In the corridor.
Simon Hawthorne sat on the bench with his head bowed. The wound on his back had already been treated. His shirt was torn with a long gash, faintly revealing the white gauze underneath. He seemed to feel no pain, only lowering his eyes to look at the lighter in his palm. His long fingers rolled it around, flicking it open and snapping it shut. It was as if he was looking at someone through this lighter.
Peyton Joyce sat beside him, looking at the man before her with a complex gaze. "Grandpa has lived a long and blessed life; he’ll be fine," she said softly. "He was just agitated for a moment. Zoe is just too stubborn. Those who are too unbending break easily. She really should have been a little more considerate of Grandpa’s health, otherwise things wouldn’t have turned out like this."
The old man’s cancer cells had metastasized to his legs, and his life was entirely sustained by money. He couldn’t afford extreme emotional fluctuations. Yet today, of all days...
Simon remained silent, his fingers tightening slightly around the lighter.
Peyton checked the time. "Grandma and the others are already on their way. The heavy rain will delay them a bit."
"Mhm." Simon closed his eyes, his voice slightly hoarse.
Peyton looked at him deeply. Feigning helplessness, she said, "Simon, too many things have happened recently. The matter between you and Zoe... it has to be resolved eventually. Otherwise, Grandpa’s condition might not look optimistic. You know your marriage has always been his greatest worry."
Simon frowned. "I’ll handle it."
"Then why won’t you let Zoe go?" Peyton tightened her fingers and probed further. "Given her determination to leave, she clearly doesn’t love you at all. Otherwise, why would she hurt you like this? Besides, there’s that whole situation with President Yates. Could she actually have feelings for him?"
Every word was like a dense barrage of silver needles, piercing his cold, hardened heart over and over again until it was mangled and unrecognizable. Did Zoe Lancaster really have feelings for Miles Yates?
Simon put the lighter away, gripping it tightly in his palm, his eyes filled with a chilling darkness.
At 3:00 AM.
The old man’s vital signs gradually stabilized. Florence Finch hurried back from the temple. Upon learning the cause and effect of the incident, her blood pressure spiked, and she nearly fainted. She gripped Simon’s arm tightly. "We don’t have to interfere with the problems between you two. It’s best if it’s just a misunderstanding. Don’t let your emotions dictate your actions; resolve this properly."
Florence did not pressure him. She had always believed that elders couldn’t meddle in the romances of the youth. How could any outsider truly comprehend the love, hate, passion, and obsession between them?
"I understand." Simon soothed the old lady so she could rest.
The old lady had been resolute and decisive her entire life. After stepping down, she lived a carefree, leisurely life and rarely interfered in the affairs of the younger generation. Her only moment of thunderous fury had occurred decades ago, and she had brooded over the death of her niece for many years.
After the hospital matters were settled, the sky turned a pale grayish-white, and the light of dawn pierced through the clouds. It seemed like it would be a sunny day.
At 6:00 AM.
Simon hadn’t slept all night. Between his injuries and sheer exhaustion, he looked incredibly worn out, a trace of haggardness marring his pale, handsome face.
As he stepped out of the ward, Linden immediately approached him. "Mr. Hawthorne, you should rest for a while. There are plenty of people standing guard here. Don’t collapse from exhaustion."
Simon walked to the window at the end of the corridor, opened it, and lit a cigarette. "Where is she?"
Linden, always sharp and perceptive, replied at once, "She’s at the Hawthorne Residence. She hasn’t come out since."
CLICK. The lighter made a crisp sound.
Simon’s deep eyes lifted. "Hasn’t come out? Did she go back to the annex to rest?"
Linden hesitated for a moment. "No. When I went over today to fetch your clothes, the servants said the madam didn’t go to the annex. However, the men guarding the Hawthorne Residence confirmed that she definitely hasn’t left the premises."
A frown slowly formed between Simon’s brows. Where else could she have gone? After all that had happened, anyone with half a conscience wouldn’t keep trying to run away. He turned around, looked toward the ward, and suddenly asked, "Where’s my mother?"
"Mrs. Hawthorne came by once last night," Linden replied, "and then returned to the Hawthorne Residence."
Simon stubbed out his cigarette. With a cold expression, he turned and strode toward the elevators.
The Hawthorne Residence was in utter chaos. Now that the second and third branches of the family had successively come to the hospital to visit the old man, there was hardly anyone left at the residence. Where could Zoe have gone? A sudden wave of intense irritation washed over him. His expression grew even more austere as he crushed the cigarette butt to pieces in his hand.
After a night of rain, the roads were wet. The car drove into the courtyard of the Hawthorne Residence, bypassed the golf course, and pulled up to the entrance of the main hall.
Simon got out and strode into the main hall on his long legs. The Hawthorne Residence had strict breakfast rules: everyone had to be seated for their meal before 6:30 AM. Because of the old man’s condition, the second and third branches of the family had stayed up all night, leaving only two people in the dining room: Ken Lowell and Peyton Joyce.
Seeing Simon return, Peyton subconsciously glanced at Ken before standing up. "Simon, the food has just been served. Let’s eat together."
Simon glanced at her, his tone very flat. "I’m not hungry." He then looked at Ken. "Where is Zoe?" He never beat around the bush with his intentions.
Ken gracefully stirred her spoon in her soup and said breezily, "She’s repenting."
The displeasure in Simon’s heart became increasingly clear. He frowned. "Where is she?"
"When you do something wrong, naturally you must be punished! She has failed in her wifely duties. As her mother-in-law, can’t I properly discipline her?" Ken sneered. "I merely locked her in confinement and ordered her to copy out the Admonitions for Women until the old man is transferred out of the ICU. Is there a problem?"
As soon as the words left her mouth, Simon’s expression changed drastically, instantly turning bone-chillingly cold. Without a second of hesitation, he spun around and rushed straight to the courtyard where confinements were held.
Ken immediately grew furious. "She’s only been locked up for ten-odd hours! It’s not like I’m asking for her life! Is she really that delicate?!"
Peyton pursed her lips, looking in the direction Simon had left, a dark glint flashing in her eyes. "Mrs. Hawthorne, let’s go take a look. We don’t want anything to go wrong."
Though deeply displeased, Ken stood up. "I want to see this for myself. It’s just a little solitary confinement. Will she lose a piece of flesh from missing two meals?"
He rushed straight from the front hall to a rather remote courtyard. It was situated right next to the ancestral hall, flanking it on the left and right. Usually, few people came here. Unless it was a major holiday, a routine ancestral worship ceremony, or the daily sweeping, no one was allowed to act recklessly in this area.
The confinement area was in the basement. When he was young and did anything that displeased Ken, he would be locked in here. He knew all too well the torment of the pitch-black darkness. Zoe was terrified of the dark. Being trapped in there alone for the entire night must have frightened her terribly.
Approaching the door, Simon took a deep breath and unlocked the padlock. As he pushed the door open, there was barely any light inside. He didn’t hear a single sound.
Before opening the door, a multitude of thoughts had raced through his mind. Being locked up here, Zoe might be angry or traumatized, or perhaps she would fight with him even more fiercely. It wasn’t until the door was fully open and the outside light eagerly streamed in that his thoughts came to a halt. He finally saw the figure lying on the ground, just two steps away from the doorway. The woman’s face was deathly pale, and she had fallen into a deep coma. Her dark cyan qipao had ridden up, revealing her fair legs, and beneath those legs... was a shocking pool of blood!
Simon’s pupils shrank violently. His heart skipped a beat, and he felt as if he had been plunged into an ice cellar.
When Peyton and Ken hurried over, they arrived just in time to see Simon carrying the woman out. The man, whose face was usually breezy and devoid of discernible emotion, was now radiating a bone-piercing chill. His beautiful, long eyes were bloodshot. He cradled the woman tightly in his arms, looking as though he were teetering on the edge of madness, his impending outburst utterly terrifying.