Chapter 33 The Cake Smashed on the Bentley
Four years ago, the Frane and Sivan families were planning a marriage alliance, and Wendy was head over heels for Jackson.
Everyone thought they were a perfect match, but then Lillian's scandalous act of sneaking into Jackson 's bed ruined everything.
Heartbroken, Wendy left the country and stayed away for four years, while Jackson spent those years blaming Lillian.
Now, Lillian was ready to step aside and let Jackson be with Wendy and their child, but Jackson wouldn't let her go.
Jackson's mocking laughter echoed. "Mrs. Frane, you’re so generous and kind! If you knew you were holding me back, you shouldn't have done what you did four years ago!"
Lillian's body shook. "I've told you I regret it!"
"Regret? That depends on whether I forgive you or not. If I don't, your regret means nothing! Be honest and come back to me. I want to see you at the Peace Mansion tonight!"
Jackson hung up. Lillian gripped the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white, as if she wanted to crush it.
‘I won't go back. Jackson has closed one door for me, but there has to be another way,’ Lillian thought.
Lillian had been turned away by several dance schools, and even trying her luck with a couple of opera and dance troupes led nowhere.
As night fell, her foot started bleeding again. She sat on the curb, hungry and exhausted.
A shadow fell over her, and she looked up. The familiar Bentley pulled up under a tree, and Terry stepped out to open the back door.
In the back seat, Jackson sat in a three-piece tailored suit, his long legs crossed. He looked every bit the part of luxury and nobility, perfectly matching the car. Beside him was a large cake box, and on his knee was a red velvet jewelry box.
Jackson's jade-like fingers lightly tapped on the velvet box, waiting for Lillian to get in the car.
Was he trying to make up for missing her birthday, or was this his way of compensating for getting Wendy pregnant?
The cake and gifts were a stark reminder that when Jackson should have been with her, his attention was on Wendy.
In the past, a single glance from Jackson would have made her run to him, ready to forgive. But now, she wasn't willing to make any more concessions.
Lillian stood up slowly and walked down the long street. Her injured foot made her gait awkward, but she never looked back, calm and stubborn.
Terry stood by the car, cautiously speaking up, "Mr. Frane, Mrs. Frane may not have understood your intentions. Should I go and fetch her?"
"No need, drive," Jackson's deep voice was indifferent.
Terry didn't dare say more. He got into the car and started driving away.
As the car slowly passed Lillian on the roadside, Jackson's cold sneer came from behind. "Can't you even drive the car?"
Terry's forehead broke out in sweat as he pressed the gas pedal. Suddenly, a large box was thrown at him from behind.
Jackson instructed, "Go throw it away."
Terry slowed down and turned to see the cake box stuck between the seats, hesitating. "Mr. Frane..."
Jackson leaned back against the seat, his cold eyes glancing at Terry. "She doesn't want it. The stray cats and dogs on the roadside aren't picky eaters."
Terry reluctantly got out of the car and threw the cake box on the roadside.
Just then, Lillian walked over, and Terry quickly whispered, "Mrs. Frane, it's Mr. Frane's intention."
Lillian felt like she was probably just like this cake in Jackson's eyes: gorgeous on the surface, but easily discarded, not worth his attention. She bent down to pick up the cake.
Inside the car, Jackson silently watched, a faint smile appearing at the corner of his sharp lips.
This slight smile grew as he watched Lillian pick up the cake and walk towards him.
Jackson reached out to open the car door for her, but Lillian went straight to the front of the car.
Jackson furrowed his brows slightly, only to see Lillian standing in front of the car, locking eyes with him through the windshield. She raised her eyebrows, smiled, and then lifted the box, smashing the cake on the windshield. The cake smeared the glass, slowly sliding down, blocking Jackson's view.
Lillian raised one knee onto the car hood, leaned forward, dipped her hand in the cream, and started drawing on the glass.
From the back seat, icy glares from Jackson shot towards her, but Lillian just smirked.
Where did Jackson get the confidence that a wave of his hand would make her obediently get into his car?
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