"Evie...?"
It was the first time she had heard this nickname. Zoe Lancaster’s chaotic mind couldn’t quite process it. Why would Simon Hawthorne call her that? He had always only ever called her by her full name. Hearing his deep, pleasant voice call her that now... she even thought it was an illusion.
Was it? She was destined never to get an answer, because Simon didn’t say another word.
Embracing her from behind, he let her nestle into his arms in the most comfortable position. Zoe stared dazedly at the hand that now wore the ring again; its heavy weight provided a sense of reality. She couldn’t understand Simon. Why exactly was he doing this?
It was already past three in the morning. Too exhausted to think, Zoe forced herself to stay awake just long enough to say before closing her eyes, "You promised me you’d help me handle—"
Simon’s hand, resting on her waist, paused. Finally, he responded with a lukewarm tone, "You’re always so dedicated to other people." Whether it was Preston Quincy in the past, or now. What she sought and begged for was always others, others, others.
Zoe didn’t answer. It seemed like a tacit admission.
Just as she was about to fall asleep, the phone on the nightstand suddenly began to BUZZ, making her flinch as if startled. Simon turned to answer it. She didn’t know if it was her imagination, but his voice seemed to soften a bit. "What’s wrong?"
She didn’t know what the person on the other end said, but he sat up almost instantly. "I’ll be right there. Take good care of her."
Zoe thought, "Her?" Her eyelashes fluttered; an answer seemed ready to burst forth.
Simon quickly got dressed. Before leaving, he glanced back at the motionless figure on the bed and dropped a single sentence. "Your aunt’s situation will be handled." Having given his guarantee, he strode away.
Zoe remained in that position, unmoving. It wasn’t until her arm went completely numb from being slept on that she blinked slightly. Her eyes were terribly dry, much like her heart, which felt as though it were being ground down by sandpaper.
From beginning to end, he hadn’t shown any abnormalities, but a woman’s innate sixth sense told her otherwise. This phone call was far from ordinary. He had only said he would resolve her aunt’s issue, but why didn’t he say where he was going tonight, or who he was going to see? The person on the phone who could make him rush over without a moment’s hesitation—who was it?
Lying on her side, Zoe couldn’t help but curl up into a tight ball. She pressed a clenched fist against her chest in an attempt to suppress the sharp pain, trying to deceive herself just this once. But ultimately, it was to no avail; it did absolutely nothing.
His scent still lingered around her. She used to love this fragrance, a scent that belonged uniquely to Simon. His colognes were all custom-blended by top international perfumers. It was a scent she had remembered for all these years. Yet now, even though she was lying in his bed and had been nestled in his arms just a second ago, she felt she was still so, so far away from him.
Zoe closed her eyes, trying hard not to overthink things, but she still suffered from insomnia. Her physical exhaustion was no match for her uncontrollable racing thoughts.
It wasn’t until early the next morning. It was already past nine o’clock when Zoe received a call from an unfamiliar number.
Having not slept a wink all night, her voice was somewhat hoarse. "Hello?"
A magnetic and steady voice came through the phone. "Ms. Zoe Lancaster, I presume?"
"That’s me. Who is this?"
"I am Caleb Ford, a friend of Mr. Hawthorne’s, and a lawyer. I’ve already been briefed on the specifics of your aunt’s situation. Although I’ve never handled a divorce litigation case before, you don’t need to worry. It won’t be a big problem."
The man’s voice was unhurried, giving off a strong sense of reassurance. His steadfastness practically leaped through the receiver, making one unconsciously trust him.
Zoe sat up instantly. "Okay, thank you so much for your trouble."
"You’re welcome," Caleb replied.
They spoke briefly about the general situation before hanging up. Zoe immediately searched for Caleb Ford’s personal information online and actually found it. Caleb Ford was the boss of Sterling Law Firm, which boasted the highest win rate in the country. The most elite lawyers were all gathered at this firm, and Caleb himself held the title of an undefeated myth. He had taken on countless domestic and international cases and had never lost a single one.
Zoe was stunned. Such a top-tier lawyer was actually brought in to handle a simple divorce case. Even she couldn’t help but feel it was a reckless waste of talent. No wonder Caleb said he had never handled divorce litigation. But with his abilities, this would be an absolute breeze.
Her suspended heart suddenly settled. However, she didn’t feel relaxed for long before growing tense once again.
What about Autumn Linden’s situation?
Dawn broke.
The weather in Sorina was unlike that of Kingsford. It was already past the New Year, and the temperature had stabilized considerably. The morning was hazy with mist, and the roadside was still dotted with lush, vibrant colors, as if completely disconnected from winter.
Under the dreary gray sky, a Bentley pulled up and parked on the side of the road. A bodyguard stepped out and respectfully opened the rear door.
Sean Sheffield stepped out with his long legs. He wore only a black dress shirt, which plastered against his skin in the wind, revealing the faint outlines of his muscles. With a cigarette dangling from his lips—the cherry flaring and fading—he narrowed his amorous eyes at the casino hidden deep at the end of the alley.
Leaning against the car door, he waved his hand. The casino doors burst open immediately.
The casino manager was dragged out by the bodyguards like a baby chick by the scruff of its neck. Several of the casino’s thugs and hooligans were also brought out; currently sporting bruised and swollen faces, they knelt on the ground, begging for mercy. They didn’t understand why they had provoked such a smiling grim reaper!
"Where is she?" Sean asked, flicking his cigarette ash.
Soon, a bodyguard led a young woman out from inside. Sean narrowed his eyes, observing the girl through a veil of smoke.
She looked to be under twenty. She wore the most uninteresting wide-leg jeans, a milky-white turtleneck sweater, and carried a nerdy backpack. Her hair, tied up in a bun, was a bit messy at the moment, with loose strands falling across her pale, clean little face. Her features couldn’t be considered stunningly beautiful—only delicate and pretty—but her eyes were incredibly pure, possessing an untainted clarity.
The young girl stared at him defensively, highly vigilant, as if in her eyes he was just another thug or hooligan.
Sean beckoned with his finger. "Come here."
Autumn Linden didn’t move. Instead, the bodyguard next to her grabbed her arm and yanked her right in front of Sean. Sean shot the bodyguard a mild glance, his tone lazy and frivolous. "Be gentle with the little girl. Can’t you see she’s already mistaking me for a hooligan?"
The bodyguard hastily released Autumn. She didn’t understand what was going on, but the thought of her father pawning her off to the casino filled her with lingering fear. She couldn’t help but glare at the flashy, showy man in front of her. Her mother had told her that the beautiful ones were usually the most poisonous.
Sean looked at the girl’s facial expressions with amusement. She was young, after all; whatever she was thinking was written all over her face. It was quite entertaining.
Using his phone to lift Autumn’s chin, he carefully scrutinized her face and unceremoniously blew a puff of smoke right at her. "Where are your manners, little girl?
"I saved you, and you still glare at me. Should I just gouge your eyes out?"