Chapter 41
Rachel slurred, "I don't know!"
Michael was caught off guard, his eyes widening in surprise.
But when he noticed Rachel's flushed cheeks and glassy eyes, he quickly frowned and yanked his tie from her grip. "Rachel, you're drunk," he said firmly.
"No, I'm totally sober!" Rachel yelled, grabbing his tie again. "You look just like my ex-husband, so you must be a jerk too!"
"But he..." Rachel wobbled, pointing unsteadily. "He couldn't... you know."
Michael's face darkened, his voice turning icy. "Couldn't what?"
"That," Rachel whispered, gesturing vaguely toward his crotch. "I was married to him for six years, and he never even kissed me. Ignoring a beauty like me... don't you think he had some kind of problem?"
Michael laughed, but it was a cold, humorless sound. Their marriage had been a convenience, one she ended. Yet here she was, questioning his manhood.
"Not interested," Rachel mumbled, trying to turn away, her balance shaky. "I need to find a normal guy."
Michael's face turned grim. In one swift motion, he scooped her up by the waist and headed for the elevator, his grip firm. "Rachel, you'll regret saying that," he declared.
Meanwhile, Mandy, who had been sent home by Michael, was trying to cozy up to Chloe Lee and a few others in a Facebook chat group.
It was getting late, and she figured Michael was done with his business. She sent him three quick messages but got no response. Just as she was about to start a video call, a new message popped up from Monica, her informant.
Mandy knew Rachel was at the Moonlight Club celebrating John's birthday, and Michael was there too. She was worried, so she had Monica keep an eye on things.
Monica: [That Rachel is so shameless. She should go to hell, that bitch.]
A sense of dread gnawed at Mandy as she quickly typed: [What did you see? Is Michael with her?]
Monica: [Mandy, brace yourself. Rachel kissed Mr. Smith, and he carried her upstairs. I followed them and saw them go into a room. They haven't come out since.]
Mandy's heart sank, rage and jealousy twisting her features. Her gentle demeanor shattered as she read the words over and over.
She really hated Rachel, wanting to tear her apart. Eight years ago, she had met Michael under the guise of "Zoey," taking Rachel's place. So what? Rachel only saw him as a pen pal and didn't want to get to know him. Therefore, Michael was someone she knew first, someone she loved first—he was her man! It was Rachel's fault for trying to take him away from her!
Monica sent another message: [I think Mr. Smith was seduced by that bitch Rachel and got confused. I'll go knock on the door and wake him up.]
Mandy quickly typed back: [Don't. If Michael finds out you're tailing him, he'll suspect me. I care about him too much, but I don't want to drag you into this.]
Monica: [It's all Rachel's fault, and yet you have to suffer. Mandy, you're too kind-hearted—it makes people sympathize with you.]
Mandy: [It's okay. I trust Michael. I'll wait for him to explain when he gets back. Thanks for tonight. And let's keep this between us, alright?]
She followed the message with a $20,000 transfer.
Monica accepted the money and replied: [No biggie; we're friends. I didn't see anything tonight—I was drunk.]
With Monica's assurance, Mandy exited the chat and dialed a number, her face cast in shadow. "Did you get the stuff from the room?" she asked, her voice deceptively sweet despite her twisted expression.
The reporter said, "Miss Brown. Got it. There's a lot of juicy material, but it'll cost you..."
Mandy cut in coldly, "Money's not an issue. Send me a clip."
Soon, Mandy received an audio clip. After listening to it quietly, her twisted face relaxed a bit. She walked out of the room and sent a text message.
After sending the text, she stood at the top of the stairs.
The carpeted steps looked nice, but the height made Mandy feel a bit scared. Was it worth it to end up in the hospital again?
As she stood there, the thought of Michael and Rachel together upstairs at the club filled her with blinding jealousy. Determined, Mandy hesitated only for a moment before lifting her foot, deliberately missing the next step, and tumbling down.
A servant was about to go upstairs to deliver bird's nest soup to Charlotte. Just as she reached the second floor, she saw Mandy covered in blood and was so scared that she dropped the tray. The servant yelled, "Miss Brown!"
Meanwhile, in a suite upstairs at the Moonlight Club, half an hour later, Rachel lay curled on the bed, her back decorated with clear kiss marks.
Michael, having controlled his desire, tightened his tie and lit a cigarette. Rachel had an uncanny ability to get under his skin, no matter how much he tried to keep his emotions in check.
The divorce day had been bad enough. Now, this.
The bedside phone lit up, breaking his thoughts. The call was from the Brown household. "What's going on?" he answered curtly.
A panicked servant replied, "Mr. Smith, where are you? Miss Brown fell down the stairs and is in the emergency room. Mrs. Brown fainted from crying. Please come to the hospital quickly!"
Michael remained calm. "Stay with Mrs. Brown. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
He dressed quickly, stealing a glance at Rachel's sleeping form. His hand hovered near her face, but he withdrew, instead writing a phone number.
After the divorce, Rachel deleted all his contact information. This was his private number, with very few friends on it, and Rachel had never added it before.
Stepping into the elevator, he missed a man stepping out of another. Covered in a hat and mask, the man scanned the room numbers and fixed his gaze on the suite Michael just left. Swiping a key card, he turned the handle and slipped inside.
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