Chapter 460 Nicholas, Are You Even a Man?
The fight between Nicholas and his wife continued to escalate.
Tonight, Hestia's world shattered as she witnessed the scandalous scene before her. She had always believed that even if her husband kept another woman in his heart, he remained faithful to their marriage. Never had she imagined Nicholas could be so shamelessly depraved, carrying on with this woman without a hint of remorse. How was this any different from rutting like animals?
In a burst of rage, she hurled an ashtray, striking Nicholas's brow. Blood trickled down his face, but the real damage was to whatever remained of their marriage.
"Are you finished?" Nicholas glared at her, his eyes dark with anger.
How could she be? Volcanic fury erupted within Hestia as she yanked Azalea from Nicholas's arms and slapped her twice across her delicate face, drawing blood.
Azalea covered her face silently. Her vulnerability only made her more pitiable.
"Enough, Hestia!" Nicholas exploded. "How far will you take this? Are you determined to push us to divorce?"
The word stole Hestia's breath. Looking at her enraged husband, she barely recognized the refined, gentle man she had fallen for. This stranger before her was corrupted by money, alcohol, and lust.
She stepped back, then grabbed the intertwined clothes from the sofa and fled.
"Mr. Moore..." Azalea pressed against Nicholas's shoulder, softly weeping. Under the crystal chandelier, her smooth skin and silky hair stirred his compassion.
Nicholas draped his coat over her shoulders while he pulled on a pair of trousers. Sitting on the sofa, he smoked thoughtfully. After two cigarettes, he turned to her.
"My grandfather would never accept you," he said softly. "My marriage was arranged, and divorce isn't a simple option. I can't give you official status in my life."
For a man to speak so frankly suggested Azalea held significant importance to him.
She nestled against his chest. "I don't care about status. I only want to remain by your side, Mr. Moore."
Normally, Nicholas wasn't a man ruled by passion. The Moore men prided themselves on self-discipline. But tonight, after being reprimanded by Matthew, scorned by Sarah, and publicly humiliated by his wife, he felt at war with the world. Only Azalea remained by his side.
A wave of emotion washed over him.
He bent down to kiss her tenderly. "Do you truly want to be with me?"
Azalea tilted her face to receive his kiss, pledging herself to him. "I care for you, Mr. Moore. I want to be with you."
Later that night, Eldon rushed over. Surveying the chaos and Nicholas's injured face, he feigned surprise. "What happened here? A hurricane? And your face, Mr. Moore—how did you get so hurt?"
He reached out as if to touch the wound, but Nicholas blocked his hand.
Under the lamplight, Nicholas studied his trusted aide. "Can I still trust you, Eldon?"
"Of course!" Eldon replied with practiced innocence. "Who else would you trust if not me? Uriah from the next office treats us like enemies. Your position is like a juicy steak, and I'm your most loyal guard dog."
"Enough with the metaphors," Nicholas said, taking a drag from his cigarette. "Hestia followed me here and discovered Azalea. She's gone back home with their clothes—it'll be chaos tonight. Azalea can't stay here anymore. Find us a suitable place, we need to move tonight."
Eldon grew serious. "That is tricky. But I have a friend with a vacant property. It's not large, but it's tasteful—located in the Sycamore Avenue cultural district. Quite fitting for Miss Gray's status."
Nicholas extinguished his cigarette and stood, his arm around Azalea. "We'll go now."
Two small suitcases and a car ride later, they arrived at the Sycamore Avenue apartment. Though modest at around 800 square feet, it was luxuriously appointed with exquisite furnishings. Even Nicholas, with his privileged background, was impressed by its opulence.
After settling Azalea in, Nicholas went downstairs to the car.
Eldon was driving. As they pulled away, he casually remarked, "The apartment is quite nice. Shame it's only temporary. Come spring, imagine Miss Gray painting by the window while the sunflowers bloom on the terrace—quite poetic."
Nicholas brushed his trousers and asked offhandedly, "How much is this place?"
"Not cheap, Mr. Moore," Eldon answered smoothly. "The property itself is worth about a million, but those furnishings are the real treasure—valued at over 30 million altogether."
Nicholas fell silent.
Sensing the tension, Eldon changed tactics. "Supporting someone like her on just your salary might be difficult. I could advance you the money until your situation improves."
Nicholas lowered the car window and smoked quietly in the back seat. Born into privilege, he couldn't bear the thought of his beautiful mistress living at someone else's mercy. After contemplation, he said, "I want to buy the apartment outright."
Eldon remained silent.
"Last month, didn't I turn down that project with the 50 million offer?" Nicholas said flatly. "Call them back."
Even as he said it, he felt disgusted with himself. When had Nicholas Moore ever compromised his principles for such trivial gains?
Finally, Eldon responded, "Of course. They'll be eager to accommodate you."
Meanwhile, the Moore Mansion blazed with lights as Hestia unleashed her fury. She had thrown the lovers' clothes in the main hall for all to see, pointing at the woman's undergarments with vicious words.
"Every night Nicholas didn't come home, I thought he was sleeping at the office because of our arguments. I never imagined he was keeping a mistress! Right in the living room, with servants walking by, they were shamelessly embracing, sweating..."
She painted the scene vividly while servants listened, riveted by the scandal.
In the hall, Matthew's face darkened with rage. He turned to Aaron. "Bring that ungrateful wretch back here. I'll beat him to death tonight!"
Aaron tried to calm him down.
Vaughn and his wife were stunned—they couldn't believe their precious son would do something so shocking. Was this still their Nicholas?
"Nicholas was seduced," Matthew fumed, his eyes flashing with murderous intent. Nicholas was still young, still naive—not yet ruthless enough.
The door opened as Nicholas entered.
Under the lights, his handsome face was a map of fresh and old injuries. He looked at Hestia, his voice weary, "Hestia, I don't love you. If you can't live with that, we should divorce."
After a long silence, Hestia found her voice, ice-cold in the vast hall, "You don't love me? Divorce? Nicholas, this isn't what you said when we married. You called me gentle and passionate, your ideal wife."
"That was before. Hestia, look at yourself now. Can you still claim to be gentle?"
Tears streamed down Hestia's face. "Who forced me to become this? Who pushed me to this point? Answer me, Nicholas!"
Nicholas had no response.
The night breeze rustled through the garden, stirring the lanterns. The sound infuriated Matthew, who ordered the servants, "Smash all those lanterns!"
"Father!" Isabella cried out, her hair disheveled. "Father, are you leaving Sarah without even this last shred of dignity? Those were prepared for the night she was welcomed back!"
But Matthew showed no mercy. The pink glass lanterns—the last trace of his once-cherished daughter—were shattered by his own command.
Nicholas was dragged to a room where Matthew beat him severely with a rod.
Vaughn and his wife were heartbroken but dared not intervene.
Hestia covered her mouth. Despite her hatred for Nicholas, seeing him beaten bloody broke her heart. Finally, she stopped Matthew. "Any more... and you'll kill him."
Matthew threw down the rod in disgust.
The night wind swept over Nicholas's battered body.
Isabella pleaded, "Nicholas, say something, anything!"
Matthew cursed, "He's bewitched! He doesn't even care about his mother anymore! This disloyal, unfilial bastard deserves death!"
Isabella wept loudly, "Nicholas, please, just say something!"
Nicholas had always felt affection for Isabella. Eventually, he conceded, "I've sent her away. I won't see her again."
Isabella sighed with relief.
Matthew sneered, "You'd better not."
The matter was settled, for now.
That night, Nicholas and Hestia returned to their bedroom. She tried to tend his wounds, but he refused, preferring a servant's care to her touch.
Yet as night deepened, they still shared the same bed.
Hestia wasn't foolish. She suspected Nicholas would continue seeing that woman, but to win back his heart, she pretended ignorance. She moved closer, nestling against his shoulder, attempting to seduce him like the women he desired.
In the darkness, she whispered, "Nicholas, don't take those pills anymore. Whatever she gives you, I can give you too."
With that, she slipped under the covers to please him.
Nicholas simply turned away, staring into the night.
Rejected and humiliated, Hestia broke down in tears. "Nicholas, are you even a man?"
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