Because of that single sentence, Zoe Lancaster’s shoulder blade and arm seemed to throb with a dull ache again, reminding her of that terrible experience, the crazed man, and the heartless bastard who had kicked her and nearly stabbed her to death.
The anger in her chest continued to surge and compound.
Zoe met Stella Joyce’s eyes coldly. "Aren’t you afraid of karma?"
Stella slowly curled her lips, her beautiful face unspeakably vicious. "Did I do anything? I’m just a victim who was beaten. How can I interfere with what others think? Take Simon, for example. Even if he knows it has something to do with me, so what? Doesn’t he still turn a blind eye?" Stella smiled. "He cares about me. So even if I had you killed, he’d only care about whether I’m happy."
Her light and airy tone transformed into a dense barrage of sharp knives, stabbing into the most painful spots and nearly leaving Zoe gasping for air. However, Zoe didn’t show any abnormality on her face. She merely smiled mockingly. "If he cares about you so much, why doesn’t he divorce me and marry you? Stella Joyce, you’ve targeted me, his lawful wife, time and time again. Isn’t it just because you can’t get what I have?"
Zoe Lancaster had never been a pushover. She had the sharpest tongue.
Stella’s face turned ugly for a split second, but she quickly curved her lips into a smile and patted Zoe’s shoulder. "What a pity."
She narrowed her eyes, which flashed with hidden venom, and spoke in a voice only the two of them could hear. "That man only loves me. Otherwise, wouldn’t it have been better if he had just raped you that day?"
Zoe couldn’t help but be shocked by her shamelessness. She found it almost unbelievable that such vicious words could come from the mouth of a fellow woman. Just for a man, could someone truly become so utterly unhinged?
Stella glanced at her, a ghostly smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth. "It’s fine. We’ll take our time playing this game. I’ll give you plenty of surprises."
Stella maintained an approachable, innocent expression the entire time. No one knew what she had actually said.
Zoe walked into the elevator, expressionless. It wasn’t until the elevator doors closed that she could breathe normally again.
Stella was right about one thing. Simon Hawthorne really did care more about whether Stella was happy, even if Stella stopped just short of murder and arson. Was this the confidence that came from having someone to back you up?
*
Stella went to Simon Hawthorne’s office, knocked on the door, and entered.
Simon looked up. His expression was stern and cold, not showing much change. "What are you doing here?"
Stella stepped forward, unable to resist acting coquettishly. "Simon, did you forget something important? Today is my birthday. You couldn’t have forgotten, could you?"
Simon kept annotating documents. "Your gift will be delivered."
Stella pouted. She stepped closer and gently rested her hand on Simon’s shoulder, probing cautiously, not daring to go too far. "But I want you to accompany me."
Simon glanced at the hand on his shoulder, his Shauns holding unreadable emotions. "Read the room."
Stella wanted to pester him further, but seeing that Simon seemed to be in a bad mood, his whole body radiating a coldness like jagged ice, she didn’t dare act rashly. She could only say, "But you promised my family you would take good care of me..."
It seemed Simon finally remembered something. A subtle ripple appeared on his face. "I’ll go over after work."
Stella’s face lit up with joy. "It’s a promise."
Simon’s peripheral vision landed on the arm still resting on his shoulder. He frowned imperceptibly, then said in a casual tone, "Are you sick? Why are there needle marks on your arm?"
Stella froze for a moment, then hastily pulled down her sleeve, a flash of panic crossing her face. "It’s nothing. Just a little cold. Don’t worry about it, Simon."
Simon indifferently withdrew his gaze. "Mm."
All day long, Zoe couldn’t muster any energy. Many things had happened recently that nearly crushed her spirit. Now, adding to her poor judgment of character, Summer Thorne’s situation had also dealt her a heavy blow. It was useless no matter how good you were to someone; being a decent human being all came down to having a conscience.
Due to unexpected overtime, Zoe didn’t pack up to leave work until nearly nine o’clock. She hadn’t driven today, and the subway was still very crowded at this hour—after all, this was the Global Trade Concourse. She was simply too exhausted and couldn’t be bothered to squeeze onto the subway, so she walked to the side of the road to hail a cab.
Before long, a black Maybach slowly pulled up and stopped.
The rear window rolled down, revealing Simon Hawthorne’s noble and refined face. He turned his head, shot her a sidelong glance, and spoke in a tone that was both lazy and brokered no argument, "Get in."
Zoe felt a surge of annoyance. There were people coming and going everywhere here. Was he really not afraid of being seen?! Simon could afford to play these games, but she couldn’t. The purse strings for the rest of her life were still firmly in his grasp. Terrified of drawing attention, she hastily opened the car door and got in.
Linden was driving today. He smiled politely at her.
Zoe shrank into the corner, doing her best to widen the distance between herself and Simon.
Simon cast a glance at her, a soft scoff escaping his nose. "Am I going to eat you?"
Zoe pursed her lips and retorted skeptically, "Do you even have the energy for that?" He had probably just finished being intimate with Stella Joyce at noon.
Simon frowned. "All these veiled insults... Can’t keep up the act of a virtuous wife anymore?"
Resentment simmered in Zoe’s heart. "Pay me a salary, and I’ll act it out for you in every way imaginable." She was just that lowly; no matter what she did, she could never win. Since she only had the leeway to be mocked and ridiculed, she might as well just let it all rot.
Simon gave a cold snort, seemingly too lazy to bother with her.
Simon didn’t like environments that were too warm, so the heater in the car was rarely turned up high. Zoe was already pressed tightly against the door, and her naturally cold hands and feet made her feel even more freezing. She could only pull her collar tighter, hoping they would get home soon.
Suddenly, the car braked hard.
Caught off guard, Zoe stumbled and lurched forward from the momentum. A powerful arm wrapped around her waist. Zoe pitched uncontrollably toward him, crashing heavily into his embrace. Before she could even react, she found herself pressed against his chest. Feeling his body heat, which was much warmer than her own, the chill was instantly dispelled.
Linden let out an "Oops," then explained, "A little dog darted out in front of us. Are you alright, Ma’am?"
Zoe leaned stiffly against Simon. Did she look alright to him?! She had basically delivered herself right into the tiger’s mouth! She struggled and explained, "I’m fine. I didn’t do it on purpose."
Simon, however, simply trapped her in his arms, rendering her immobile. His body heat enveloped her as he spoke in a slow, unhurried drawl, "You’re quite good at falling, aiming straight for my abs." As he spoke, he threw her a glance. "All eight of them."
Zoe was dumbfounded. "Eight or not, I wasn’t aiming for—"
Simon closed his eyes but didn’t release her. "I’ll let you have your way this time. Just don’t let it happen again."
Zoe thought, "???"
Talk about taking the fucking blame for absolutely nothing! She could feel the arm resting on her lower back was as solid as a rock. There was no breaking free at all. Since Simon had already closed his eyes to rest, she figured it would be unwise to flail around pointlessly.
Zoe gradually quieted down. He was a human pillow worth hundreds of billions—getting to use him for free meant she wasn’t the one losing out. That shivering cold feeling was gone. Enveloped by his body heat and his scent, for a split second, she actually had the illusion that they finally looked like a loving married couple.
Perhaps Simon’s embrace was simply too warm and comfortable, because without realizing it, Zoe dozed off.
When she woke up, they had already arrived downstairs at her apartment building.
Zoe hastily pulled back from Simon’s embrace, stumbled out of the car, and adopted a perfectly polite attitude. "Thank you for the trouble, Mr. Hawthorne."
She ran upstairs without looking back. She had no idea what she was panicking over. Maybe it was because she had never shared such a peaceful, harmonious moment with him before.
Linden glanced at Zoe’s retreating figure and couldn’t resist making a joke. "Mr. Hawthorne, the Madam is quite polite to you, huh? She didn’t even invite you up for a bit."
As soon as he said it, he met a pair of cold, heavy eyes. Linden instantly clamped his mouth shut and hurriedly lowered his head.
Zoe stepped out of the elevator. The voice-activated lights in the hallway weren’t working very well. It was pitch black. She dug out her keys as she walked toward her door, then stomped her foot.
The light flickered on. But when she saw clearly what was at her door, Zoe’s face turned deathly pale, her heart nearly stopping.
"AH!"