.”
“In that case, don’t call me Mrs.
Monroe.
Just call me Monroe is fine.” Mrs.
Monroe said, getting to her feet.
Silas Thorne, however, was still flipping through the album.
The photos were arranged chronologically.
Soon, photos showed Joyce Monroe had made friends.
Lily Kennedy, the friend from the club, began to appear frequently.
“Stop looking and let’s go eat.” There were always some embarrassing photos in an album.
Joyce Monroe tried to close it, but Silas Thorne moved it out of her reach.
Suddenly, his gaze froze, and his fingers tightened on the album.
Because in one of the photos…
…beneath a hibiscus tree, a girl in a school uniform was looking up at a boy, her smile radiant.
Her laughter was vibrant and unrestrained, and the boy looking down at her had an equally gentle look in his eyes.
‘How could I not recognize him?’
Her…
…ex-boyfriend.
The boy appeared in a few more photos after that.
There weren’t many, but a young girl’s crush is impossible to hide.
Even if you don’t say it, the affection escapes through your eyes.
He had already learned bits and pieces about Joyce Monroe and her ex-boyfriend from Kian Jacobs long ago.
Kian Jacobs was extremely protective of his sister.
The moment he found out she had a crush on someone, he ran a thorough background check on the boy’s family and even flew to Graymoor overnight.
After returning to Northgate, he said only one thing:
“If I ever lose control and murder that bastard, I’m entrusting my sister to you.”
At the time, Silas Thorne had just laughed.
“You met the kid?”
“No, just saw him from a distance.”
“Don’t like him?”
“He just rubs me the wrong way.
The more I looked, the more I disliked him.”
“…”
Silas Thorne laughed.
“You’re not the one dating him.
As long as your sister likes him, it’s fine.”
“She’s head over heels right now.
Don’t interfere too much, or you’ll damage your relationship with her.”
He’d even tried to talk Kian Jacobs down back then.
Back when he found out Joyce Monroe had a crush, Silas Thorne hadn’t cared.
It was perfectly normal for a teenage girl to have her first crush.
In fact…
…he had been secretly pleased.
After all, if she married someone else, he wouldn’t have to call a girl six years his junior “sister-in-law.”
But now, seeing the photo, he had to agree with Kian Jacobs:
‘That guy really does get more hateable the more you look at him!’
Joyce Monroe scrambled to reach over, slamming the album shut with a sharp SNAP.
“Mr.
Thorne, there’s nothing to see here.
Let’s go eat!”
She snatched the album away, not daring to let Silas Thorne flip any further.
‘Why are there still photos of him in the house?’
Silas Thorne’s expression was placid as Mrs.
Monroe accompanied him to his seat at the dining table.
Joyce Monroe, however, was carefully watching his expression, her heart pounding with anxiety.
‘My current husband just saw photos of me with my ex-boyfriend?’
‘This is so awkward!’
‘We’re just putting on an act.
He shouldn’t…
he wouldn’t get genuinely angry, would he?’