Chapter 461 I Deserve It
Francis continued, "Otherwise, after you describe Willard's condition, Coralie can piece together the diagnosis without needing medical records. She's also sending Louis a signal that she's seen through his scheme."
He added, "If Willard can text me, that means he's better. Just treat Coralie however you normally would. She's always been good to women."
But Elissa couldn't agree. Even if Coralie was kind to women, even if their relationship was good now, that was beside the point. And precisely because they were friends, she shouldn't become an "accomplice."
She texted Coralie an apology, then told Francis, "I'm angry and I've decided to punish you by not talking to you for three days."
Francis quickly defended himself, "I just didn't want Willard using his injury to threaten Anne, so I wanted him to get treatment quickly. That's why I asked you to contact Coralie."
Elissa scoffed, "But you knew Yves would use this method to find Coralie, yet you didn't tell me and still went ahead with it."
Francis felt wronged, "Honey, be reasonable. I know about their cat-and-mouse game, but I couldn't care less about their relationship. I asked you to contact Coralie because I genuinely wanted to cure Willard quickly so Anne wouldn't be bothered by this anymore."
Elissa shook her head, "Don't say so much. I don't want to hear it. You were more charming when you talked less. I've unilaterally decided not to talk to you for three days, and you must comply, or I'll be furious. Your choice."
Elissa didn't give Francis another chance to speak and left with Anne. Anne worried about Elissa, reminding her, "Slow down, Elissa. You have a baby. Walk slower."
Francis hurried after them, equally concerned. Using his long legs to his advantage, he blocked Elissa's path. "I agree to everything you said. Just slow down and take care of yourself."
Elissa ignored him—the punishment had already begun. Francis watched her leave the restaurant and hail a taxi. His lips pressed into a hard line. He'd never meddle in anyone's affairs again.
Anne felt guilty and apologized to Elissa, "I'm sorry, Elissa. My problems have caused so much trouble and made you fight with Francis."
"It's fine," Elissa said lightly. "I was looking for an excuse to give Francis the cold shoulder for a few days anyway."
"Why?"
"Because he's too anxious."
Anne was still confused, "Isn't your morning sickness cured?"
"That's cured, but I feel like he's been mentally anxious ever since." Yesterday when they made love, Elissa noticed he wasn't fully present, still worried about her pregnancy and what might go wrong. This morning he woke up researching and consulting again. He hadn't even planned to let her visit Anne—when she insisted on coming to the hospital, he actually wanted to use the opportunity to get her checked. She refused and left with Anne directly.
During dinner, she'd been thinking of solutions. Coralie had said psychological issues couldn't be helped—they'd resolve after delivery. But delivery was still months away, and she didn't want to watch Francis suffer like this. So when the opportunity presented itself, there was no reason not to use it.
After hearing this, Anne gave her a thumbs up. "Brilliant."
Elissa flipped her hair. After all, she'd once been a heartthrob. But she didn't want to corrupt Anne—she wanted Anne to have sincere, warm love.
"Come to Maple Valley. I'll arrange everything."
In Seaside City, on Willard's turf, if anything happened, she couldn't do much.
Anne had been considering this anyway. Before, she hadn't known Elissa was her sister. Now that she did, she wanted to be with her only family in the world.
"I'll fly back later. I have an assistant to settle first."
"Good."
Elissa had the taxi go to the airport. After seeing Anne through security, she planned to find a hotel for a couple days. Turning around, she bumped into Francis's embrace. Before she could react, he swept her up and smoothly deposited her in the car.
Francis's slightly aggrieved, magnetic voice sounded in her ear: "You can refuse to talk to me, you can ignore me, but you can't not come home."
But if she went home and he watched her constantly, wouldn't he still be anxious? Elissa's eyes darted around as she pushed him away. Without looking at him or speaking, she instructed the driver, "To the hotel."
Francis suddenly gripped her hand tightly, then immediately loosened his hold when he realized his strength. "Sorry, I lost control for a moment..."
Elissa just frowned without speaking. The driver didn't dare move. When Elissa spoke again, he looked at Francis in the rearview mirror, waiting for orders.
Elissa missed Felix. Felix also missed driving—during breaks he could eat so many good things, unlike in Arcturus where there was only ice and snow.
"I seem to remember the Peterson family has rules that anyone serving any Peterson family member must obey me. Francis and I are equals—our commands carry equal weight."
The driver could only start the car, but drove very slowly, obviously waiting for Francis's orders. Even when they reached the hotel entrance, none came.
Elissa got out, but her other hand was firmly held. Just as she prepared to struggle free, Francis loosened his grip. He followed her through check-in and watched her enter her room, then had someone book the room across the hall.
Elissa glanced over but ignored him, texting Hope instead.
After reading Elissa's message, Hope asked, "Aren't you afraid he'll be more anxious?"
Elissa replied, "At least it'll divert his attention somewhat, instead of fixating on my pregnancy."
"He cares about you and fears something might happen."
"But I feel like I can't breathe..." Elissa sighed, "I keep telling myself he cares, means well, does everything for me. But I just feel suffocated. It's just pregnancy—there can be precautions, but not this level of tension."
Hope understood and comforted her, "Your relationship is fine. You won't break up over two days of space. Having personal time is okay too. Just watch your health, and most importantly, your mood. Need me to come keep you company?"
"No need," Elissa said. "Then Jerry would follow and annoy my husband."
True. Jerry's way of caring for friends involved annoying them first, watching enough drama before helping.
Hope said, "What do you want to eat? I'll have someone deliver it."
"I knew you understood me best."
"Your cold war is probably because you're craving food. With Francis watching you constantly, when do you get to sneak bites?"
Elissa sighed, "If I begged, I could get a bite, but couldn't really enjoy it."
Hope had given birth and though her situation was special, toward the end she'd craved stimulating foods—especially things she'd never liked before. Elissa's normal, smooth pregnancy probably made these cravings even stronger.
"I'll have Steven deliver. He's thorough—Francis won't notice. But I won't buy much, just a taste."
"Love you."
To prevent Jerry from tattling, Hope said goodbye to work her charms.
Elissa played on her phone while waiting. When she was getting drowsy, someone knocked with a rhythmic pattern. Thinking it was Steven, she opened the door immediately but saw no face. Looking down, she found a little boy.
"You're not my mommy." The boy frowned, "But why are you in 6001?"
Elissa looked around confused. "Little one, you're on the wrong floor. This is the ninth floor."
"Impossible. I pressed six in the elevator. I couldn't be wrong."
The door across opened and Francis emerged, asking, "What's wrong?"
Elissa wouldn't speak to him, telling the child, "But this really is the ninth floor. If you don't believe me, let's check the elevator."
The boy frowned and nodded. Elissa followed him to the elevator and pointed at the display, "See? Ninth floor."
The elevator opened and the boy entered, pressing six. Elissa followed, as did Francis silently.
"Where did you run off to!" As soon as the elevator opened, a woman's voice shouted, "Do you know I've been going crazy looking for you?"
Elissa mediated, "The child probably miscounted and went to the ninth floor. Don't worry—talk to him nicely. He didn't mean it."
The woman pulled the boy away. Seeing no violence intended, Elissa couldn't interfere further in family matters and returned to the elevator.
Francis blocked the elevator door the entire time. Elissa avoided looking at him, staring at the ascending numbers instead.
Back in her room, she smelled delicious aromas and quickly shut the door, afraid Francis might notice. To Francis, her forceful door-closing seemed like continued anger, so he didn't dare provoke her.
Elissa saw various snacks spread on the table and wanted to squeal with joy. She restrained herself, texting Hope her thanks. Of course, Hope was temporarily unavailable to reply.
Steven was truly something. Elissa took a bite and sighed with satisfaction.
Anne landed and was texting Elissa about her safe arrival when she collided with a human wall. Looking up at the man's face, she wasn't surprised. She glanced away and walked around him.
Getting Elissa's reply, she pocketed her phone and walked faster. Outside the airport, she hailed a taxi. Just as she was about to close the door, someone squeezed in.
"Willard!" She couldn't take it anymore, "What are you doing!"
Willard said calmly, "Sharing a ride."
With his usual entourage of drivers and bodyguards, he needed to share rides? That personality of his really never changed.
"Are you two going or not?" The driver was impatient, "If you couples want to fight, don't do it in my car. I need to make money."
"Go."
Anne couldn't be bothered arguing—she'd be leaving for Maple Valley soon anyway.
As the car started, she stared out the window. Willard's gaze fell on her profile. The sunlight was soft today, casting gentle golden light on her face, revealing fine, adorable down. Amusement flickered in his eyes.
Anne found his staring annoying but knew that engaging Willard only encouraged him.
"What I said at the hospital wasn't what I meant."
After a moment's silence, Willard explained, "I admit my methods were clumsy. I shouldn't have used filming as an excuse to send you away. But at the time, I genuinely didn't want you to see me in such a pathetic state. I deserved it."
Anne put on headphones. Willard was speechless—this was really difficult. He'd genuinely wanted to repair their relationship, to apologize properly and make amends for past mistakes. Yet he kept making more errors, pushing her further away.
Now they were truly divorced. This injury incident hadn't improved their relationship but made it worse.
"Sir," the driver couldn't stand it, "your apology lacks sincerity. No wonder this lady won't forgive you. Let me tell you—your girlfriend is young, so you need to humble yourself and coax her properly. Otherwise, you might as well find someone your own age."
Willard's mouth twitched, "How can you tell I'm older?"
The driver beamed with pride, "I drive passengers daily. I'm good at reading people. Though I can't guess exactly, I know roughly. You're around thirty-five, right?"
And he'd said he couldn't guess accurately. What would count as accurate then?
As Willard prepared to respond, the driver continued, "This lady is at least ten years younger than you."
He had to admit the driver was impressive. In his work, Willard had encountered people with such abilities.
He no longer wanted to speak, but the driver wasn't finished.
"And how can you apologize with just words? Women appreciate a bit of ceremony, so your apology should come with gifts they actually like. You need to be more sincere, and your attitude should be a lot humbler. The way you apologize now sounds like a boss lecturing his employees—who could forgive that?"
Willard was genuinely shocked. Anne had said he was high-and-mighty. Even when ill, his apologies and attempts at vulnerability always came from a place of superiority; he never really humbled himself to meet her as an equal.
He also hadn't considered that apologies required gifts. Suddenly he remembered Francis and Jerry were right, even Louis—who had his own relationship problems—had been correct. He'd really sabotaged himself.
"Thank you. I understand now."
The driver was satisfied, "You're reasonable after all. Clearly well-educated. I'm sure you can earn forgiveness—as long as your mistakes weren't domestic violence, emotional abuse, or other serious wrongs."
That was it then. Willard's mistakes were exactly the most serious kind. What dignity did he have left now? With no choice, he humbly sought the driver's advice.
"If, hypothetically, it was emotional abuse, how would one make amends?"
The driver glanced back at Willard during a red light, then turned forward and shook his head.
Willard was baffled. "You..."
The light turned green and the driver floored it, weaving through traffic at top speed to reach their destination quickly.
"Fifteen dollars."
Willard was utterly speechless.
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