"Zoe Lancaster! Have you lost your mind?!" Mrs. Quincy fumed. She turned to Martin Lancaster, unable to suppress the sharp dissatisfaction on her face. "Chairman Lancaster, it seems you need to properly discipline your ill-mannered daughter!"
Martin’s mouth twitched. "Zoe!" he snapped angrily.
He then looked at Simon Hawthorne, whose expression had remained cold and stern, and put on an apologetic smile. "My daughter has offended you, Mr. Hawthorne. Please don’t hold it against a little girl." He tugged at Zoe’s arm. "Hurry up and apologize to Mr. Hawthorne!"
This daughter of his was truly spoiled! In a setting like this, attended by prominent figures, how could she make such shameless jokes with just anyone?
Zoe was yanked by her injured arm, the pain nearly bringing tears to her eyes. Biting her lip, she raised her gaze to meet Simon’s dark eyes. She refused to say the words. Besides, Stella Joyce was standing right next to him!
Only then did Simon cast a faint glance at Martin’s hand gripping Zoe’s arm. As if bestowing a favor, he finally spoke. "It’s fine."
Martin hadn’t expected Simon to be so even-tempered as to genuinely let the matter slide. Feeling awkward, he let go of Zoe.
Zoe inadvertently met Stella’s gaze. Stella seemed quite irritated by her earlier remark, not even bothering to maintain a polite facade. The atmosphere remained stiflingly awkward.
Shrewd as ever, Mrs. Quincy observed Stella’s expression and chimed in, "Even if she doesn’t apologize to Mr. Hawthorne, shouldn’t she at least apologize to Miss Joyce? Having the audacity to act like this in front of the actual girlfriend—she should know some shame."
Zoe felt like she was sitting on pins and needles. Stella finally curled her lips into a faint smile but said nothing, seemingly waiting for Zoe to bow her head and admit her mistake.
The gazes of everyone around them fell heavily on Zoe. Condemning, urging, mocking—the overwhelming malice pierced her stubborn pride. She clenched her fingers and stayed rooted to the spot.
Instead, it was Martin who gave her another shove. "Hurry up! Can’t you be sensible for once?!"
Zoe felt like the target of everyone’s scorn. Even her own father disregarded her dignity, treating her as if she were cheap and worthless. Her heart bled, yet she found it incredibly ironic. See? There was never anyone standing behind her.
Stella raised an eyebrow. Watching Zoe squirm brought her an undeniable sense of glee. She was just waiting for Zoe to crumble under the pressure and shatter her own pride!
Just as the situation was on the verge of collapsing, Simon finally spoke. "Chairman Lancaster, there’s no need to make such a public spectacle," he drawled, his tone carrying a biting chill. "It’s a trivial matter. Why is everyone more riled up than me, the person actually involved?"
A flash of gloom darted through Stella’s eyes, and her nails dug fiercely into her palms. The slap that was supposed to hit Zoe’s face had invisibly landed on her own instead. The way others looked at her began to change.
Even Mrs. Quincy shrank back slightly. She had only been trying to curry favor. Why did it seem like Mr. Hawthorne didn’t care about Miss Joyce’s feelings at all?
Martin felt a faint sheen of cold sweat break out on his forehead. With Mr. Hawthorne calling him out like that, it made it seem as though he had been overly harsh on Zoe, thereby stripping the Lancaster family of its dignity.
Zoe forced her breathing to steady. She looked at Simon, but he didn’t spare her another glance. Was she supposed to thank him for his great mercy? Yet he was the very person who had plunged a knife into her heart! The day after the incident, he had casually brought Stella along as his date to these occasions as if nothing had happened. He truly had no heart.
"Zoe, why are you shaking? Are you cold?" Preston Quincy had finally escaped the crowd of socialites. Seeing Zoe trembling slightly as he approached, he immediately took off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders. "You’d look beautiful to me even in a thick puffer jacket. You don’t need to suffer by wearing something so thin in the dead of winter."
Zoe felt an icy glare land on her. Her throat went dry, and she didn’t look at Simon.
Preston wasn’t the most observant person and failed to notice the bizarre atmosphere. His attention was entirely focused on Zoe. He even tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. "My Zoe is so beautiful!"
Martin was finally delighted. "Look at these two kids, what a perfect match. Preston is a good boy. You must treat our Zoe well. As for the wedding..."
Simon narrowed his eyes, watching this farcical scene like a detached bystander.
Mrs. Quincy gave a mild huff. "The wedding date depends entirely on what my son thinks."
Zoe felt like she was standing on the edge of a sheer cliff, with no way out in either direction. Did she have to single-handedly salvage this absolute disaster?! Especially with Simon staring at her the entire time with such an intensely cold gaze.
Her lips parted, instinctively wanting to interrupt Martin and the others, but she lucidly held herself back. She was acting like a clown, desperately wanting to explain herself, but did Simon even care?
Mrs. Quincy didn’t want to continue the conversation. She directly changed the subject to Simon and Stella. "Mr. Hawthorne, we’ve heard many rumors about your relationship. When do you plan on getting married and having kids?"
Simon’s gaze swept past Zoe, who had kept her head down the whole time. A cryptic scoff escaped his throat, dripping with mockery. "Mrs. Quincy, you should pay more attention to your son, lest he makes a poor judgment in character."
Leaving behind that thought-provoking remark, he turned and walked away.
Zoe lowered her eyelids. Every pain receptor in her body felt as if it had been shredded. No one knew she was already bleeding out from the inside.
Guests mingled and moved about the banquet hall. Not wanting to entangle herself any further with Preston, Zoe deliberately avoided him and found a quiet corner to sit and drink her sorrows away. Yet, within her line of sight, she could catch glimpses of Simon every now and then. Beside him, Stella played the role of a beautiful, gracious confidante, receiving countless blessings.
The only one struggling bitterly in the abyss was her, hiding in the corner. Zoe rarely cried. She had endured so many grievances and hardships since childhood that she couldn’t even manage a silent release of emotion while hiding away.
However, to Riley Lancaster, Zoe’s quiet solitude was tantamount to smashing her own future riches and glory! Zoe was clearly dodging Preston. Their relationship was already on thin ice, and if it completely fell apart, would Martin still give her those shares?! Riley’s face darkened with irritable gloom.
Staring at the figure in the furthest corner, she found an empty, secluded spot and made a phone call. "Send me something. I don’t care what method you use, just get it here. Zoe doesn’t know what’s good for her! I’m going to have to personally push her and Preston together."
With that, she hastily hung up and hurried away.
Shortly after Riley left, the door to the adjacent restroom opened. Stella walked out with narrowed eyes. The corners of her lips suddenly curled into an irrepressible smile of excitement, the light in her seemingly innocent eyes masking a dark gloom.
***
Zoe downed two glasses of champagne, but her foul mood remained unabated. The table was now empty.
Just then, a waiter walked by carrying a tray of drinks. Tactfully, he set down two fresh glasses for her before walking away. Zoe picked up a glass and downed it in one gulp. It was tequila—relatively strong. The burn made her cough a few times. Having drank too fast, she felt a bit unwell and decided to stop drinking altogether.
Within two minutes, she felt a fiery heat engulfing her entire body, leaving her gasping like a fish out of water. She shook her head, wondering how she had gotten drunk so fast today.
Stumbling to her feet, she followed the stairs behind her up toward the rooftop garden. She wanted to get some fresh air and sober up. She had just reached the rooftop and had barely taken a few steps when someone came forward to support her. The voice sounded oddly enchanting.
"Miss Lancaster, you’re drunk. Let’s go to a room so you can rest for a while."