Chapter 215 Why Not Remarry?
"Did you swipe this from Francis?" Molly asked, a flicker of concern in her eyes as she pushed the card back across the table. "I don't want it! Take it back. Don't go bending over backward for me."
Harper shook her head. "Nah, this cash ain't from him. Sold that painting I did back in college."
"You sold that painting?" Molly's surprise echoed even louder than Harper's revelation. The artwork was a tribute to Harper's late mother, a labor of love she had meticulously created over months.
Back in the day, Molly shared a snippet on socials. Next thing she knew, a buyer slid into her DMs, eager to seal the deal and meet the artist in person.
She had asked Harper for her opinion, and Harper didn't want to sell it, so she eventually scrapped the sale post
She had never expected Harper to sell her painting like that.
Molly objected, "I can't take this cash. Get that painting back."
Harper shrugged. "Too late now. Sold it on some sketchy site where our deets are on lockdown. No turning back."
When Molly posted the painting years ago, the buyer had offered three million dollars. Now the offer shot up to a staggering five million, attracting a bidding war between two heavy-hitting buyers.
The mysterious top bidder was hell-bent on a face-to-face too, but Harper shut that down quick. She wasn't about to play games with online strangers. After sealing the deal, she hit the digital delete button, leaving that web hustle behind her.
Molly was still hesitant about accepting the dough, but Harper laid it out plainly, "I flipped my old place, no crib now. Think of this as me buying into your pad. Rent-free from now on!"
Molly shook her head. "Ain't the same. My place isn't worth no five mill, barely scrapes past two."
"Don't diss me like that. We are friends, right?"
Molly knew Harper's resolve was rock solid. If she didn't take the cash, it'd be a gut punch. With tough times ahead, she caved. The money was a lifeline she sorely needed. With Robert's money, she now had a cool ten million to ride out the storm, easing her worries.
Harper's gesture warmed her heart. Family love and a loyal friend were all she needed in this rollercoaster called life.
If Koch Group went belly up, she still had a backup apartment. If the worst happened, she'd ask her parents to pass that property along to Harper to ensure her loved ones weren't left hanging.
Harper probed, "Robert giving you grief lately?"
Molly reassured her, "Nah, all good."
Little did she expect Robert's fragility to surpass her own. As a patient with cancer, she had woken up, but Robert was still unconscious due to a ruptured wound.
As they chatted, Harper bid her friend farewell, heading off to catch her afternoon class.
Later that day, armed with groceries, Harper planned to whip up some hearty soup for Molly before her class the next day.
Stepping out of the elevator, a text from Keith popped up on her screen—a new translation gig on the horizon. The pay wasn't top-dollar, but it was substantial. Keith arranged a material delivery for the next day.
Harper typed back a quick okay, feeling a weight lifting off her shoulders as her study abroad fund edged closer to completion.
Lost in her thoughts, she collided with a solid mass, stepping back to meet the gaze of a towering figure.
Francis stood there, eyes narrowing at the sight of Keith's name on Harper's screen, dark clouds hanging over his expression.
Harper, puzzled, inquired, "What brings you here?"
She thought she had made things clear enough last night, and Francis, a man of pride, wouldn't typically come seeking her out again.
"What? Am I bothering you?"
He said this through gritted teeth, and Harper didn't know what she had done to upset him again.
Since she had already ended things, she decided to stay firm. "Yes, I'm bothered. I thought I spelled it out clearly yesterday, Mr. Getty."
His gaze darkened. "Your rejection—it's because of Keith, isn't it?"
Harper's brow furrowed. "Can we cool it with the baseless accusations?"
Francis scowled. "I saw you all smiles."
Harper contemplated whether Francis caught a glimpse of the text message. She reassured herself – her conversations with Keith were strictly professional, merely friends. Despite clarifying this to Francis in the past, it seemed he never truly believed her.
Nonetheless, given the impossibility of a reconciliation, she brushed off the need for explanations and headed towards the door, unwavering in her decision. "Guess it as you like."
Behind her, Francis's demeanor shifted from charm to determination as he swiftly pivoted her around, pinning her against the door with an abrupt kiss, forceful and unwelcome.
Struggling against his aggressiveness, Harper fought back, her fists connecting with his chest before he seized her hands, anchoring them against his own steady heartbeat.
The intensity of his actions coupled with his overpowering presence left her breathless, disoriented by the kiss. Unable to break free, Harper felt like a trapped bird, weak and vulnerable in the face of Francis's dominance.
It wasn't until her face turned red that Francis mercifully let her go.
But his tone was still harsh as he said, "Catch your breath. I'm not finished."
Harper widened her eyes, panting, unable to believe what she had heard.
She couldn't help but curse, "You bastard!"
Francis pinned her hands against the door again, holding her waist, a sly grin playing on his lips. "You weren't this vocal when you were tipsy. I've been musing, and I can't let you slide by enjoying my company without compensation. There's gotta be a trade-off."
Harper, seething with anger, shot back, "Even if I was intoxicated, didn't you enjoy it?"
He pushed his leg between hers, a reminder in his touch. "You enjoyed it too."
Harper glared at him. "If we both enjoyed it, how does that make it me getting your services for free?"
"If you still have feelings for me, why won't you remarry me?"
Harper realized she had fallen into his verbal trap.
Francis lifted his knee, pressing into her groins, and said in a deep, dark voice, "Come back to me, and I can do even better than that night."
He ignited a fresh wave of crimson on Harper's cheeks. Suppressing her racing pulse, Harper asserted with unwavering resolve, "Not a chance!"
In an instant, Francis's once charming countenance darkened, fixating on her lips. His voice, now rough and tinged with menace, demanded, "Say that one more time?"
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