Peyton Joyce happened to hear this exact sentence as she walked up to the door.
She abruptly clenched her sleeves, a trace of joy surfacing in her eyes. She had waited for Simon Hawthorne for so many years. Originally... the position of Mrs. Hawthorne was supposed to be hers.
As far as she was concerned, Zoe Lancaster had simply lucked out.
*
Simon looked up, his expression remaining perfectly calm. He wasn’t surprised by the old man’s attitude. From the moment these events started unfolding, he had anticipated all the ensuing complications.
He poured a glass of water for his grandfather and replied with measured composure, "Zoe has never done anything wrong. I didn’t come back for the past two years, so I already owe her. After everything that has happened, would I even be human if I divorced her now?"
The old man’s temper flared. He swatted the glass away, sending it crashing heavily against the floor. "It’s hard being the good guy! She’s not like Peyton. She’s after your money and might not even be sincere with you. Peyton truly loves you! Can’t you get your priorities straight?"
Looking at the shattered glass on the floor, Simon’s long eyes behind his lenses finally revealed a flicker of a different emotion—something cold and hostile. "How do you know she isn’t sincere with me?"
The old man stared at him, dumbfounded.
It took him a long time to find his voice. "You... you never planned on getting a divorce, did you?"
Simon crossed his legs. As he looked at his grandfather, his aura exerted a subtle, oppressive pressure. "Back then, you wanted me to get married, so I did. Now you want me to get a divorce. Grandpa, am I just a tool for the Hawthorne family to manipulate as they please?"
The old man’s chest heaved heavily at those words.
Yet, he found himself completely unable to refute them.
Outside the door, Peyton felt as if her blood had run cold, making her shiver.
Did Simon mean...
Before she could dwell on it, she heard the old man inside ask, "What exactly are your thoughts on Miss Lancaster? Do you like her?"
Peyton uncontrollably took a step closer to the door, her heart pounding so hard it rattled her ribs.
Then, she heard the man’s cool, aloof answer from inside: "She is my lawfully wedded wife."
He didn’t give a direct answer, but his stance was made abundantly clear.
Peyton’s expression grew dazed. She unconsciously clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, drawing blood without her even realizing it, until a complex and dark glint dyed her eyes.
Inside, Simon spoke again. "I already said the kidnapping incident isn’t that simple and needs to be thoroughly investigated. I’ve already started looking into it. You don’t need to worry about it, Grandpa."
Hearing this, Peyton’s eyes flickered.
It was like a basin of cold water had been dumped over her, jolting her awake. Taking a deep breath, she walked away without making a sound.
Inside the room, the old man’s face grew increasingly ugly. He hadn’t expected Simon to disobey him. Perhaps due to his chronic, severe illness, his patience had worn thin while his temper had only worsened. He actually snatched up the watch resting by his hand and hurled it viciously at Simon.
"What do you mean I don’t need to worry about it!"
Simon didn’t dodge. The old man’s movements were sluggish; Simon could have easily avoided it. But he remained as unmoving as a mountain, allowing the heavy metal watch to strike his brow bone.
A sharp pain hit him—a burning, throbbing ache.
The lens of his glasses shattered.
He calmly raised a hand to take off his glasses, folded the broken frames, and tucked them into his pocket. The sharp edge of the watch had carved a shallow, bloody gash into his brow bone, but he paid it no mind. "Have you calmed down, Grandpa?"
The old man panted heavily, shock slowly creeping into his eyes.
He actually regretted his actions. "Why didn’t you dodge!"
Simon was clearly agile; there was no way an old man like him could have managed to hit him.
Simon lowered his eyes. "Because I cannot agree to your demand, Grandpa."
Because of that single sentence, the guilt that had just swelled up in the old man completely vanished. With a darkened face, he said grimly, "Let me tell you this. If you don’t divorce her, you’re trying to kill me!"
Simon finally showed a trace of emotion.
His lips pressed into a tight line.
*
By the time he left the courtyard, a light drizzle was falling from the sky.
Even after the beginning of spring, the chill in Kingsford still seeped into the bones.
The falling rain felt like fine, dense needles piercing the skin.
As the raindrops landed on his brow bone, blood seeped from the wound. The red and swollen welt on his pale skin was clearly visible. It added a touch of cold, devilish charm to his flawlessly handsome face, stripping away the unapproachable, otherworldly aura that made him seem beyond mortal reach.
Linden hurriedly ran over, holding up an umbrella. "Mr. Hawthorne! How did you get hurt?"
"Let’s go to the hospital to get that treated!" Linden was actually quite anxious about seeing his boss’s ridiculously exquisite face injured. It was like seeing a priceless, beautiful artifact get cracked—it was just too heart-wrenching.
"It’s nothing," Simon replied indifferently, paying the wound no mind. His brows were furrowed tightly, harboring a gloom that seemed impossible to dispel, causing his whole body to exude an aura that warned strangers to stay away.
Linden hesitated, not knowing how to comfort him.
Having stayed by Simon’s side for so many years, he wouldn’t claim to completely understand his boss’s thoughts, but he could almost always sense when something was wrong.
Just like now. A suffocating exhaustion lingered around Simon. It was as if thousands of tons of pressure had dropped onto his shoulders, making him exceptionally despondent.
Simon wasn’t in a hurry to get into the car.
He just leaned against the hood, lowering his eyes as he smoked one cigarette after another.
Numerous cigarette butts littered the ground at his feet.
Before him was a fine curtain of rain, its coldness piercing straight through to the heart.
Seeing that the situation wasn’t right, Linden finally remembered something important. He hesitated for a moment before saying, "Mr. Hawthorne... we have some news on Mrs. Hawthorne’s side."
Only then did Simon react.
He lazily lifted his gaze and stubbed out his cigarette. "Details?"
Linden hesitated for a moment, then pulled out his phone and opened his photo gallery. "Take a look."
Simon looked at the screen.
In the picture, a woman was leaning to the side, and a man next to her was timely reaching out to support her. Their casual eye contact created an atmosphere that, from an outsider’s perspective, looked somewhat intimate.
Linden watched helplessly as Simon’s expression darkened into gloom. He groaned inwardly—what a mess this was!
It took a long time before Simon moved. Heading toward the backseat, he ordered, "Go to this neighborhood."
Linden broke out in a cold sweat.
He felt like an absolute sinner.
Mr. Hawthorne’s aura was so terrifyingly low right now.
He wouldn’t actually divorce her in a fit of anger, would he?
More likely, if the two rivals met, would Mr. Hawthorne get into a physical fight with President Yates?
That would be a massive scandal sure to hit the trending searches!
He spent the entire drive filled with trepidation, right up until they entered the neighborhood.
*
Zoe Lancaster woke up from a nap.
She had been running a fever on and off for two days, and only today did she recover a bit of energy.
The wound on her arm had healed quickly. It had already started to scab over and didn’t hurt much anymore.
When she opened her eyes, a light drizzle was falling outside.
The sky had mostly darkened.
She found her phone and turned it on.
A few missed calls and WhatsApp messages popped up.
She went through her WhatsApp messages one by one. She had intentionally kept things a secret from her aunt, so the mother and daughter were still in the dark.
There was also a message from Crystal Hayes, saying she had already returned to Kingsford after finishing her competition.
And then, there was a single WhatsApp message from Simon.
Mr.H: [Answer the phone.]
The short, three-word message had been sent yesterday.
It exuded a bone-deep indifference.
Zoe couldn’t help but frown, feeling highly repulsed by his commanding tone.
She simply tossed the phone aside and ignored the message.
Getting out of bed, she decided to go downstairs to get something to eat.
Just as she reached the door, the doorbell rang.
Miles Yates had visited once yesterday. Even though the apartment belonged to his younger brother and he knew the passcode, he would still ring the doorbell when he came over—a testament to his deeply ingrained good breeding.
Assuming it was Miles, she let down her guard and opened the door directly.
However, she was instantly enveloped by a large shadow as a pair of hands grabbed her slender waist and pulled her into a cold, hard embrace.