A couple of days ago, Zoe Lancaster had managed to land a rare, high-paying PR crisis management project for a real estate firm in Kingsford. She had been swamped ever since, staying up late to draft proposals. Her mental state was already frayed, and then Simon Hawthorne just had to pull this stunt on her.
Crystal Hayes took a bite of her red bean shaved ice and began her logical analysis. "So Simon’s implying that he’s still a hot commodity? That even with Stella Joyce gone, he’s still got a whole lineup of side pieces waiting in the wings?"
Otherwise, what was the point of showing off the flowers someone else had given him?
Zoe kept her head down, aggressively shoving an oyster into her mouth. "Then he didn’t need to go out of his way to remind me. I know my place."
It would be a lie to say she wasn’t disappointed.
Unrequited love was a lonely battlefield. To make matters worse, she had no right to demand anything in return. Any grievance she felt was simply the consequence of her own choices.
"This Cantonese restaurant caters to big spenders. It’s usually impossible to get a reservation. I found over ten thousand inside that bouquet yesterday, and this meal is two thousand eight hundred. Might as well spend it." Zoe felt no psychological burden. Since he had told her to deal with it herself, she would throw the flowers away and happily accept the cash.
Crystal was still scrolling through the aftermath of Stella’s scandal, a vindicated expression on her face. "That piece of trash finally got her karma!" she mocked. "Based on the amount she was caught doing, she’s going to get a heavy sentence, especially with the charge of gathering a crowd. I just don’t get it. What kind of relationship did they have that made Simon protect Stella so fiercely before this?"
Zoe spaced out for a moment. Right. Some things didn’t seem to add up, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on the main point right now. She had a vague feeling that she was forgetting something.
Shaking her head, Zoe pushed the thoughts away. Anything involving Simon always made her thoughts jumble. "Maybe he’s just sentimental about their past."
"Bullshit! Stella wasn’t even his ex. Sentimental my ass. People say men never forget their exes—whoever becomes their ex, they never forget, loving every ex-girlfriend equally. But what kind of category does he fall into?" Crystal curled her lip. "You just need to bail as soon as possible. Take the money and run when the time comes. We’ll see if he’s any different from those scumbags who pine after their exes."
Zoe unconsciously considered the possibility before eventually shaking her head. She picked up a piece of white-cut chicken, poking at it relentlessly as her throat tightened slightly. "Pining over an ex means he actually loved them once. But he has no place for me in his heart."
Crystal wanted to say something, but Zoe had already stood up, her expression completely relaxed. "I’m going to pay the bill."
She walked away swiftly and urgently. Crystal watched Zoe’s back, unable to help but feel a pang of sympathy. How could she not know that Zoe was hurting?
What was love, anyway? What did it take to actually be loved?
Zoe walked briskly with her head down, her mood heavy. For a moment, she didn’t see the person approaching and walked straight into their arm. She caught a whiff of Jade Dragon tea perfume—a scent that seeped into her lungs, leaving a deep and lasting impression.
The coffee in the person’s hand spilled onto the back of Zoe’s hand. Fortunately, it was an iced Americano, so it didn’t burn.
Zoe shook her hand. "I’m so sorry..."
As soon as she spoke, a handkerchief was handed to her. The hand holding it had well-defined knuckles and long, slender fingers, with neatly trimmed, clean nails. The skin was slightly pale, revealing clear blue veins. On his wrist was a silver Patek Philippe watch of an unrecognizable series, exuding the distinct, attractive maturity of a man.
"Wipe it off."
The man didn’t have a Kingsford accent. His Mandarin was standard and very pleasant to the ear.
Zoe unconsciously took it and looked up. "Thank you..."
But the man had already turned away, preventing her from seeing his face clearly. She only saw that he was very tall, easily matching Simon’s height. He wore a gray overcoat that highlighted his broad back. With his height and long legs, he stood out remarkably in the crowd. He tilted his head slightly, listening as the person beside him spoke respectfully.
"President Yates, the Kingsford project has just been completed. How long do you plan to stay this time?"
The man seemed to curve his lips in a faint smile, acting the perfect gentleman. "Half a year."
Zoe stared at his retreating figure. Was that President Yates? From which company?
She looked at the handkerchief in her hand. The material was exquisite, and an Italian word—likely a name—was hand-embroidered on the corner. However, Zoe couldn’t read Italian. She shook her head, not overthinking it, and clutched the handkerchief as she continued on to pay the bill.
Little did she know, after she turned to leave, the man ahead of her stopped in his tracks. He looked back at her retreating figure, his gaze profound.
The person beside him looked at him speculatively. "President Yates? Do you know that young lady?"
Miles Yates withdrew his gaze and continued walking, his attitude impossible to decipher. "A friend of my younger brother’s."
After settling the bill.
Crystal received a phone call and had to leave for a last-minute tutoring session. It was the same wealthy client from last time, paying three thousand per session—a very generous sum. According to Crystal, the client was apparently a lawyer.
Zoe got into her car. Since she had taken on the real estate PR job, she had to squeeze time out of her break to head to the office. Just as she started the engine, her phone BUZZED.
She glanced at it casually, and then slammed on the brakes.
She flew forward before the seatbelt jerked her back heavily against the seat. She thought she had read it wrong, because a minute ago, she had received a bank deposit notification.
5.2 million had been deposited into her account.
She wondered if she should call the police. A massive sum had suddenly appeared in her account. Was this a scam? She had saved some money from working over the past two years, but it was only around two hundred thousand. Aside from that, there was the one million Simon had transferred to her a couple of days ago. Now, with this sudden influx of cash, she was genuinely panicking.
She instinctively started navigating to the nearest police station, but then her phone rang. It was Simon.
Zoe remembered that Simon seemed to have lawyer friends and hurriedly answered, "My account suddenly got a deposit of 5.2 million. I feel like something fishy is going on. There are so many shameless scammers out there these days, and fraud traps are everywhere. Can that lawyer friend of yours help me check what’s going on?"
"I transferred it," the shameless scammer himself replied.
"..."
The man’s voice was slow and unhurried, his tone completely placid.
After a long silence, Zoe pursed her lips. "...Divorce severance pay?"
"...Giving you the money before the term is even up? Zoe, do you really think business is that easy?" Simon’s voice grew even lower, carrying a hint of light mockery.
Zoe exhaled. She was used to his snark, and she also felt inexplicably relieved. "Right, I temporarily forgot about your true nature as a ruthless capitalist. So, what’s the money for? Compensation for all the things your old flame did to me? You’re so kind, Mr. Hawthorne."
In response to the backhanded compliment Zoe had just handed him, his tone was cold and arrogant. "In your dreams." After a pause, he said nonchalantly, "The pink diamond you gave me last time was sold. I transferred the money to you."
Zoe was taken aback. Was Simon really that much of a Scrooge? Didn’t he give it to Stella? Did he actually ask for it back just to sell it?
"The buyer is that romantic? They just happened to hit exactly 5.2 million?" Zoe was astounded. Perhaps finding it all too strange, her expression grew complicated as she probed, "Mr. Hawthorne, you don’t happen to like me, do you? Transferring this specific amount on purpose."