Leah deliberately stalled for time, hoping Kian would take the hint and leave.
He didn’t. He just stood right behind her.
It gave her the creeps. She reminded him, "You haven’t handled any business all afternoon. Don’t you need to make some calls or reply to your WhatsApp messages?"
Kian crossed his arms. "Didn’t you hear her this afternoon? The Queen Mother has issued her decree. We have to produce a little heir."
The bottle of toner in Leah’s hand nearly slipped and fell to the floor.
Seeing her pale in shock, Kian arched an eyebrow. "What’s wrong? Isn’t this exactly what you want? Once I give you a child, your position in the Hawthorne family will be secured."
Leah felt profoundly insulted. She opened a drawer and pulled out a sheet mask. Even if it dried completely on her face, she was determined to outlast him until he left.
Just as she was about to tear it open, the mask was snatched from her hands.
Kian tossed it aside, looking at her in amusement. "Why put on a face mask at a crucial time like this?"
Anger flared within Leah. She stood up to snatch it back, but Kian suddenly wrapped his arm around her waist, pressing his chest against her. A shadow fell over her vision, and she instinctively turned her face away.
Rebuffed, Kian narrowed his eyes and stared at her coldly. "What? We’ve been married for two years. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about this."
"I heard everything outside the tearoom today," Leah said flatly. "Since you don’t like me, why would you do this?"
"Like?" Kian sneered. "Did you actually think I married you because I liked you?" He reached up and pinched her chin. "Leah, back in the day, whenever you brought soup or coffee to your brother, why did you always have to walk past my classroom? Did you really think I couldn’t tell what you were up to?"
Leah looked at him, her lips pressed tightly together in silence.
She had liked him back then because he had helped her and her brother. And because she hadn’t known what kind of person he truly was.
They were inches apart, yet both remained completely silent.
After a long time, Kian gently raised his hand. His fingertips hovered over the reddened corners of her eyes, hesitating to touch them. "Leah, don’t talk back to me. I don’t want to hurt you."
His phone suddenly rang on the nightstand. He walked over, picked it up, and glanced at the screen.
"Hello? Selene, what’s up?" His tone was patient and gentle, entirely devoid of his previous cold-bloodedness.
Phone to his ear, he talked as he walked out of the room. When he brushed past Leah, it was as if she didn’t even exist.
The door clicked shut.
Leah lunged forward and locked it from the inside. Like a sleepwalker, she stumbled back and sat on the edge of the bed. The dark room felt like a cage. She wanted to escape, but she couldn’t.
***
Selene Shaw spent an hour on the phone with Kian Hawthorne. By the time she returned to the bar, the ice in her cocktail had completely melted.
She looked at the handsome man behind the bar and smiled faintly. He wore a simple white button-down, but just standing there, he looked like he had stepped right out of a fashion magazine. A man like him possessed a lethal charm, even without wealth or a prestigious family background.
"Josh, you moved to Country A in your sophomore year of high school, right? Which city did you live in?"
Josh Sterling kept his head down, mixing a drink. He replied in a mild voice, "I’ve lived in quite a few places."
Selene sighed wistfully. "We’re both just lost souls wandering the world." Suddenly recalling something, she added, "You know what? You’ve changed a lot."
"Have I?"
"There was this one time you were cornered by the school bully. I walked by and helped you out of it. Do you remember what you said to me?"
"No, I don’t."
"You said, ’Don’t flatter yourself.’" Selene laughed.
"Did I really? I was that much of a jerk?"
"Even though we didn’t cross paths much, I always felt that you were destined for something extraordinary."
Josh turned around, fished out a business card, and handed it to her.
[Aethel Fund — Account Manager — Josh Sterling]
Selene felt a ping of disappointment. Her intuition had been wrong. He was just another corporate drone in finance. His salary was probably so low that he had to moonlight as a bartender.
She waved the card in her hand. "I’ll add you on WhatsApp later. See you around, old classmate."
Josh watched her walk out of the bar. Then, he picked up his phone and sent a WhatsApp message to a contact saved as "Zoe":
[What was that woman saying on the phone?]
Zoe replied: [She was talking about a P2P project that Young Master Hawthorne invested in.]
Josh: [It’s suspected of illegal fundraising.]
Zoe: [There’s a firewall, but it’s insufficient.]
Josh stared at the line of text for three seconds before replying: [Do you know what to do?]
Zoe: [I do.]
Josh: [Get it done.]
***
When Kian hung up the phone, he glanced at the time. It was past midnight. He got up, walked back to the bedroom, and pressed down on the door handle.
She had locked it from the inside.
His fingers paused on the handle for a moment before he twisted it again. It didn’t budge.
Women had always thrown themselves at him. Since when had he ever been rejected by one? And she was his wife, no less. Two years of not touching her had made her spoiled and arrogant.
Kian pulled out his phone and called her. No one answered. Her phone was on silent.
He, the third-generation heir to the Hawthorne family and the man at the helm of a multi-billion-dollar business empire, had just been locked out by his wife.
Kian raised his fist to pound on the door, but after a second thought, he lowered it. This was the old estate. He couldn’t disturb his grandmother, he couldn’t alert his father, and he certainly couldn’t let Jean Finch watch him make a fool of himself.
He remembered that the balcony of the adjacent study was connected to the balcony of his bedroom, separated by a gap of less than half a meter. He went back to the study, kicked off his slippers, and climbed onto the railing barefoot.
The moment he stood on it, a flash of regret hit him. The second floor was five meters above the ground. The wind blew through his pajamas, chilling him to the bone. He glanced down, and a wave of vertigo washed over him.
This was his house. The dignified Mr. Hawthorne was scaling a balcony in his own home.
The crossing went smoothly enough. He hopped down from the railing, landed steadily, and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Smoothing out his pajamas as if adjusting a tuxedo, he reached for the handle of the glass balcony door.
The Roman-style brass handle didn’t budge.
That woman had locked the balcony door, too!
***
Half-asleep, Leah jolted up from the bed, startled by the sound of someone pounding on the glass. It took her several seconds of shock before she realized someone was standing on the balcony.
Kian glared at her through the glass door, grinding his teeth. "Leah, do you really want to make such a scene that Grandmother finds out?"
The moonlight illuminated his handsome face, which was drawn tight with fury.
She stared at him for two seconds, slipped out of bed, and walked over barefoot to open the door.
Kian stepped inside and shot her a look. "Don’t forget, you still need to beg me to get the medicine for your uncle," he said coldly.
The moment those words left his mouth, Leah suddenly felt that they had lost even the basic moral decency expected between a husband and wife.
Kian threw back the covers, lay down, and closed his eyes. A long moment passed, but she didn’t get into bed.
A rustling sound reached his ears. He cracked open an eye to peek. The space beside him was empty. No person, no pillow.
Leah had dragged her pillow and blanket to the floor and was curled up in a tight ball.
His heart sank. "Are you trying to draw a line between us?"
Leah kept her back to him and didn’t answer. The room fell silent, save for the steady TICK-TOCK of the clock.
Kian kept his eyes closed, but sleep evaded him. Nearby, her breathing evened out into soft, steady rhythms. She must have fallen asleep.
He sat up and took a look. She was curled tightly in a ball, the blanket wrapped snugly around her, revealing only a small sliver of the back of her neck.
Tonight was the first time she had ever yelled at him. Only now did he realize she actually had a temper. He felt a pang of regret. He had said too much tonight. He didn’t know when the usually obedient and docile Leah had become so uncooperative.
He looked at her again. Asleep, she looked like an innocent young girl entirely untouched by the world.
After a moment of hesitation, he quietly got out of bed, bent down, and scooped her up, blanket and all. She was incredibly light. She barely weighed anything in his arms, feeling as soft as a cloud of cotton.
He laid her on the bed and pulled the covers over her.
Leah rolled over in her sleep, vaguely hearing someone whisper in her ear, "Sleep on the bed." She was too exhausted to pry her eyes open. Having shifted to a better spot, she slept much more comfortably. Lying on her side, her breathing gradually steadied.
Kian stared at her face for a few seconds. Moonlight seeped through the gap in the curtains, casting a thin, silvery veil over her delicate features.
He suddenly felt a faint twinge of guilt. He lay down, closed his eyes, and soon drifted off to sleep.