Chapter 509 Delusion is a Disease
"I get it, Francis. I swear I won't screw up like that again," Audrey muttered.
Audrey decided to back off while she still could, not wanting to piss off Francis any more. Why was she so hell-bent on getting the Getty family to accept this kid? Because she kept claiming the kid was Francis's, and she couldn't stand the thought of losing face. Didn't matter whose kid it actually was, as long as it had the Getty name, it was already worth something. As for Francis using Audrey, she saw it as a two-way street.
How did Audrey manage to come out clean after all the crap she'd been through? She played her cards right and covered her tracks. Whether it was the Chloe mess or the Abigail drama, who cared if people suspected Audrey? No one had any proof she did it. Even if Abigail woke up now, there was no evidence pointing to her. No evidence, no crime. Audrey was in the clear, and no one could touch her.
After Francis left, Audrey brushed off her hands and got her swagger back. But as she walked, a sharp pain shot through her toes, almost making her curse out loud.
Over the next couple of days, Harper took care of most of the work. With Francis back, a lot of tough issues got sorted out easily.
There was some good news too: Abigail had woken up. She couldn't talk yet, but waking up was a big first step. Harper wanted to visit, but Francis had put a ban on it, still not letting anyone see Abigail.
Harper figured Francis had his reasons. But since that day at the restaurant, Harper hadn't heard a peep from Francis. She figured it was time to make a move.
It was clear Francis wanted to keep his distance, and waiting for him to reach out was a lost cause. But Harper wasn't about to just sit around. Happiness was something she had to chase herself.
Harper found out Francis was going to a business dinner tonight, and she had an invite too. She picked a long evening gown with a high waistline to hide her real waist. Honestly, she didn't need to worry. She was still early in her pregnancy, with a flat belly that was barely noticeable.
On the way, Harper checked the news a few times, especially the entertainment stuff. Even though Audrey was in touch with Francis, nothing new had happened since she forced Abigail to admit the kid was from the Getty family.
Harper always thought Francis wouldn't fall for Audrey. He didn't love her before, and a near-death experience wasn't gonna change that. But if one day Francis did publicly acknowledge it, for whatever reason, Harper would have to let go.
Harper had kids, and now it wasn't just Agnes. She couldn't become a hated mistress, even if it was all a sham.
With the dim lights outside the window, Harper clenched her fists, thinking she had to show Francis she could stick with him through both the good times and the bad.
When she got to the venue, Harper looked around but didn't see Francis. Instead, she spotted a bunch of familiar company execs.
Harper held an alcohol-free drink, telling everyone she toasted with that she couldn't drink because of health reasons. Luckily, everyone knew she was a big shot, so they didn't give her a hard time.
Halfway through, Harper's feet were killing her. She didn't dare sit down and kept glancing at the entrance, hoping to catch a glimpse of Francis. But she waited all night, and Francis never showed.
Harper overheard some chatter and found out that Francis wasn't coming. Instead, he had sent a rep to show face. This rep was a senior exec from the Getty Group, driven here by Victor.
Seeing a familiar face, Harper made a beeline for Victor and called out to him. She cut to the chase, "Victor, where's Francis?"
Victor looked a bit surprised and answered, "At the office."
"So he's free?"
Victor scratched his head, "Not exactly, he's got work at the office too."
"Is he not coming because he knows I'm here?" Harper suddenly asked.
Victor's eyes flickered, and he said, "Why would that be?"
Harper could see through his lie; she wasn't dumb. So, Francis really wasn't coming because he knew she'd be here? Was he avoiding her that much?
Harper's heart ached with that all-too-familiar pain. She forced herself to keep it together and didn't give Victor a hard time. "You go ahead."
Victor, feeling relieved, quickly walked away.
Harper couldn't stand being at the dinner any longer and headed back to her car, feeling dejected. Her heart hurt, her feet hurt, everything hurt. The more she thought about it, the more she felt she had to see Francis tonight, no matter what. With that, she sprang into action.
Before leaving, Harper had the driver get her a glass of wine, which she spilled on herself, and she added a bit of blush to her cheeks. By the time she finished, she looked like a slightly tipsy, confused beauty.
When she arrived at the Getty Group building, she sent the driver away to cut off her own retreat. The driver asked repeatedly, "Ms. Murphy, are you sure you don't want me to wait for you?"
"No need, someone will take me home," Harper said confidently, carrying the takeout from the dinner party as she walked into the underground elevator. After trying the code, she found that the exclusive elevator's password hadn't changed. Watching the elevator slowly ascend, Harper felt a bit nervous, but there was no turning back now.
The building was empty, except for the lights in the CEO's office. Harper stood in front of the door, thinking of something to say that wouldn't be awkward or create a cold atmosphere.
She psyched herself up, then suddenly pushed open the door and shouted, "Surprise!"
The room fell silent. Sitting at the desk was Francis, along with two senior execs, all looking at her with strange expressions.
Harper hadn't expected Francis to actually be busy!
They didn't know Harper, but they could probably guess she was Francis's woman, so they immediately offered to let him handle his business first.
After Francis gave her a cold glance, Harper sheepishly lowered her head and said, "No, you guys go ahead. I'll wait inside."
With that, she carried the takeout and squeezed into the lounge. She had come this far; there was no way she was leaving without some results.
Unexpectedly, Francis's meeting dragged on. It went on so long that Harper started to get drowsy. She had initially sat on the sofa, but gradually, she leaned over and fell asleep on it.
But let's be real, it was a sofa, and she didn't sleep comfortably. Half-asleep, she instinctively cracked her eyes open and saw a tall, slender figure standing in front of her. For a moment, Harper felt like she was dreaming of the past.
She naturally reached out, hooking her arm around Francis's neck, and in a sleepy yet playful tone, she pouted, "Why'd you take so long? I've been waiting for you."
Francis seemed startled by her touch, his hands staying still. Harper nuzzled her head against his chest, the familiar scent giving her a sense of peace.
The next second, an icy voice cut through the air, "Get up."
In an instant, Harper was wide awake! How could she have mistaken reality for a dream?
After a moment of stiffness, Harper remembered why she was here: to patch things up with Francis. And since she was pretending to be drunk, she couldn't waste this chance.
With that thought, Harper's actions got bolder. She wrapped her arms tighter around Francis's neck, speaking in a half-drunken tone, "No, I won't get up, unless..."
Harper hooked her leg around Francis's calf, teasingly saying, "Unless you carry me."
Francis's lips pressed tightly together, staring at her for a long time, his deep eyes like turbulent waters.
Maybe it was the fake alcohol buzz, but Harper felt a surge of impulsiveness. At this moment, her heart was pounding uncontrollably, and she felt as if she were truly drunk. Otherwise, how could Francis, who haunted her dreams and thoughts, be standing here now?
How long had it been since Harper felt his strong, firm chest? How long had it been since she held him properly? At this moment, she was almost tearfully grateful to God for bringing Francis back. Even with setbacks, she was thankful because he was truly alive.
"Francis, thank you for coming back."
Harper wanted to hold him and cry, to tell him how much she missed him. But Francis's voice was sharp and cold, "Enough with the act, get up."
It was like a bucket of ice water splashed on Harper's face. Her arms stiffened for a few seconds before dropping straight down.
"The Getty Group is not a place you can just waltz into. Please, Ms. Murphy, don't come in uninvited next time." Francis's deep eyes slowly scanned her, his unique sense of oppression making Harper feel inexplicably pressured.
His tone was cruel and unfeeling as he continued, "Including this lounge, understand?"
A whole day's exhaustion, only to be met with Francis's ruthlessness, made Harper suddenly feel a wave of grievance. She defiantly raised her head to meet his gaze, "You once said I could come and go as I pleased, including this lounge."
"That was then." Francis stood up straight, chuckling lightly, "Do you really take everything a man says in the heat of the moment seriously, Ms. Murphy?"
"Francis, you're saying all this just to drive me away." Harper's eyes fell on the cold and indifferent Francis, and she said, "I won't be driven away by you."
"To drive you away?" Francis's cold eyes swept over her, "Ms. Murphy, you overestimate yourself..."
Francis's cold lips were suddenly captured by a warm, soft touch.
Harper almost instantly developed a rebellious mindset. He resisted her, but did his body resist her too? She suddenly hooked her arm around Francis's neck, pulling him down, and lifted her face to kiss him deeply.
Francis's lips were cold, without any warmth. Harper mimicked his previous actions, using her tongue to pry open his lips. He refused to open his mouth, so Harper bit him, nibbling without any method.
Until the taste of blood spread in their mouths, Francis suddenly realized and pushed her away forcefully.
Francis's lips were tinged with blood, no longer as cold as before, but rather enticing. Harper met his gaze without fear, not backing down at all.
"Francis, you gave me thirty seconds without pushing me away," Harper said. "Can you honestly say you don't have feelings for me now? That you hate me?"
Someone who truly hated another couldn't stand even three seconds! How could he tolerate being touched by her if he truly hated her?
Francis pressed his lips together, remaining silent.
Harper clenched her fists, as if giving herself courage, "I don't know what difficulties you're facing, but isn't pushing me away too arbitrary? Why do you think I need your protection? We've been through so much, more than most people could ever endure in a lifetime. Our resolve should be stronger than anyone's. Don't make assumptions; I can handle anything."
Ignoring the cold expression on Francis's face, Harper grabbed his hand. "Francis, we've crossed the line between life and death. What else can't we overcome?"
Francis's usually expressionless face showed a hint of emotion at her words, but it was a mocking, cold look. He narrowed his deep eyes, "Ms. Murphy, you should at least have some dignity. How can you throw it away like this?"
These words were harsh for Harper. Those who knew her understood that she appeared carefree but valued her dignity deeply. If it weren't Francis, she would have walked away long ago. But thinking of him driving a car filled with explosives, his determined expression, Harper felt she couldn't leave; she had a responsibility!
She tightened her grip, her expression resolute, "I came here prepared to be humiliated by your words. You can fool others, but you can't fool me."
Francis chuckled, his dark eyes like a thick, impenetrable night, both deep and arrogant.
"A man not loving a woman is a simple matter, Ms. Murphy. Why do you need me to give you a reason?" His voice was calm and unhurried, as if he could easily see through the other person's facade, "How do you want me to lie to you? Why don't you just tell me?"
Harper's hands trembled as she let go of him, "Francis, can't you tell me the truth?"
She wanted to convince herself that her persistence was right.
"I've already told you the truth." Francis's voice was slow and clear, shattering Harper's hopes, "But you can only accept the truth you believe in. So keep deceiving yourself."
Francis picked up the suit that had fallen by the sofa, slowly putting it on. As he turned to leave, he suddenly looked back at her. "And delusion is a disease. I suggest you find a good psychologist, Ms. Murphy."
Harper's face turned pale, her heart feeling like it was being torn apart, the pain seeping into her bones. Francis was leaving because she was here. He didn't even want his own office.
Harper clenched her fists, unable to resist asking, "If it's such a shallow feeling, why did you unhesitatingly take my place in that car filled with explosives?"
Francis paused, his back still turned to her. "Because I owed you," he said quietly, almost too quietly to hear. "And now, we're even."
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