Simon’s demeanor was entirely tranquil, as though discussing something as mundane as eating or drinking. He lowered his gaze, stirred the medicinal soup with a spoon, and blew away some of the steam before handing the bowl to Zoe. "Drink it. The traditional medicine doctor who treats Grandmother’s health is one of the best in the country. This medicine won’t just help you conceive; it will also nourish your body."
Zoe’s expression darkened, and she made no move to take the bowl. "What exactly are you trying to do? You haven’t forgotten that we don’t have much time left together, have you?"
With only about half a year left on their agreement, they would soon part ways for good. Why would two people about to cut ties ever have a child together? That certainly hadn’t been part of their original deal.
Hearing her words, a flicker of emotion crossed Simon’s eyes, though his gaze remained as cold as frost. "We agreed at the beginning to adapt to circumstances. Since you insist on bringing up the contract, as Party B, shouldn’t you be adhering to my wishes?"
Zoe was momentarily stunned into silence, entirely unable to refute him. His logic was sound, yet it left a stifling lump of frustration in her chest. Capitalists truly were ruthless!
"It’s not hot anymore. Drink it now." Simon’s tone was unhurried, yet intangibly overbearing. He looked at her calmly, offering no room for negotiation.
She clenched her fists. After everything that had recently happened, she couldn’t pretend anymore. "Simon, have you lost your mind?"
He paid no mind to her insolence, his gaze remaining steady. "Evie, don’t force me to feed you."
Zoe’s eyes grew red with anger. She knew Simon was genuinely capable of doing just that. The old madam must be keeping a very close eye on them; otherwise, he wouldn’t be making things so difficult for her. Taking a deep breath and wanting to end this entanglement, she snatched the bowl of medicine, tilted her head back, and downed it in one gulp.
The bitter taste made her stomach churn violently. She didn’t know why, but the medicine really was getting harder to drink. She couldn’t imagine how many awful herbs had been added to make it so unpalatable. Forcing down her discomfort, she rolled over and lay down with her back to him, clearly refusing to communicate any further.
Simon sat on the edge of the bed, watching her back for a long time. Zoe had indeed changed. Lately, her patience with him seemed entirely exhausted. There was a precarious sense of detachment about her, an ethereal feeling that she could leave him at any moment. This elusive sensation made him deeply uncomfortable. A slight frown formed between his brows. After a long silence, he stood up and left the room.
Outside, the rain grew heavier.
Standing before the floor-to-ceiling windows, Simon watched the layers of rain meander down the glass. The reflection showed his tall, noble figure, exuding a heavy gloom. His cigar burned to the end. He stared at the faintly glowing embers, lost in his own thoughts.
He remained there until a servant opened the door, and Linden hurried inside. Approaching his side, Linden reported, "That guy, Leo Linden, is keeping his mouth tightly shut. He probably knows the rest of his life is completely ruined, so he’s just resigned himself to his fate. He insists it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Scum like him are absolutely detestable!"
Simon showed no major emotional fluctuations. He stubbed out the cigar. "The police are about to close the case, but the minor details cannot be ignored. From the day Leo Linden arrived in Kingsford, scrutinize all of his movements. If I’m not mistaken, someone put him up to it."
There were very few people who clearly knew about his relationship with Zoe. The greatest possibility was someone within the Hawthorne Family. Since the scope of suspects was too broad, he needed a definitive answer.
Linden nodded. "Rest assured, Mr. Hawthorne. We already have some leads. We’ll have a result by tonight at the latest."
With that said, he subconsciously glanced upstairs. He knew that the madam had been forcibly brought back by Mr. Hawthorne. It was just...
"Mr. Hawthorne, the old man’s stance is so unyielding. Are you... really going to persist?"
Linden had once thought that Mr. Hawthorne didn’t care much about his wife. But now, he was willing to bear immense pressure and defy his gravely ill grandfather for her sake. Just how deep did his feelings run? Or was there some other reason?
Simon took the shattered pair of glasses from his pocket. He looked at the cracked lenses with a detached expression. It seemed they could never be repaired to their original state.
"As long as she gets pregnant," he said, his voice entirely calm. "As long as we have a child, it will silence the wagging tongues."
Even in an ordinary household, no matter how severe the problems, a pregnancy would force the family to reconsider everything. It was even more true for a prominent family like theirs, which valued heirs above all else. He had thought it through. This was the fastest and most effective way to pacify the situation. The only difficulty was that Zoe didn’t seem all that willing. But it didn’t matter. He had plenty of time to wear her down.
"Mr. Hawthorne, I can actually understand the madam’s perspective," Linden couldn’t help but say. "Miss Joyce’s return to the country might always be a thorn in her side. It’s almost impossible for you to strike a balance between them. If you ask me...
"No matter what happened in the past, you are a married man. Miss Joyce clearly lacks the self-awareness to respect that, which has led to... endless conflicts."
In Linden’s eyes, Peyton Joyce was being entirely too brazen. Even though Mr. Hawthorne’s wife was right there, Peyton, emboldened by the old man’s backing, hovered around Mr. Hawthorne all day, constantly expressing concern and offering solicitous care. No one could tolerate such behavior. After all, a first love held a uniquely significant place in a man’s heart. It was easy to imagine how agonizing this must be for the madam.
Simon’s thumb paused over the lenses. His face was reflected in the shattered glass, his expression deeply unfathomable.
The rain poured throughout the entire night, leaving the morning air damp and the ground muddy. Simon returned to the Hawthorne Residence.
His grandfather’s condition had stabilized. Opening his eyes to see Simon sitting by his bed, the old man coldly snorted. "So, you still have some regard for your grandfather?"
Simon rubbed his pinky ring, speaking in a slow, measured tone. "You will always be the grandfather I respect."
His grandfather coughed twice before a nearby caregiver helped him sit up. "Since you say that," he said coldly, "have you finally thought things through?
"When do you plan to go to the Civil Affairs Bureau?"
The old man had clearly made up his mind to force their divorce.
Unruffled, Simon spoke coldly. "Come in."
The door was pushed open. Shane Shaw walked in, dragging a middle-aged man with him.
Seeing the man clearly, his grandfather frowned. He recognized him, of course. The man had worked for the Hawthorne Family for nearly twenty years. He was the old butler’s cousin, normally working as a gatekeeper and a driver for errands, and had always been diligent and conscientious.
Right now, however, the middle-aged man’s face was filled with remorse and terror. He looked at the old man and begged, "Old Mr. Hawthorne, I was wrong! I was truly wrong! Please, ask the young master to spare my life, will you? My grandson is about to be born, I didn’t want to..."
His grandfather looked at Simon. "What is the meaning of this?"
Simon lifted his eyelids, his gaze so devoid of light and so utterly chilling that even an old man who had dominated the business world for sixty years felt an inexplicable stab of fear.
"Didn’t you say, Grandfather, that Peyton being implicated was due to Zoe’s family affairs, making Zoe the chief culprit?"
"Is there something wrong with that?" his grandfather retorted, his gaze sharp.
Simon turned his head. "Shane."
Shane immediately delivered a vicious kick to the back of the man’s knees. The middle-aged man fell to the floor in agony, sobbing uncontrollably. "It was me... I accidentally saw Leo Linden cornering the young madam, so I approached him. I... I suggested he kidnap the young madam and take a gamble, and that’s how..."
His grandfather’s expression instantly changed, turning exceedingly grim.
"As things stand, Grandfather, it wasn’t Zoe who implicated Peyton," Simon stated, staring darkly at his grandfather and pausing between every word. "It was this ungrateful, treacherous dog raised by the Hawthorne Family who harmed both Zoe and Peyton. It is the Hawthorne Family—
"That has wronged my wife."
The withered flesh on the old man’s cheeks trembled. Having been resolute and decisive his entire life, he was now completely choked for words, utterly unable to mount a defense.
Simon paid no attention to his grandfather’s reaction. His cold eyes swept downward, his oppressive aura bearing down on the servant as he demanded, "Tell me, how did you come up with such an idea? What prompted it?"