Zoe Lancaster frowned. She didn’t want to get involved in this mess and opened her mouth to refuse. "This isn’t my job—"
The young girl didn’t give her a chance to say no, turning and sprinting off.
Zoe felt a surge of annoyance. She looked down at the jewelry box in her hands. Inside lay a diamond set featuring a pendant the size of a pigeon’s egg. It was incredibly valuable. Stella Joyce was supposed to wear it for her appearance today, so naturally, it was precious and couldn’t be mishandled.
"Is she out of her mind?" Zoe wondered. She couldn’t help but suspect why Stella had fixated on her. Did the actress really not know that she was Simon Hawthorne’s secretly married wife?
Speculation was useless. There could be no mistakes with this jewelry set. Since it had ended up in her hands, she had no choice but to deliver it.
Arriving on the second floor, she found Room 2017. The door happened to be slightly ajar, leaving a narrow crack. Zoe raised her hand to knock, but through the gap, she caught a clear view of the scene inside.
It felt as though a bucket of ice water had been poured over her from head to toe.
A man was buttoning the collar of his shirt. In front of him, Stella had her arms hooked around his neck, standing on her tiptoes to offer a kiss. The lighting was dim, and Zoe could only see the side of Stella’s head, which blocked part of her view. However, from their posture and the setting, it was unmistakably an intimate moment.
Zoe’s grip abruptly tightened around the exquisite jewelry box. She turned and leaned against the wall, her chest heaving with heavy breaths as a loud ringing echoed in her ears.
Not too long ago, Simon had done the exact same thing to her. How could he just turn around and do it with Stella? What did he take her for?
A bitter, coppery taste rose in Zoe’s throat. She turned back, knocked firmly on the door, and placed the jewelry box on the velvet sofa just outside before walking away without looking back.
Inside the lounge.
Simon tilted his head, glancing toward the door. His dark eyes revealed no emotion as he firmly but gently pulled away the hands Stella had hooked around his neck. "I can fix my own collar."
Stella’s eyes curved into a beaming smile. "I was just worried you wouldn’t be able to reach it."
Simon shrugged on his suit jacket and cast a cool glance at her. "There are too many prying eyes around. Why did you come up here?"
His shirt had gotten Zoe’s lipstick on it, so he had come upstairs to change into a fresh one. He hadn’t expected Stella to follow him.
Stella blinked, asking in a very relaxed tone, "Simon, do you really hate the media taking pictures of us?"
Adjusting his tie, Simon tilted his chin up slightly. Behind his glasses, his dark eyes were bottomless and unreadable. "That time at the BGL Hotel—did you truly not know there were paparazzi staking you out for days?"
A flicker of something unusual flashed in Stella’s eyes, but she quickly masked it with a radiant smile. "Of course. If I had known, why would I have given them the chance to photograph me for that kind of scandal? Simon, are you misunderstanding me?"
The Hawthorne Group’s public relations department had already stepped in and resolved the incident. From what she knew, it was that Miss Lancaster who handled it.
The gaze Simon fixed on her face was perfectly calm. He didn’t say a single word. It was so quiet that Stella felt her heart plummet into a bottomless pit, gripped by an inexplicable panic.
Finally, Simon dropped a casual but chilling sentence. "It’s best if you didn’t."
It sounded like a warning.
Stella pursed her lips and followed behind him. As they stepped out the door, she saw the jewelry box resting on the sofa in the hallway. For a fleeting moment, a hint of amusement gleamed in her eyes before vanishing completely.
Simon merely glanced at it before striding away.
The main venue was filled with invited VIPs. However, they were all there as a favor to Mr. Hawthorne and to network. As soon as they saw Simon coming downstairs, people immediately swarmed around him.
Simon maintained his usual aloof demeanor, conversing with natural composure.
That was, until Summer Thorne, who was walking by, grabbed Stella’s assistant. "Where did Supervisor Lancaster go? I just saw you looking for her."
The assistant batted Summer’s hand away in annoyance. "She went to deliver jewelry to Stella. Just call her! Why are you asking me?"
The two of them shoved past each other and walked off. Amidst the shifting crowds, fragments of their voices drifted into his ears.
Simon held his wine glass, narrowing his deep, dark eyes. He wondered if she had been the one to come upstairs just now.
Later, in the restroom.
Zoe splashed ice-cold water onto her burning cheeks. It felt as though her temperature was rising even higher. She had taken fever medication earlier today, but it clearly wasn’t working well.
"What’s wrong? You look awful." Stella walked over and pulled out a cushion compact to touch up her makeup, asking with feigned concern. "Are you sick? Or just exhausted from being in a bad mood?"
Seeing her, Zoe’s mind flooded with the image she had just witnessed. Her pale face remained expressionless. "I’m fine."
Stella chuckled at her response. "I must look a mess. The lip makeup my artist spent so much time on got completely ruined, so I had to sneak over here and touch it up myself. Simon is really something else..."
The trailing sentence was a deliberate invitation for wild imaginations.
Zoe silently clenched her fists. Stella, seeming oblivious to Zoe’s emotional shift, finished her makeup and prepared to leave.
Zoe finally couldn’t hold back. "As far as I know, Mr. Hawthorne is married."
Stella paused and turned around with a nonchalant look on her face. "I know."
Zoe hadn’t expected the other woman to be so utterly shameless.
The corners of Stella’s lips curled up, as if she didn’t mind sharing this secret with Zoe at all. "Simon doesn’t love that little pawn sitting at home. She was only brought in to ward off misfortune. To him, her very existence is an insult. It was a marriage forced upon him by his father’s mistress. Let alone love, he probably resents her more than anything. Who knows how miserable that woman’s fate will end up being."
With that, she turned and left.
She left Zoe alone, leaning against the sink with an exhausted and freezing body. Yet, she had to admit that Stella’s words made perfect sense.
How could a proud, privileged man like Simon Hawthorne just forgive and forget the people and schemes that had manipulated him? Did he... truly hate her? If that were the case, then the man from that night really was him, and he indeed had every reason to refuse to admit it.
Zoe didn’t dare to delve any deeper into those thoughts.
The annual gala was drawing to a close, leading up to the final group photo session.
Zoe stood off to the side, watching as Stella was surrounded by the crowd like the moon among the stars, standing right next to Simon. The two of them looked like a match made in heaven. She turned and walked outside, standing on the steps to let the biting wind force her mind awake.
Summer followed her out, unable to contain her awe. "Mr. Hawthorne is insanely handsome. He’s got to be the absolute pinnacle of attractiveness in the financial world, right? He completely blows those male celebrities out of the water!"
Zoe cast a glance at the starry-eyed girl, not denying it. Hadn’t she been exactly the same way, utterly spellbound even up to this day?
"But, why do I feel like..." Summer rubbed her chin, inspecting Zoe. "Zoe, your outfit today looks just like matching couple’s wear with Mr. Hawthorne. One in black, one in white, and the styles are inexplicably complementary. You’re the only one in the entire venue wearing something like this!"
Zoe couldn’t help but crack a joke. "Really? Mr. Hawthorne is such a tease, actually taking the effort to match his outfit with mine. I—"
"Is that so?" A cold, indifferent voice suddenly asked from behind.
Zoe froze. How was her luck this bad?! It was like walking in the dark and bumping straight into a ghost!
Summer’s hair stood on end. She hurriedly blurted out, "Good evening, Mr. Hawthorne! Goodbye, Mr. Hawthorne! Zoe, I’m off the clock!"
The young girl sprinted away as fast as her legs could carry her, leaving Zoe alone to face the impending, awkward storm.
When would she ever fix this terrible habit of running her mouth?!
Zoe slowly turned around. Looking up, she met the man’s dark eyes, which were failing to conceal his churning emotions. She shrank back slightly. "Then... I’m off the clock too."
She wanted to run away as well.
A strong hand clamped down on her wrist. Simon dragged her in the opposite direction.
Zoe immediately imagined how furious he was going to be, and her mouth started firing off like a machine gun. "I’m sorry, I apologize, okay? You wouldn’t be so petty as to hold this against me, right? Let go! Simon Hawthorne, are you out of your—"
She was shoved into a car, and the door slammed shut.
Trapping her in the corner of the backseat, Simon spoke in a cold, stern voice. "Keep talking."