Chapter 43 Let’s Meet at the Civil Affairs Bureau
With a forceful tug, Jackson pulled her away, casting her onto the plush couch before making a swift exit. His figure swiftly vanished into the entrance's shadows, leaving a void in the room.
Rising from the couch, Wendy clenched her fists in a fit of jealousy, her knuckles turning white as she pounded the couch in frustration. Her heart pounded in rhythm with her fists, echoing the turmoil within her.
Lilian had arrived in Shirley's second-hand Chevrolet, a beacon of her humble lifestyle. As Jackson pursued her, all he caught was a glimpse of the car's taillights streaking across the yard, disappearing into the night.
His body was slick with fever-induced sweat, and as the cold wind swept across his skin, his body swayed unsteadily. He was a picture of vulnerability, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor.
"Sir! What's happened? Allow me to assist you back inside," Terry rushed over, concern etched on his face. His car was discreetly parked in the villa's shadows, and seeing Lilian's arrival had initially brought him relief.
He had set an alarm to rouse him in an hour, a safeguard to ensure Lilian's safety. If she was still present by then, he could leave without any lingering worries tonight.
But it seemed he had overslept, missing a crucial turn of events during his brief slumber. The sight of the usually unflappable Mr. Frane looking so disheveled, his pajamas and slippers missing, left Terry in shock.
Having worked alongside Jackson for eight years, this was the first time Terry had witnessed him in such a state. He had always held the belief that even if the sky were to fall, Mr. Frane would never lose his composure.
Jackson's gaze was icy, his eyes piercing Terry as he asked, "How did Wendy get in here?"
"Ah? Oh, did Miss Sivan arrive?" Terry stammered, only to be met with a stern glare from Jackson.
A cold sweat broke out on Terry's forehead as he admitted, "It's my fault."
Ignoring Terry's offer of assistance, Jackson walked back inside. A few steps away, he slipped on his missing shoe and continued into the mansion, his expression icy. His instructions to Terry were clear and concise, "Call an ambulance and have her taken away."
Upon returning to the bedroom, Jackson found Wendy still pale-faced, weakly leaning against the couch. As he entered, and Wendy realized Lilian was not with him, she breathed a sigh of relief, her voice laced with concern.
"Jackson, have you explained everything to my sister? Do you need me to help..."
Her sentence hung in the air, unfinished, as she caught sight of Jackson's icy stare. Her heart clenched, and she knew it was best to remain silent.
Jackson's expression had returned to its usual state, cold and composed, devoid of any discernible emotion.
"There's no need," he interrupted Wendy curtly. The more he explained, the more convoluted the situation would become.
Rubbing his throbbing temples, he asked, "Who allowed you to come here, and how did you get in?"
"No one let me come. It's because of me that you were hurt. I was worried, so I wanted to come and see you. The door was open when I arrived...
"Sorry, Jackson, I didn't know my sister was here. If I had known, I definitely wouldn't have come! I'll call her now and explain everything."
As Wendy reached for her phone, more scars on her hand became visible. The bruises and swelling were a terrifying sight. Her face was a mirror of her pain and determination as her trembling hand searched for the phone. She was a pitiful sight.
Jackson, not wanting to risk any harm to the unborn child, spoke slowly and solemnly.
"Don't make the call! And also, the injury on my arm wasn't caused by protecting you. Don't come here again in the future. This isn't a place you can come to!"
Wendy's face turned even paler as she looked at Jackson, her heart aching at his injuries.
Jackson coldly turned away and instructed, "Terry, help Miss Sivan downstairs and wait for the ambulance. Don't let anything happen to the baby inside her."
Without waiting for Wendy's response, Terry hurried forward, pulling her up from the couch and dragged her outside.
Jackson retrieved his phone, retreating to the solitude of his study. His fingers danced across the screen, dialing a number he knew all too well.
Meanwhile, Lillian was already two streets away from the grandeur of Peace Mansion. The shrill ring of her phone echoed in the quiet night, a sound she was reluctant to answer. Yet, the persistent ringing continued, a testament to Jackson's determination.
With a sigh of resignation, Lillian answered the call. She didn't wait for Jackson to speak, her voice laced with a bitter sneer. "Jackson, when are you going to sign the divorce papers? I don't want to wait another day! It's not like you to be so indecisive. If Wendy didn't taunt me daily, I would think that you still harbor feelings for me, that you can't bear to let me go."
On the other end of the line, silence stretched out like a chasm. If not for the faint sound of breathing, Lillian would have assumed he had hung up.
"Do you really want a divorce that badly?" His voice, ominous and low, broke the silence just as Lillian was on the brink of hanging up.
"Yes!" she retorted without hesitation. "We didn't marry for love, so let's divorce now. Everyone will be happier, won't they?" Her decision had been made long ago, solidified by the presence of Wendy in their lives. If their lover was already frequenting their home, weren't they simply waiting to be ousted together if they didn't divorce?
"Everyone will be happy? Huh." Jackson's voice, strained through gritted teeth, filled the line after a moment. Lillian braced herself for an outburst, but instead, his voice returned to its usual icy tone.
"Alright, as you wish. Tomorrow at nine o'clock, let's meet at the Civil Affairs Bureau."
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