Chapter 322 Envy
The next morning, Emma stepped out of her villa, ready to head to the grocery store for some essentials.
But as soon as she hit the street, she was swarmed by reporters and onlookers. George's public declaration of love the night before had caused a citywide frenzy, and Emma's name and photos were plastered all over social media. People pointed at her, whispered among themselves, and some even approached her for selfies.
"Ms. Taylor, were you moved by Mr. Russell's declaration of love?" one reporter asked, shoving a microphone in her face.
"Mr. Russell is no longer the CEO of the Russell Group. Will you still stand by him?" another reporter quickly followed up.
Emma didn't respond. She kept her head down, trying to avoid the cameras, but the reporters only pressed closer. Feeling a wave of irritation, she quickened her pace towards the grocery store, hoping to escape the chaos for a while.
But the store offered no respite. Everyone who recognized her stopped and stared, their eyes filled with envy. Some even approached her with bouquets, wishing her happiness with George.
"Ms. Taylor, you're so lucky!" an enthusiastic middle-aged woman exclaimed. "Mr. Russell is so wealthy and loves you so much. You must be over the moon!"
Emma forced a smile as she accepted the flowers, but inside, she felt a heavy weight. The well-wishes and envy only made her feel more suffocated.
These people didn't understand anything!
They only saw the surface-level romance and emotion, but they didn't see the pain she had endured.
But Emma didn't blame them. After all, they were just pawns in George's game.
Emma had thought that if she ignored George, his pride would eventually make him give up.
But ever since that citywide fireworks display of love, George's pursuit had become even more direct and high-profile. He no longer just expressed his feelings publicly; he incorporated his actions into everyday life. He was determined to win Emma's heart with his persistence and love.
Early in the morning, as Emma stepped out of her house, she saw the familiar black luxury car parked at the entrance of her neighborhood. George stood by the car, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, holding a bouquet of fresh roses, his gaze soft as he looked at her.
"Good morning, Emma."
Emma stopped, frowning at him. "George, what do you want?"
"I just want to give you a ride to work," George said with a slight smile, extending the roses towards her. "These are today's flowers. I hope you like them."
Emma didn't take the flowers. Instead, she said coldly, "George, I don't need you to drive me, and I don't need your flowers. Please leave."
George wasn't angry. His smile deepened. "It's okay. I'll wait for you. Until you're willing to accept me."
Emma ignored him and quickly walked to her car. As she drove out of the neighborhood, she could still see George standing there, watching her leave with a look of determination and affection.
When she arrived at Crystal Street Store No. 1, there was already a carefully selected bouquet on her desk and the cash register.
"Ms. Taylor, these are from Mr. Russell," the store clerk said with a smile, handing the flowers to Emma.
Emma looked at the exquisite roses, her brow furrowing slightly. "Throw them away."
"But these flowers are really beautiful, and..." The clerk hesitated. "Mr. Russell put a lot of thought into them."
"I said throw them away," Emma repeated coldly, turning to leave.
Yet, every day, the flowers arrived on time, a symbol of George's persistent love. The store employees began to gossip.
"Oh my gosh, Mr. Russell is so good to Ms. Taylor! He drives her to and from work every day and sends flowers. It's like a dream!"
"Yeah, if someone pursued me like that, I'd be moved in no time."
"Ms. Taylor is so cold. If it were me, I'd have said yes already!"
Emma heard these comments, but they only made her more frustrated.
Why did George have to pressure her like this? Why did everyone think she should be moved, and no one understood her resistance?
No matter how cold or rejecting Emma was, George never gave up. He appeared in her life every day, expressing his love in his own way.
After work, Emma tried to avoid George by leaving an hour early. However, when she stepped out of the store, she still saw George's car parked nearby. He stood by the car, holding another bouquet of roses, as if he had anticipated her early departure.
George approached, "Emma, I'm here to take you home."
Emma stopped, her eyes reflecting her frustration with George's persistence. "George, how long are you going to keep this up?"
"Until you accept me," George replied with unwavering certainty.
"I will never accept you," Emma's voice was as cold. "George, your actions only make me despise you more."
A flicker of pain crossed George's face, but he quickly regained his composure. "It's okay. I can wait. I believe that one day you'll see my sincerity."
Emma didn't respond and walked away quickly. But her retreating figure only made George's gaze more intense. He knew her resistance wasn't because she didn't love him, but because of past hurts. He believed that if he persisted, he would eventually win her over.
He remembered the conversation he had with Charles that day.
He had waited outside for a long time before Charles agreed to see him.
In the grand, austere hall of the Russell Mansion, the atmosphere was so oppressive it was hard to breathe. Charles sat at the head of the room, gripping an ornate cane, his face stern, his gaze sharp as a knife as he looked at George.
"If you're here about the Russell Group, you can leave now."
George stood straight, his head bowed, like a child who had done something wrong. His face showed no sign of rebuttal, only silence and endurance.
"No, Grandpa. I'm not here for the Russell Group. I'm here for Emma."
"You dare mention Emma!" Charles's hand shook with anger, and he threw the coffee cup he was holding at George. The cup, still filled with hot cappuccino, grazed George's cheek and shattered on the floor, the cappuccino soaking George's clothes.
Even through his clothes, George could feel the heat of the cappuccino, burning like flames on his skin. But this heat was nothing compared to the fury in Charles's eyes.
"Do you think staying silent will make this go away?" Charles's voice thundered through the hall. "Do you know what you've done?"
George pressed his lips together, saying nothing.
"Emma is such a good girl, gentle, kind, and sensible. You're truly fortunate to have her as your wife! And what did you do? You neglected her, hurt her, drove her to fake her own death to escape the Russell family! Are you even a man? George, don't forget, it was you who had a relationship with Emma first. But after marrying her, you started to torment and abuse her! Do you think you deserve Emma?"
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