The Ambrosia Pavilion was a seventy-year-old establishment in Kingsford. It was incredibly difficult to secure a reservation; its patrons were exclusively the rich and powerful. The dishes served were on par with state banquets, making it a favored venue for high-ranking officials and dignitaries to entertain esteemed guests.
The manager hurried to the entrance, bowing respectfully to the new arrival. "Mr. Hawthorne, your presence brings honor to our humble establishment. Your private room is on the third floor. Please, right this way."
Simon Hawthorne lazily lifted his gaze and nodded. At this hour, the main dining hall was already packed to capacity. While tables on the first floor were relatively easy to book, the exclusive private rooms on the third floor required a reservation at least half a month in advance.
The manager, a master of hospitality, was accompanied by a waiter carefully holding a bottle of wine. "This is a vintage from ’77. We’ve been saving it just for a distinguished guest like you, Mr. Hawthorne."
Simon glanced at it, his expression unreadable. Just as he was about to head upstairs, he heard a familiar voice from the corner below. He paused in his tracks.
"Zoe! Wait for me!"
Preston Quincy quickly caught up to Zoe Lancaster, grabbing her by the arm. His handsome face was etched with shame. "I apologize on my mother’s behalf. I know you hate these kinds of situations, but I promise it won’t happen again! Please don’t be mad at me, okay?"
In truth, Zoe didn’t dislike Preston. She knew he was a good person—or rather, while he usually acted wild and unrestrained, he was only ever good to her. He had given her all his patience. In the past, there might have even been a moment when she felt saved by him, a moment when she had genuinely liked him. But such feelings would ultimately crumble under the cruel weight of reality. They were simply not from the same world. She was completely sick of this suffocating exploitation!
"I’m not mad at you. It’s not your place to apologize for what your mother does, and there’s no reason I should be forced to swallow this kind of humiliation." Zoe took a deep breath. "Preston, if you truly care about me, just let this go, okay?"
If she were the one to unilaterally sever this relationship, to fall out with Preston and disobey Martin Lancaster, then Martin would have every excuse to make her life miserable. But if Preston was the one to end this farce, the outcome might be entirely different.
Preston looked at her resolute expression, a flicker of hurt crossing his eyes. "But I just like you. What am I supposed to do?"
Ever since his first awakening to love in middle school, his heart had belonged to Zoe. How could he possibly let it go?
Zoe’s breath hitched, an unavoidable ache blooming in her chest. After all, Preston was still her friend. She opened her mouth to speak. "You—"
"Watch out!"
A waiter carrying a bowl of hot soup was passing by. In her attempt to pull away from Preston, Zoe was on a collision course with the tray. Preston urgently grabbed her arm and yanked her into his embrace, shielding her tightly against his chest.
And this entire scene was taken in completely by Simon, who stood on the staircase above.
Just as Zoe tried to break free from Preston’s hold, a sharp shattering sound rang out nearby. Startled, she looked up toward the corner staircase—only to meet a pair of dark eyes devoid of any discernible emotion. He stood at a vantage point, surrounded by a flock of sycophants. And at his feet lay a shattered bottle of wine.
Simon looked at her with indifference, his gaze as frigid as a winter blizzard. His thin lips parted. "My hand slipped."
He was explaining the broken bottle of wine, his tone impossibly light and breezy. The manager’s face turned deathly pale, his heart bleeding for the loss. That was a vintage from ’77! A single bottle was worth over seven hundred thousand! And Mr. Hawthorne had just smashed it like it was nothing?! He had been walking perfectly fine. Then he suddenly stopped to look at the bottle, and in the next blink, he dropped it on the ground! How could he be so careless?!
Meeting Simon’s eyes, Zoe felt a sudden chill shoot down her spine. She instinctively shoved Preston away, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. She was absolutely certain—Simon had been looking right at her! Every muscle in her body wound tight, stretched to its absolute limit. She wondered if Simon would misunderstand seeing Preston hugging her, if he would be angry, if he would...
The very next second, Simon calmly withdrew his gaze and stepped over the messy pile of shattered glass, continuing his way upstairs. He threw out a single sentence. "Cheap goods. Let it break."
Those words, neither heavy nor light, landed squarely in Zoe’s ears. The color instantly drained from her face. She didn’t dare dwell on whether his comment held a double meaning.
Preston didn’t understand the sudden shift in Zoe’s expression. "Zoe? Are you feeling unwell?" he asked with concern.
Zoe swatted away his hand as he reached for her forehead. "Come outside with me," she said, thoroughly exhausted.
The temperature had dropped. Standing by the roadside, Zoe felt a biting chill that almost made her pass out. She couldn’t tell if the cold came from the weather or from her own heart. Then again, it made sense. He was the kind of man who would re-gift her jewelry meant for his mistress just to disgust her. Why would he care if she was entangled with another man? After all, he held no place for her in his heart.
Seeing her shiver, Preston took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. This time, Zoe didn’t immediately push it away. Instead, she looked him straight in the eyes. "You’re a great guy, but we just aren’t meant to be."
Seeing her finally soften her tone, Preston breathed a sigh of relief, his eyes shining brightly. "Who else would I be good to? Zoe, your mom is still sick, and it’s too tiring for you to handle everything alone. You can rely on me. Once we get married, I’ll help you take care of her. You won’t have to worry about a single thing!"
Zoe felt an unprecedented sense of calm. "Do you mean that I should marry you so you can give me enough money for my mom’s treatment—a transactional exchange—or do you genuinely want to help me?"
Preston hadn’t expected her to ask that and froze for a moment.
Zoe offered a bitter smile, cutting straight to the point without dragging things out. "We’re both adults. Look at you—you subconsciously use this method to get what you want. Deep down, you don’t actually respect me that much."
She slipped off his coat and handed it back to him. "Think about it."
She didn’t want to drag this out any longer. While Preston was still dazed, she quickly turned and headed to the parking lot to get her car.
After getting into the driver’s seat, Simon’s indifferent expression and those two words—"cheap goods"—continued to echo in her mind. It left her completely restless. Zoe pounded her fist against her stiflingly tight chest. It felt as though no air could reach her lungs.
She rolled down the window to get some fresh air, but out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Riley Lancaster—who had just been at the dinner gathering—entering the parking lot from another direction. Riley looked around warily, seemingly afraid of being seen. She then hurried over to a matte black Bentley, leaned down, and tapped on the window with a coquettish smile before climbing inside.
Zoe frowned and strained her eyes to look in that direction. She caught a glimpse of the Bentley’s license plate: Kingsford A33331. That plate number held an extraordinary amount of weight. It was definitely not something an ordinary person could possess.
Zoe peered toward the inside of the vehicle and saw that as soon as Riley got in, she climbed toward the driver’s seat and embraced the person sitting there. She was eagerly kissing him, pulling down her own shoulder straps, and fawning over the man. It looked as though they were going to do it right there in the car. The scene was shockingly explicit, painting Riley in a wildly promiscuous light. She looked entirely different from the noble, elegant eldest daughter of the Lancaster family she usually portrayed herself as.
Zoe was stunned. Was Riley dating someone?