Chapter 38
Abigail hadn't detected the change in his tone and continued, "Yes. It's partly my fault for inviting her to the side hall. Who knew Dad would wake up from his nap so early—"
Before she could finish, Francis turned on his heel and left with a cold expression.
Abigail watched him head toward the elevator, and the storm brewing in her heart seemed to simmer down slightly.
Good. Not all was lost.
In the underground parking garage, the thermostat in the car was set to maintain a constant temperature, yet Harper felt a bone-chilling cold engulf her.
The image of those two, entwined in an embrace, declaring their true love, felt like a harsh slap across her face.
Two years of marriage ended up like some cruel joke.
Her heart, once offered in devout sincerity, seemed trivial in the eyes of another, trampled without a second thought.
She closed her eyes and rested her head against the window, wanting to think of nothing.
Suddenly, the rear car door opened, and Francis slid in.
"Tired?" He looked at her pale face with concern, reaching out gently.
Harper dodged reflexively.
Francis's hand hung mid-air, his brow lifted slightly in surprise, but he restrained himself and withdrew it.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice going low. "I shouldn't have blamed you for Grandpa's illness."
Harper was a bit taken aback, but just a bit.
Because the proud Francis had never lowered his regal head, especially not to a woman.
Close up, Harper could see his striking profile. Handsome face, nose, lips—there was not an unattractive feature.
His presence was so naturally commanding that his mere sitting seemed bathed in light that demanded attention.
Even though his face was the same one that once held her affection, now it felt both familiar and strange.
Gentle one moment, fierce the next.
She couldn't tell which was really him.
Watching her dazed cute face, Francis's Adam's apple bobbed, and, as he used to, he playfully pinched her nose. "What's on your mind?"
Caught off-guard, Harper couldn't react in time, and his hand was already retreating.
"It doesn't matter," she said flatly.
What Harper meant to say was—
'It doesn't matter what he thought of me anymore.’
'I don't care.'
Francis's gaze was deep and unreadable. "Let me drive you home."
Just as Harper was about to decline, Francis's phone rang.
It was Chloe.
He hesitated but answered the call.
Chloe's distressed sobs could be heard even outside the phone.
"Francis, my head's spinning. It hurts so bad... I feel awful..."
Francis's brow creased, his voice cool. "If you're not feeling well, go see a doctor."
Chloe continued to weep. "Francis, I feel like I'm dying..."
"I've got things to do. Bye for now," Francis said brusquely, hanging up the call.
Harper listened expressionlessly. She didn't feel like his 'things to do' had anything to do with her.
Perhaps he really had other matters.
Upon seeing Harper's stoic face, Francis raised his eyebrow, finding himself almost preferring her fiery temper.
He took her hand and said softly, "Come sit in the front."
Harper was compliant, worn out, and in no mood for pointless arguments.
As she settled into the passenger seat, Francis's phone buzzed again. This time, it was Xenia.
Francis frowned before answering. Xenia's voice was tinged with panic, "Mr. Getty, it's bad. Chloe has fainted!"
Francis's expression grew immediately somber. "I'll be right there."
After ending the call, he glanced at Harper with a hint of guilt. "I need to handle this. The driver will take you home."
"Okay," Harper murmured obediently.
She didn't question or object, being as compliant as before. But Francis sensed something wasn't right. This submission lacked warmth as if she was just going through the motions with a stranger.
His gaze clouded, and he spoke softly, "Wait for me at home tonight. We need to talk."
Harper showed little reaction, but Francis couldn't wait. He hurried away.
As the car moved, Harper leaned her head gently against the window, watching the world blur by. Teardrops, clear as crystal, trickled down the windowpane, a poignant painting of her sorrow.
'Loving him brought me pain... deep, searing pain.’
'But why does the very decision to stop loving him hurt just as much?’
'It's like being torn limb from limb, agony beyond words.'
Soon, the car arrived at the Moou Residence.
Harper got out and watched it drive away before hailing a ride that she'd arranged in advance.
In the Café.
Sitting across from her was none other than Keith.
"Molly mentioned you're looking for a job."
Keith slid a business card across the table with a gentle voice, "This is Nathan from Epoch Studio. Go for an interview tomorrow."
Harper was momentarily stunned.
'Epoch Studio? Is it the famous studio known for catering to A-list celebrities and the elite?'
Holding the card, she hesitated, "Senior, this doesn't seem right."
Though she was eager.
She knew about the studio, where even the lowest qualification was a Ph.D. in design and experience overseas. Their aesthetic and portfolio were indisputable.
"There's nothing inappropriate," Keith reassured her, "I've shown Nathan your college work, and he's quite interested in you."
The thoughtfulness behind Keith's effort made Harper even more embarrassed.
Sensing her reluctance, Keith softly encouraged her, "Don't worry. Nathan won't play favorites just because I recommended you. You'll still need to earn the job on your merit. It's short notice. Can you prepare the drafts by tomorrow?"
"I can do it."
With her last reservation fading away, Harper was eager to try.
She was not one to take shortcuts, but if it was a matter of skill, she was more than willing to give it her all.
Molly's call came in, signaling she was already outside the café where they had planned to meet.
"Senior, I'm sorry, I'll have to treat you another time," Harper said, feeling apologetic.
Keith responded with a warm laugh, "No worries."
He watched Harper get into Molly's car, the smile gradually fading behind his glasses, replaced by a chilling expression that could send shivers down one's spine.
Molly drove them to The Boiling Point Bar. Once there, she snagged a booth for themselves.
At just past seven, the bar remained quiet, anticipating its nightly crowd. Molly ordered a round of drinks, ensuring Harper received a grapefruit juice, knowing she abstained from alcohol.
It had been a while since they last caught up. Molly asked with concern, "How's it going with Francis?"
"Soon," Harper replied. The divorce was imminent. Chloe's relentless calls today were a telltale sign that things were certainly accelerating. If the contestants were working that hard, their split couldn't be far off.
"And you? What have you been up to?" Harper inquired. She had this nagging feeling that Molly had been keeping secrets. Being away from the family business meant she was out of the loop, and with Robert returning, she harbored some concerns for Molly. However, remembering that Robert was about to get married next month, she figured he wouldn't bother Molly anymore.
"Just the same old!" Molly nonchalantly replied after taking a big swig of her drink, skirting the details. She could sense that Harper wasn't happy either and saw no point in doubling down on the misery.
All of a sudden, she grabbed Harper's hand and said loudly, "The dance floor is empty. Let's go dance!"
Harper felt shy. She had hardly set foot in bars, let alone danced in one. If it weren't for Molly's desire to drown her sorrows, she wouldn't even be there.
Still, Molly pulled her onto the dance floor. Despite the sparse crowd, two beautiful girls quickly drew attention. The sound of applause rose from the audience, catching the interest of those in the private room upstairs.
"Is it getting busy this early?" Wesley stepped out to ask the staff.
"There are a couple of beauties, but they're early birds. Had it been later with a full house, these stunners would've lit the place up," the staff member replied.
Wesley, leaning casually on the railing, gazed down with his captivating eyes—what a coincidence.
He knew both women.
Whipping out his phone, he shot a quick video and tossed it into a group chat with the message, "Any takers?"
...
Meanwhile, Francis was still in the hospital room. After receiving two injections from the doctor, Chloe's condition stabilized.
Opening her eyes to see Francis by her side, Chloe clutched his hand desperately, tears in her eyes, "Francis, I thought... I thought you didn't want me anymore!"
Chloe's heart swelled with pride. Francis had come rushing to her side, which meant he must still care about her deeply.
But Francis, thinking back to what Abigail had said that day, frowned and gently withdrew his hand.
Caught off guard, Chloe was left speechless.
Francis spoke in a tone that was far from gentle, slightly cold, "Chloe, this hospital is staffed with the best doctors. If anything like this happens again, make sure Xenia calls for a doctor right away."
Chloe was touched. Francis still cared about her well-being.
With trembling lips, she asked in a pitiful tone, "Francis, since the divorce didn't go through today, will you follow through with it tomorrow?"
She couldn't wait to become his bride.
Francis replied softly, "My grandfather's health isn't good. Harper and I won't be divorcing for the time being."
It was like a bolt from the blue!
The dream Chloe had held onto shattered instantly.
Her voice trembled, "But Francis, didn't we agree to keep this from your grandfather? We can still keep it from him!"
Francis's gaze sharpened, and he stepped forward to confront her, "How do you know about keeping it from my grandfather?"
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