The words ruthlessly pierced Peyton Joyce’s heart, causing her to nearly lose her carefully maintained composure. She forced a stiff smile, her flustered demeanor giving her away. "Oh, you’re here today. Isn’t Simon usually still at work at this hour?"
Zoe Lancaster looked at her. "How do you know?"
Peyton’s eyes flickered evasively as she offered a quick explanation. "I don’t. I’ve just heard him mention it before, so I have a general idea of his schedule."
Zoe didn’t react defensively. She calmly nodded and responded to the previous question. "Whether he’s back or not, The Imperial Residence is his property. As his wife, it’s my absolute right to come over and stay whenever I please."
Peyton faltered slightly, looking as though she had been struck. Yet, she forced a smile, pretending everything was fine.
Zoe glanced at the woman and asked calmly, "What brings you here, Miss Joyce?"
Peyton held up the delicate food container in her hand. "Ever since Simon was injured, I’ve been bringing him nutritious meals. I made quite a bit today. My maid just went to the car to get the soup; she’ll be right over."
This made Zoe realize that Peyton acted more like the perfect, devoted wife. It seemed she couldn’t wait to personally manage every aspect of Simon’s private life. Furthermore, it appeared she frequently came here to spend time alone with... Simon Hawthorne.
Zoe pursed her lips, her expression placid. She honestly didn’t know what kind of face she was supposed to make when confronting a romantic rival. "Do you want to go upstairs?"
"No need," Peyton said with a smile. "You can take it up for Simon later." She paused, gazing at Zoe with an unreadable expression. "Simon is just like that—he’s fiercely protective. Last time, he couldn’t bear to let you get hurt on his watch. Regardless, he still suffered because of you. I think you could put a little more effort into caring for him."
"Like what?" Zoe’s lips curled into a faint, mocking smile.
Peyton looked at her gently and said with utmost sincerity, "I’m quite familiar with Simon’s habits and preferences. If you want to please him, you are more than welcome to ask me. That way, you’ll know exactly what to do."
"Know exactly what to do? Are you genuinely trying to help me, Miss Joyce, or do you just think Simon only falls for your specific charms, making my efforts a cheap knockoff and a total waste of time?" Zoe asked calmly, studying the other woman under the dim glow of the streetlamp overhead.
Her refusal to beat around the bush and her swiftness in tearing away the facade struck a deep nerve. Peyton’s brows twitched slightly before smoothing out. "I sincerely want to help you. I just want Simon to feel comfortable and happy, so..."
"Isn’t it obvious enough whether he’s comfortable or not?" Zoe tilted her chin up slightly. "Would a man who isn’t comfortable be so utterly insatiable with me in bed? Trust me, no one loves himself more than that man does."
Peyton’s grip on the food container’s handle suddenly tightened. Her eyes locked onto the undeniable bite marks and hickeys scattered across Zoe’s neck. Underneath Zoe’s seemingly casual demeanor lay a razor-sharp edge. She was like a hedgehog—dormant until provoked, but capable of drawing blood with a single strike.
Peyton forced the corners of her mouth up. "I have a recipe book here. Even though Simon is used to my cooking, you could give it a try."
"Thanks, but no thanks. That man has nothing but money. He could hire the world’s top chefs to cook his three meals a day and it wouldn’t be excessive. They can feed him until he’s as strong as an ox. Why would I put myself through all that trouble?" Zoe’s tone was breezy, but she was speaking the truth. She wasn’t stupid enough to take on a thankless task.
Peyton hadn’t expected Zoe’s reaction to be completely outside her calculations. Seeing Zoe turning around to head upstairs, she hurriedly chased after her, reaching out to grab Zoe’s wrist.
Zoe turned back, only to see Peyton lose her footing. The other woman’s ankle gave out, and she stumbled, about to fall. With quick reflexes, Zoe reached out to catch her.
But Peyton looked past her, her expression suddenly morphing into sheer panic. "Look out..."
Zoe instinctively started to turn her head. Suddenly, a hand clamped tightly over her nose and mouth. A bizarre, chemical scent flooded her nasal passages. Her vision instantly went black as her consciousness was violently ripped away, sending her plunging into darkness.
Later that night, the rain started to fall. The first spring shower arrived completely silently.
Simon had returned to the Hawthorne Residence. The family doctor reported that the old man’s vital signs were somewhat unstable today. Filled with unease, Simon decided to come back and check on him in person. When he arrived at his grandfather’s room, the old man was asleep with an IV drip attached. Simon stepped back out, closing the door quietly to speak with the family doctor in the corridor.
"The elder is getting on in years, making any surgical treatment highly risky," the doctor explained. "For now, the targeted medication we imported from Meridia is showing decent results. If his condition remains stable, getting through another year and a half shouldn’t be an issue."
Simon frowned slightly. Even with the world’s most elite team of oncology specialists, they could only buy him a year and a half. "Are there no other options?" he asked.
The doctor shook his head. "This is already the most optimistic prognosis. We need to be incredibly careful moving forward. You’ll have to pay extra close attention to him, Mr. Hawthorne."
Simon massaged his temples with his fingertips and replied faintly, "I understand. Thank you for your hard work."
Just as he finished speaking, a commotion echoed from down the hallway. Simon’s brow furrowed. "My grandfather is resting. What is all this noise about?"
A woman in her forties rushed over in a panic. The moment she laid eyes on Simon, her face drained of color. "Mr. Simon, this is terrible! Miss... Miss Joyce has been kidnapped!"
A cold glint flashed in Simon’s eyes. "Calm down and speak clearly. What do you mean?"
The woman was a maid working for the Hawthorne family. Taking a deep breath, she enunciated every word clearly, "I accompanied Miss Joyce out earlier. I walked off for a moment to grab something from the car. By the time I returned, I saw a man dragging Miss Joyce into a van! I couldn’t catch up to them... I’m afraid something terrible has happened."
Simon’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Did you get a good look at who it was?"
The maid shrank back timidly. "N-No, I didn’t."
DING.
His phone suddenly vibrated. His expression darkening, Simon pulled out his device. It was a text message from an unknown number.
[I have your woman. If you want to save her, don’t even think about calling the cops. Bring twenty million to ransom her! Try anything funny, and I’ll kill your woman immediately!]
Simon’s pupils contracted, the icy aura radiating from him becoming increasingly terrifying. The perpetrator was clearly prepared and had even managed to obtain his private number. The situation was undeniably severe. He turned on his heel, ready to leave.
Suddenly, the bedroom door opened. The old man sat in his wheelchair, his cloudy eyes fixed firmly on Simon as his emotions surged. "Peyton cannot be harmed. You must bring her back safely without a single scratch on her!"
He hadn’t expected his grandfather to overhear. This made things even more complicated. Simon furrowed his brows deeply. "Don’t worry, Grandfather. I won’t let anything happen to her, no matter who else might be in danger."
Hours later, Zoe was awakened by the freezing cold. The spring rain, mixed with what felt like shards of ice, lashed mercilessly against her face, leaving her shivering uncontrollably.
When she forced her eyes open, she found herself inside an abandoned, unfinished building. Both her hands and feet were bound tightly to a wooden chair. Directly behind her was the precipice of the third floor, devoid of any guardrails. If her chair shifted backwards even half an inch, she would plummet to the ground below. A piece of rough burlap had been shoved into her mouth as a gag, making it impossible for her to speak.
She struggled quietly until she heard a concerned, panic-stricken voice right beside her. "Zoe? Are you okay?"