He narrowed his eyes. His expression seemed to frost over.
Mercy Hawthorne was the first to notice her brother’s demeanor. Realizing the current situation was highly inappropriate, she quickly spoke up, "I remember that Zoe Lancaster is excellent at playing the violin. On such a lively occasion, why don’t you play something for us to enjoy?"
Zoe hadn’t expected to be suddenly called upon to play.
Mrs. Hawthorne also curled her lips into a smile. "Is that so, Miss Lancaster?"
Zoe didn’t act coy. "As long as you don’t mind my humble skills, Grandma," she said graciously.
Cecilia Sloan immediately chimed in, not minding at all that Zoe was becoming the center of attention. "I have a violin. You can use mine."
In truth, Zoe had rarely played in recent years. However, she had once won a national championship, and her skills were nothing to scoff at. No matter how much time had passed, muscle memory always remained.
Simon Hawthorne took a seat, his fingertips rubbing against a white jade teacup. His calm, unruffled gaze fell upon the woman’s graceful figure in the center of the hall. As she picked up the violin, it was as if she radiated her own halo, looking so poised and confident.
She played a Bach sonata. Standing under the warm light, her fair skin exuded a translucent, jade-like glow. With her lips slightly curled, her charm flowed naturally, making it impossible for anyone to look away.
Yet, she had never showcased this talent for him alone.
His memories drifted back to two years ago. At a dinner banquet, the young woman had been forced to use the violin she was so proud of to entertain a bunch of pot-bellied, good-for-nothing gluttons. With just a fleeting glance, he had seen the disgust hidden in her eyes. She had a rare, unyielding pride.
As for why he had felt a moment of pity and taken her away back then...
The light in Simon’s eyes flickered slightly before finally settling back into tranquility.
The song came to an end.
Even Mrs. Hawthorne was full of praise. "With skills like this, you’d have no problem entering a competition. It’s just like back then..." The old lady abruptly swallowed the rest of her words and seamlessly changed the subject. "The pastries are ready. Let’s go have a taste."
Zoe didn’t pay it much mind. She had only performed to give Simon face anyway. Setting the violin down, she felt the stifling atmosphere of the gathering becoming a little too much to bear. She quietly slipped away.
Stepping out into the courtyard, she stared at the unmelted snow, lost in thought.
"Why aren’t you eating the pastries?"
Simon’s clear, deep voice came from behind her.
Zoe turned to look at him. He was still rubbing the pinky ring on his left hand. It seemed like he wore that ring all the time; she had never seen him take it off.
Zoe silently averted her gaze. "I just felt it was a bit too stuffy inside, so I came out for some fresh air."
"Excuses," Simon said, giving her a mild glance. "You clearly just didn’t want to deal with this kind of social setting."
She simply found it troublesome.
Having been seen through, Zoe didn’t feel embarrassed. After all, those people weren’t her family. Sooner or later, they would become strangers to her. There was no need to put so much pressure on herself to play the role of the perfect, dutiful wife and cater to them.
"Then why did you come out?" she asked.
"Come with me."
Simon didn’t answer her question. After dropping that single sentence, he turned and walked toward his private courtyard. Knowing this was an order and not a request, Zoe curled her lip and followed, maintaining a polite distance.
Even after entering the door, Zoe’s mood remained low. Her pet, Heartbreaker, had gone completely wild during its stay at the Hawthorne Residence over the past few days, running amok everywhere. Now, it was nowhere to be seen. Zoe had wanted to use Heartbreaker to ease the current awkward atmosphere, but she couldn’t even find a trace of it.
With no other choice, she walked over to pour a glass of water without looking at him. "Is there something you need, Mr. Hawthorne?"
She seemed to be calling him Mr. Hawthorne a lot more frequently lately. It carried a hint of... alienation.
Simon took off his jacket and leaned against the edge of the sofa. He just stared at her and asked casually, "Are you angry?"
Zoe pointed at herself. "Me? Why would I be angry? Mr. Hawthorne, I certainly don’t have a death wish."
"Sarcastic, with a honeyed tongue and a hidden dagger," Simon evaluated, his voice cold and stern.
Zoe couldn’t understand why he was still reprimanding her. A flash of displeasure crossed her beautiful eyes. "Did you call me over just to scold me? Mr. Hawthorne, did I do something to offend you?"
She actually did harbor some resentment. Even if their marriage was just a contract, she was still his wife in name. Seeing her in trouble, he hadn’t lifted a finger to help, leaving her terrified at the prospect of being fired and sued. Wasn’t that far too cold and ruthless?
"Come here. Get a little closer and say that to me." His expression remained unchanged, the corners of his lips curling up imperceptibly, making him seem rather calm.
Zoe, however, had the nerve to make sarcastic remarks but lacked the courage to actually push her luck.
She turned her head away. "It’s not like you can’t hear me from over here. You’re in the prime of your life, Mr. Hawthorne, so you shouldn’t be hard of hearing yet..."
"Zoe Lancaster, I won’t say it a second time."
This time, Simon’s tone carried an unmistakable, impatient coldness. It exuded an unsettling, gloomy chill that was quite intimidating.
Zoe gritted her teeth, her displeasure surging as her sense of grievance magnified. She couldn’t understand it. She was the one who had been humiliated and left to fend for herself, so what right did Simon have to be so fierce?
She clenched her fingers tightly and reluctantly took small steps toward him.
Perhaps having lost his patience, Simon reached out and forcefully pulled her over. Zoe stumbled forward, coming to a halt right between his legs. As if on purpose, Simon slightly bent one of his legs, blocking her path of retreat.
He grasped her left hand and, under the dim light, carefully examined her ring finger. "Has the wound healed?"
He was referring to the small cut Zoe had accidentally gotten at the company a couple of days ago.
Zoe felt a bit speechless. Suppressing her irritation, she retorted, "Yes, it was such a severe injury. I even went to the hospital that day for a surgical suture. It almost healed too fast for them to operate."
Although she was born and raised in Kingsford, she didn’t have the typical drawling accent of the locals. Her mother was from Sorina, and likely due to her mother’s influence, her pronunciation was delicate and sweet. Her standard Mandarin, paired with her pleasant, soft voice, possessed a unique charm—making it sound more like she was coquettishly whining.
Because of this, even when uttering such obvious sarcastic remarks, it didn’t seem like she was throwing much of a temper.
Simon stared thoughtfully at her face, still not releasing her hand. "Speak properly."
Zoe felt that Simon was being particularly exasperating today. It made her want to retreat, completely unable to figure out what was going on in his mind. She turned her head away and tried to pull her hand back. "Got it. The wound healed ages ago. There’s no need to inspect it so closely."
She tugged for a good while, but it wouldn’t budge.
A streak of stubbornness flared within her. She whipped her head back around to question him, "What are you doing..."
Her voice caught in her throat. An icy sensation came from her ring finger.
She watched helplessly as Simon, seemingly out of nowhere, produced a ring and casually slipped it onto her ring finger. It was like a magic trick.
The ring featured a ten-carat, flawless square-cut diamond. Resting on her slender, fair finger, it looked even more dazzling and eye-catching.
She froze.
Immediately, her heartbeat abruptly accelerated.
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
Beat after beat, it echoed with crystal clarity in her ears, shaking her to the core. It was as if her heart, brimming with love and hidden in an unknown corner, had suddenly sprouted wings. It felt like it was about to shatter her sternum, break free from its concealment, and expose itself to the world.
"You..."
Holding her hand, Simon carefully inspected it. Indeed. It was a perfect match.
"Our marriage was rushed. There was no wedding preparation, and I never gave you a wedding ring. I’m making up for it today." He lifted his eyelids, his expression unreadable, and spoke slowly, his voice laced with a raspy undertone. "It suits you very well."
Zoe never expected that he would go in such a massive circle just to give her a ring. She felt as though her heart had been tossed high into the sky, suspended in a precarious state where it could plummet and shatter into pieces at any second.
Why...?