It had to be said that Zoe Lancaster was more than a little nervous. Of course, she hoped the man from that night was Simon Hawthorne—whether to resolve her current crisis, or... because of her own selfish desires.
To share a connection with the man she had loved for four years—it was inevitable that she would harbor a momentary glimmer of hope.
"But since my brother didn’t give you his number, he clearly doesn’t want to be bothered by you. Don’t drag me down and get me scolded too," Mercy Hawthorne said, crossing her arms, her tone brimming with arrogant sarcasm.
Zoe ignored her.
Her palms began to sweat until she got a clear look at the number in Mercy’s contacts.
It started with 188.
It wasn’t the number of the "male escort" she had saved in her phone.
Zoe’s suspended heart suddenly felt like it was filled with lead, plummeting heavily and leaving her dizzy. She swallowed hard to moisten her dry throat. "Does he have another number?"
Losing her patience, Mercy snatched the phone back. "He has a work number. Ask my brother yourself."
Zoe’s face turned pale.
To have her hopes raised only to be dashed felt as agonizing as having her bones pulled out.
"You didn’t stir up any trouble, did you? I’m warning you, the Hawthorne family is a century-old lineage that values reputation above all else. A woman from a lowly background like you had better not tarnish the Hawthorne family name!" Sensing that something was wrong, Mercy questioned her sharply.
Zoe lacked the energy to deal with her anymore. "Don’t worry. I’m not that capable."
The circumstances of her marriage to Simon Hawthorne were a private agreement between the two of them. The Hawthorne family was entirely unaware of their three-year contract, so they were merely keeping up appearances.
Mercy chuckled lightly at her response. "True. My brother flew to Kaelan the day after your wedding and hasn’t returned in two years. You have a husband who doesn’t love you and isn’t even interested in having mindless sex with you. If it were any other neglected woman in a marriage, perhaps she’d at least have the hope of bearing an heir to secure her position. But you can’t even manage that... What a failure."
The words were blunt and venomous.
They brutally battered Zoe’s self-esteem and her unrequited love until they were a bloody mess.
But she couldn’t refute them.
It was the truth.
She turned and walked away without a word, lacking the strength to cope.
Mercy frowned as she watched Zoe’s devastated departure. She dialed Simon’s number without hesitation. "Simon, there’s something wrong with that Lancaster woman. I just ran into her, and she inexplicably asked me for your number. You just returned to the country. Is this woman trying to pull a stunt?"
A man’s deep, magnetic, and cold voice came through the receiver. "What did you call her?"
The statement was utterly unruffled, yet it sent a chill down Mercy’s spine, forcing her to reluctantly correct herself. "Zoe..."
"Where are you?"
"Riverbend Tavern. She’s got it good, knowing how to live it up."
"Understood."
Simon offered no extra words, hanging up as soon as he finished speaking.
Mercy didn’t dare voice her grievances.
Global Trade Concourse Central Tower.
Having signed the final document, Simon put down his fountain pen. He stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the dazzling lights of the central business district, lost in thought.
"Mr. Hawthorne." Secretary Linden knocked and entered. "Mrs. Hawthorne just called to ask if you’re returning to The Imperial Residence today. She probably wants to see you."
Simon glanced at the phone on his desk, recalling Mercy’s earlier call.
He lowered his eyelashes. Clad in a dark gray suit vest, his physique exuded an explosive sexual tension. The cascading reflections of light from the window illuminated him with a sense of intoxicating decadence, creating a powerful visual impact. He was a beast in a suit, hidden beneath a seemingly refined and aristocratic exterior.
"What else did she say?"
Secretary Linden reported truthfully, "Nothing else."
Simon’s lips curled up in an enigmatic half-smile. "Reply to her: it depends."
Secretary Linden paused. "...Then, should Mrs. Hawthorne wait for you or not?"
Mr. Hawthorne clearly didn’t have any other social engagements today.
Simon shot him a faint glance. "Are you very concerned about her?"
A sudden chill ran down Secretary Linden’s spine, and he scrambled to say, "I’ll go reply to Mrs. Hawthorne right away!"
Zoe sat stiffly on the living room sofa of Simon’s luxurious mansion at The Imperial Residence. The living room lamps were bright, yet an inescapable shadow clung to her.
Secretary Linden had said, "Mr. Hawthorne said it depends. Please do as you see fit, Mrs. Hawthorne."
It wasn’t a definitive answer.
Zoe was in absolute agony. Right now, she only wanted to quickly probe for the truth. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.
Checking the time, she saw it was already approaching one in the morning.
Under such high tension, her drowsiness was completely gone. She had originally wanted to call Secretary Linden again to ask, but ultimately gave up on the idea, lest Simon find her clingy and annoying.
Ultimately, Simon did not return to The Imperial Residence.
Zoe ended up waiting all night. Before dawn, she slumped over the sofa and slept for less than an hour. Then, she hurried back to her apartment to freshen up and change clothes. Having barely slept all night, she didn’t dare drive, her mental state teetering on the edge of collapse.
Sitting at her cubicle, the intern next to her, Summer Thorne, sidled over. "Zoe, Director Carter wants you to deliver the data report on Stella Joyce’s online PR reception from yesterday to the CEO’s office."
At the mention of the CEO’s office, Zoe’s drooping eyelids fluttered upward.
"Okay."
Director Carter was only making her deliver it because the two of them were the only ones who knew the "secret" of Simon’s hidden marriage, and he figured it was best not to rock the boat.
And last night, even though Simon knew she would be waiting for him at The Imperial Residence, he still hadn’t come home all night.
Zoe massaged her throbbing temples, smiling bitterly at having to swallow the bitter pills she had sown.
Stimulated by the situation with Simon and Stella Joyce, she had taken one wrong step. Now, she had to keep a tight string on herself every day, forced to act the part of a virtuous wife while enduring the torment of her secret potentially being exposed.
Yet, she seemed to have been a victim as well.
DING.
The elevator arrived at the CEO’s office floor.
Zoe composed herself and stepped out of the elevator, running right into Secretary Linden. The moment he saw her, his expression shifted unnaturally for a split second. "Mr—Miss Lancaster, are you here to deliver the data report?"
Zoe nodded, glancing from the corner of her eye at Simon’s tightly shut office door. "Should I take it inside to him?"
Secretary Linden’s eyes flickered. "I can deliver it."
He reached out to take it.
Zoe instantly realized something.
She bypassed Secretary Linden and strode briskly to the office door. Uncontrollable thoughts clamored in her mind. Would there be an indecent scene happening behind this door? Could she push open this door of deception and let the world see that the famous, pure sweetheart of the nation, Stella Joyce, was actually a shameless homewrecker who ruined someone else’s marriage?
But as her palm rested against the door panel, Zoe hesitated.
She shouldn’t be impulsive. After all, she had no way out and no one to rely on. If she provoked Simon, she had no leverage, and it would only cause her mother to suffer alongside her.
She weakly lowered her arm and said to Secretary Linden behind her, "You deliver—"
"Come in."
Simon’s voice rang out unexpectedly from inside the room.
Zoe had intended to shove the documents at Secretary Linden and run away, but when she turned around, he was already nowhere to be seen. "..."
Fine. Great.
As expected, anyone following Simon was no good either. His instincts were sharper than a dog’s, and he fled faster than a ghost.
Left with no choice, she braced herself and pushed the door open.
Sure enough.
She heard a delicate, sweet female voice. "Good thing the trending searches were suppressed. Simon, I’m shooting a lingerie commercial tomorrow. You should come watch me, otherwise I’ll be too nervous."
Zoe was left speechless. She thought, "I didn’t see you having any sense of shame when you were stealing someone else’s husband."
Bitch.
"Why are you spacing out? Do you want to go watch too?" Catching Simon’s cold, distant voice completely off guard, Zoe snapped back to reality and met his gaze.
Meanwhile, the middle finger Zoe had just raised by her side could only be silently retracted.