This was the first time in his thirty years of life that he felt so out of control.
There had never been a shortage of women who fancied him. Whether they were young ladies from prominent families or top-tier celebrities, some had resorted to extreme methods of seduction just to win his favor. There was no lack of those who stripped naked and lay in his bed.
Whenever he saw this, he remained unruffled. He would even toss them a coat to put on, then turn and walk out, having someone else come in to escort them away.
The Yates family possessed strict, upright values, and the men born into it were notoriously devoted. He was strict about relationships and refused to settle. A superficial attraction was never enough to make him take that step. He desired an overwhelming, passionate love—the kind where it simply had to be her.
It was about being responsible for himself, as well as his future partner. As a result, he had never forced anything over the years. He simply let things take their course.
But—
Faced with Zoe Lancaster in that situation, he had actually developed taboo thoughts. He was tortured by the dual pangs of longing and wicked desire.
Miles Yates furrowed his brow tightly, thinking over Jules Yates’s words again and again.
"Buddy is the best girl in the world."
A long time passed before Miles slowly opened his eyes, the depths of his gaze anything but clear and candid. He was losing his mind.
Wednesday.
Simon Hawthorne made a trip back to the Hawthorne Residence.
Mrs. Hawthorne asked, "I hear you two have been sleeping in separate rooms?"
Simon paused slightly. "Grandma, are you spying on us?"
The old lady rubbed her Buddha beads, her tone unhurried. "You two never moved into the marital home prepared for you years ago. You often work overtime or go on business trips, and when you do come back, you just make do with a night at The Imperial Residence. Miss Lancaster has been living alone, too. If word gets out, what would people say?"
Simon remained calm. "It’s a hidden marriage. No one pays attention to this sort of thing."
Mrs. Hawthorne narrowed her eyes. "Look at you. You really don’t put your heart into this. Don’t you think you’re wronging Miss Lancaster? You’ve already returned to the country, yet you’re still living apart—what kind of behavior is that! Habits can be changed. I’ll have someone tidy up the marital home; you two need to move in as soon as possible."
"Alright. Whatever you arrange." Simon didn’t object, acting as if he would agree to whatever she said.
Only then did Mrs. Hawthorne speak earnestly, "You’ll be twenty-nine after the New Year. It’s time to start planning for a child. Starting today, you need to prepare for a baby!"
At that exact moment, Peyton Joyce walked in, catching the tail end of that sentence. She paused, then walked in with a smile.
"Grandma, I’ve learned the art of tea brewing. Would you like a taste?"
Mrs. Hawthorne looked at her, her expression softening. "Your health is poor. Why exert yourself?"
Peyton shook her head. "I’m just really bored. I feel cooped up every day, and I’m afraid it’s going to make me sick."
Mrs. Hawthorne paused slightly before saying, "Peyton, you’re twenty-seven now, aren’t you? It’s time for you to get married. Is there anyone who catches your fancy? I’ll make the arrangements for you."
Peyton instinctively glanced at Simon, her hands gripping the hem of her clothes. Her face pale, she said, "Grandma, I’m not in a hurry. When I want to get married, I’ll let you know, okay?"
Mrs. Hawthorne didn’t miss Peyton’s glance. She frowned briefly.
"I’m just afraid of holding you up. Now that Simon is married, you should let certain things remain in the past. We all need to look forward. Be a good girl."
Tears almost slipped from Peyton’s eyes. "Can I... still find happiness?"
Simon frowned. "Grandma, let’s not bring up the past."
Mrs. Hawthorne paused, her gaze inevitably complicated. If the incident from a few years ago hadn’t happened, she could have accepted Peyton. But there were no ’ifs’ in this world.
As things stood now, there was absolutely no way she would allow the two of them to remain entangled. Only her husband, the old master, doted on Peyton. Because of that past incident, he obsessed over it—he would even be capable of making Simon divorce Zoe and marry Peyton.
Therefore, she had to strike first. She needed to get these two to have a baby as soon as possible to put an end to all this messy nonsense.
"Fine, I won’t say any more. As long as you all live your current lives well, that’s enough. Let’s not cause any unnecessary complications." With that pointed remark, Mrs. Hawthorne stood up. "As for the arrangements at the marital home, decorate it according to Miss Lancaster’s preferences. Put some effort into it."
With that, she turned and headed to the Buddhist hall.
Only Peyton and Simon were left in the living room.
Peyton looked at him with longing. "Simon, are you two... moving in together?"
Simon raised his eyes slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. "Yes."
Peyton smiled bitterly. "To think that back then, that marital home was meant for..."
"Peyton, if you get bored during the day, have Mercy come back more often to keep you company. Focus on resting and recovering your health." Simon stood up, his tone unhurried and remarkably patient.
Peyton stared at him in a daze. "Simon... can’t you spend more time with me?"
Simon paused, his elegant eyes carrying a complicated expression. After a moment, he replied, "I’ll try my best."
Finally, he looked her straight in the eyes. "But at the end of the day, I’m a married man now. Some things are inappropriate. You should understand what I mean."
Peyton stared blankly. In the end, she couldn’t utter a single word.
Friday.
Zoe Lancaster finished work quite early. Simon called to say he was picking her up.
After getting into the car, she looked puzzled. "Are we going somewhere?"
While looking at the laptop resting on his lap, Simon replied, "Somerset Gardens."
Zoe, of course, knew what this place was. When they got married, the Hawthorne family mentioned that when Simon turned twenty, he had personally selected a property there to be his future marital home. He had always been assertive and made his own decisions since childhood.
However, she had never actually lived in this marital home. After all, he had gone abroad the very next day. She also didn’t want to live all alone in a massive villa spanning thousands of square feet. It would have been too desolate.
"Why so suddenly?"
Simon closed his laptop. "Grandma doesn’t want us living apart anymore. She’s been sending people to keep an eye on us. When necessary, we have to put on an act."
That instantly sealed Zoe’s lips. She didn’t ask any more questions.
The sun was setting by the time they arrived. The villa covered a massive area. After the security guard at the gate let them in, it still took several minutes of driving to reach the main residence.
Simon got out of the car and looked at her. He reached out his hand, and without caring what she thought, directly grabbed her left hand, leading her up the steps. "All the passwords here are our wedding anniversary. Give it a try."
He motioned for her to unlock the door.
Zoe suddenly felt her palms sweating. She swallowed hard before punching in a string of numbers.
0817.
The door clicked open.
Zoe couldn’t describe what she was feeling. She felt a bit dazed. Was this really her and Simon’s home?
There were quite a few servants inside, each assigned to different areas. Zoe glanced at the living room’s interior design, which leaned toward a vintage and luxurious style. Almost instantly, her eyes caught sight of the white camellias arranged in vases on every single table. They were so striking that it was impossible not to notice them.
It seemed to declare a powerful presence that permeated the entire place.
She froze instantly. The camellias... The profile picture... Peyton Joyce... She uncontrollably connected the dots.
Simon glanced sideways at her, noticing that the woman’s face had paled slightly. She didn’t seem very happy.
He frowned. "What’s wrong?"
Zoe took a deep breath. Staring intently at him, she displayed a rare flare of temper. "I don’t like those flowers. Can we throw them away?"