Peyton Joyce was not at the Hawthorne Residence.
Since being discharged from the hospital after her overdose, she seemed to have forced herself to find meaning and purpose in life, picking up the violin she had laid down for years due to her lingering illnesses. Already somewhat famous in her own right, her comeback naturally generated quite a bit of buzz.
Today, she was attending a violin open competition as a mystery guest. For the sake of convenience, she had temporarily checked into a hotel.
By the time Simon Hawthorne arrived at the address, it was nearly noon. After speaking with the front desk to get a room key, he headed upstairs. Upon entering the room, he saw Peyton collapsed on the bathroom floor.
It seemed she had slipped on the wet tiles. She was wearing a white, pajama-style shirt dress that barely covered her thighs. Because the showerhead had been left running, water cascaded over her, soaking the shirt until the fabric was practically transparent. The white lace underwear beneath was exceptionally clear to the eye, revealing her fair and exquisite curves at a glance.
Sprawled on the floor, she propped herself up with one hand. Her small face was pale, and she bit her lip, eyes blurry with tears. Upon seeing him arrive, her body trembled slightly, making the soft flesh beneath the wet shirt quiver. "Simon..."
Faced with such a scene, any man would have found it difficult to restrain himself. But when Simon saw it, his expression didn’t change in the slightest. He merely frowned, unbuttoned his coat, and draped it over her shoulders to cover her exposed figure. "Let’s get you out first."
With no discernible emotion in his deep eyes, he effortlessly scooped her up and carried her out of the bathroom.
After settling her onto the bed, his gaze fell on her ankle. It was faintly swollen and red, though it didn’t look too serious.
Peyton looked up, her fingers gently pinching his cuff. "I’m in such a sorry state. I didn’t want anyone else to see me like this, so I had to bother you, Simon."
Still affected by the situation with Zoe Lancaster, Simon was already in a foul mood. He seemed steeped in an icy spring, exuding a cold, astringent aura that made him difficult to approach.
"It’s fine. It doesn’t look like you’ve injured the bone. Apply some ice, and it should get better soon," he said, raising his hand to check his exquisite matte-black wristwatch. "Your assistant will be here shortly to take care of it for you. You need to be more careful in the future, especially since your health is already frail."
Seeing the man’s concern for her, Peyton pursed her lips into a soft smile, her heart flooding with honeyed sweetness. She subtly gave the coat a gentle tug, letting the garment slip down her shoulder to once again reveal her alluring figure.
She looked at him with affectionate, shy eyes. "I... I’m just uncomfortable in wet clothes."
Her gaze was pure, yet it carried an undeniable hint of invitation.
Simon lowered his eyes to look at her. After a brief pause, his brows relaxed. "I’ll have your assistant come over and help you change."
Seeing him turn to leave, a flash of hurt crossed Peyton’s eyes. She quickly grabbed his arm, her voice choked with tears and cautious hesitation. "Simon... do you despise me because of what happened back then? Because I... because I was pregnant with someone else’s child?"
Why else would he constantly refuse to touch her? Was it really out of a desire to protect and cherish her?
Simon paused his steps, his dark eyes deep and obscure. His tone was eerily calm, as if he had boundless patience. "Don’t speak nonsense."
Ignoring the pain in her ankle, Peyton shifted to the edge of the bed and hugged his lean, muscular waist. Pressing her cheek against his back, she nuzzled him with obsessive infatuation. "I only have you. If you really minded what happened back then, I would have been better off dying on the spot. Simon, you know my heart has always belonged solely to you. I can do anything for you.
"If you like children, I can even bear one for you."
Taking in his body heat and that heart-stirring faint fragrance, she continued, "Zoe doesn’t know how to cherish you, but I’m different. I would never betray you."
At the mention of Zoe, it was as if a pebble had been tossed into the stagnant pool of his emotions, sending a continuous flurry of ripples across the surface. He looked down at the hands wrapped around his waist without a single ripple of reaction.
Faced with such an attentive, tender beauty like Peyton, any other man would have melted with pity today. But unfortunately, he was Simon Hawthorne. He couldn’t be categorized with ordinary men; he was as indifferent and devoid of desires as a monk, his deepest thoughts completely impenetrable.
"Your sprain needs to be treated. Be good." Even as he said the words, his voice was as cold as frost, carrying an invisible, untouchable distance.
Peyton looked dazed for a moment before tears suddenly streamed down her face. "Simon, ten years ago in Portellis, when our two cars got into that accident and yours was on the verge of exploding... I risked my life to drag you out. At that moment, I thought...
"If I couldn’t save you, I would die right there with you!
"Could Zoe ever do the same?"
Caught off guard by the mention of ten years ago, Simon finally showed a subtle reaction. His thoughts were instantly pulled back to that scene.
The Hawthorne Family had no shortage of enemies. Venturing into Portellis territory, those seeking trouble naturally wouldn’t pass up the opportunity. At the time, his car was rammed and flipped over. It had caught fire, the gas tank was leaking, and it threatened to explode at any second. Help had not yet arrived, and no one dared to step half a foot closer.
Hovering between consciousness and oblivion, a white skirt drifted through his blurry vision. The white embroidered camellias had looked exceptionally beautiful as someone pried open the door and dragged him out of the wreckage.
Afterward, he fell into a coma, lying unconscious for a week before finally waking up.
It was Peyton who had saved him.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK—
"Peyton?" Her assistant had arrived outside the door.
His thoughts snapped back to the present. Gently prying away the hands circling his waist, his voice sounded slightly hoarse. "I’m tired today. Just get some good rest for now. I’ll come see you when I have time."
He walked over and opened the door for the person outside.
Peyton watched his retreating back, her breathing growing heavier by the second. Resentment climbed into her eyes, deepening her urge to cry. It wasn’t until her assistant cautiously approached and called out, "Peyton?"
"Get out!"
This hotel was a five-star establishment in a prime location. It was perfectly common to see celebrities, dignitaries, and business tycoons frequenting the premises.
After heading downstairs, Simon didn’t immediately get into his car. He stood at the corner of the main lobby, lighting a cigarette and clamping it between his lips. Tipping his chin up, he half-squinted at the blooming locust tree flowers overhead.
Ten years ago in Portellis, he had been in a coma for a week before waking up. Because Peyton had been in a separate car and the attackers’ target was solely him, her vehicle hadn’t been heavily affected; she had only suffered a minor fracture in one arm.
He had investigated the incident afterward. The people who wanted him dead had come well-prepared, leaving no clues behind for him to trace. Even the surveillance cameras at the scene had been hacked.
Everyone said that if Peyton hadn’t disregarded her own life to pull him out back then, he would have died right there. There would be no Simon Hawthorne today.
Therefore, Peyton was a benefactor of the Hawthorne Residence. From then on, the Old Master had favored her immensely. As a result, the Joyce Family received robust backing, thriving even more effortlessly in Riventon.
But later—
A burning sensation at his fingertips gradually brought him back to reality. Looking down, he saw that the cigarette had burned down to the filter. He crushed it out beneath his shoe and was just about to leave when a gentle, indifferent voice drifted over from diagonally behind him.
"There are no issues with the contract. It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Hearst."
Simon’s dark eyes instantly deepened, a mocking sneer curving onto his lips. Enemies were truly bound to cross paths.
Miles Yates.