Chapter 27 Pastimes

Unaware of the newcomer, Firth felt a shiver down his spine as he turned away from the door.

A warm stream followed, and when he reached up to touch the back of his neck, his hand came away with blood.

His face paled instantly, and he shouted in panic, "Secretary, call an ambulance, get some people here, I want to see who today can—"

"Who exactly are you planning to call?" A cold, authoritative voice cut him off.

The man, Wesley, strode in leisurely and stood imposing behind Huang, casting a casual glance at Edward and Eleanor.

As Firth tried to turn around, Wesley grabbed the back of his collar with an unexpectedly strong grip. Despite his scholarly appearance, Wesley was more formidable than any bodyguard, and Firth struggled in vain to see the person who had gripped him, unable to move.

Disgusted by the reek of alcohol, Wesley tossed Firth forcefully onto the ground. Firth's head hit the armrest of the sofa, and the bleeding at the back of his head worsened.

But at that moment, Firth realized that bleeding was the least of his problems compared to the frightening figure who had just entered the room.

He scrambled backward in a panic, turning his head in terror, and in the intense circle of light, he saw a man of dignified and cool composure standing tall, as if he were merely passing by.

However, his dominant presence loomed as if he were surveying ants, instilling a deep chill in Firth. The glimmer of a Green Diamonds ring on the stranger's left thumb indicated a status that made Huang tremble uncontrollably.

"Quinn, Aaron?"

The name ‘Aaron’ represented absolute power. Under the suppression of sheer force, Firth dared not even breathe too loudly.

"You were saying?" Aaron repeated his earlier question with a rare touch of mercy.

Even the slow-witted Firth understood now—Aaron apparently sided with Eleanor.

But as for the exact nature of their relationship, he had no clue.
He knew he was at death's doorstep.

Pallid and struggling, he hauled himself up to shake hands with Aaron. "Aaron, it's all a misunderstanding, a big mistake. For you to stoop to visit this place..."

With a swift kick to the solar plexus, Wesley spat, "You're not worthy!"

Firth tumbled backward, his head spinning. As his vision blurred, he caught sight of Vincent standing behind Aaron.

Fear enveloped him as he trembled, pointing at her, "Director Thompson, say something, please!"

"Mr. Firth, you must be drunk. How could you treat Eleanor like that?"

Vincent, with tears rimming her eyes, rushed to Eleanor's side, concern in her voice, "Eleanor, are you alright?"

Eleanor, only moments ago caught off guard and enveloped by Edward's embrace, now found a bit of strength and said, "Put me down, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Edward sounded worried.

She nodded, and only then did he set her gently on the ground.

"Eleanor, are you truly okay?" Vincent's remorse was palpable.

Eleanor, silent, looked at her, then suddenly raised her hand and slapped Vincent across the face.

With a resounding smack!

The unexpected action took everyone by surprise.

Eleanor, expressionless, raised her hand to slap her again but was stopped midway as her wrist was caught.

It was Aaron who stopped her. A twinge of bitterness rose in her throat as her eyes flickered.

He was protecting that person.

Without looking back, Eleanor yanked her hand away.

Vincent's face turned to the side where she held her cheek, tears streaming down, "Eleanor, why did you do that!"

"Where were you just now?" Eleanor's gaze was icy.

With a quivering voice, Vincent explained, "I stepped out to take a call, then when I came back, the room door wouldn't open. I immediately contacted the Manager, worried there might be trouble, so I called Aaron. Luckily he was nearby and got here in time."

She had been hiding in the corner, waiting for Manager Huang to make his move on Eleanor before calling Aaron.

If Eleanor were assaulted, Aaron would lose interest, right?

But Edward's appearance foiled the plan, and to extract herself, she had to call Aaron earlier than intended.

Cradling the reddened side of her face, Vincent's tears flowed freely, "You've been wronged, and you blame me. I understand. I shouldn't have left you alone in that room, but I never imagined Manager Huang would dare to do this to you."

"No, it's not true!" Firth protested loudly, "Director Thompson, what do you mean? Wasn't it you who said…"
"Mr. Firth!" Vincent released his grip and turned towards him, a fleeting look of warning in her eyes, "It was you who got drunk and misunderstood something. Why are you trying to pin this on me?"

Firth had climbed his way to this position through connections and a hefty sum of money. Everyone called him "Manager Firth," though he was just a deputy manager. The position of the actual manager had been vacant since the previous one was transferred, and Firth, ever so concerned with his image, kept up the pretense.

But when compared to the Thompson family, who were planning a marriage alliance with the Quinns, his status as a deputy manager of a corporate division was insignificant—not even enough to gamble with his life.

Defeated, he slumped to the floor, murmuring, "Yes, yes, I was blinded by desire."

His only hope was Eleanor. "I'm sorry, Miss Patterson. Please forgive me. I didn't do anything wrong, did I? Forgive me, and I'll accept any condition, any amount of money."

Eleanor suppressed her disgust. It was ironic that the same pleas that had just come from his mouth were now laced with such vulgarity. She wouldn't even spare him an extra glance.

Yet, he could only beg Eleanor for mercy.

Vincent was a threat, and he dared not plea to Aaron. Crawling on the floor towards Eleanor, he was kicked over by Wesley, who proclaimed, "This is Miss Quinn. You couldn't afford a hair on her head even if you lost everything you own!"

Firth was stunned. Miss Quinn? But she had said her last name was Patterson!

Then it dawned on him—The Quinns did have an adopted daughter from outside the family line, the late Quinn patriarch's stepdaughter. Even if she was on the fringes of the Quinn family, she was truly Aaron's cousin.

Firth's world went dark, and he collapsed, unable to get up.

Wesley stepped forward to check on him, "Aaron, he's passed out."

Aaron glanced over coldly and headed for the private room's exit.

"I need to use the restroom," Eleanor said to Edward.

Her hair and clothes were disheveled, and her hands stained with soup. She didn't want to walk out of the hotel looking so unkempt.

Edward, feeling it improper to accompany her, waited by the door of the private room. Vincent approached, "Eleanor, let me go with you."

Eleanor ignored her, allowing her to follow.

The restroom door closed behind them.

Eleanor turned on the faucet to wash her hands.

Vincent sniffled, "Eleanor, you've really got the wrong idea about me."
"Stop, can't you let me not puke?" Eleanor turned off the faucet.

"I'm asking you again, where were you just now?"

Vincent replied with urgency, "Didn't I tell you I stepped out to take a call?"

Eleanor let out a mocking laugh, channeling Grayson's tone, "Bullshit!"

Caught off guard by her bluntness, Vincent's face flushed with shame.

"Cut the act, Vincent. I know you did this on purpose. You set me up tonight!"

Vincent no longer wished to pretend. His face shifted expressions within a second, and with a disdainful snort, he shot back, "And what if I did? Got any proof?"

"What do you want from me? To see me ruined?"

"What do I want?" Vincent retorted, stepping closer with a clenched jaw, "Aaron is my fiancé, you know damn well what went down in that locker room. Have you no shame?"

Eleanor stared at her, suspicions confirmed—Vincent was indeed onto something.

Though what happened that day wasn’t her choice, she had felt a twinge of guilt toward Vincent. Now, it was completely gone.

"Why don't you ask Aaron about his shame?"

"Bitch!" Vincent lost it, hurling a tissue roll at her, "You seduce your own cousin, sleep in his bed!"

Eleanor looked down at the tissue roll by her feet, realizing Vincent had hit a painful truth.

She silently readjusted her buttons.

"Lost for words now, eh?" Vincent sneered triumphantly, "Aaron is mine. It's legitimate when he's with me, but you—you're just a plaything he dabbles with in his spare time, forever hidden in the shadows!"

Ignoring Vincent's bravado, Eleanor opened the restroom door and stepped out. Vincent instantly masked her aggression, following with her demure and learned demeanor restored.

They didn't know what had become of Manager Huang. A server was mopping the floor, and the lingering stench of blood made Eleanor feel nauseous.

Aaron stood waiting at the entrance of the private room. "Not leaving yet?"

Vincent quickly caught up, linking her arm through his.

But Aaron didn't move.

"Aaron?" Vincent lifted her gaze to him.

"Eleanor," Aaron suddenly said.