Chapter 8

In the end, Alice settled on a navy-blue tie from the store across the way. It was pricier than she’d originally planned, but considering how much Anthony Hayes had helped her over the years, she decided it was worth the splurge. Just as she stepped out with the shopping bag in hand, she unexpectedly locked eyes with a pair of cool, unreadable ones. “Mr. Hawthorne.” Edward glanced at her without much emotion. Then his gaze shifted to the bag in her hand. “Found a gift?” Alice offered a polite smile and nodded. To anyone unaware, she looked warm and harmless—a stark contrast to the sharp, assertive woman she’d been moments earlier. Edward’s eyes darkened slightly. He glanced up at the store’s sign and commented blandly, “Not exactly known for quality, are they?” That took the wind out of her a bit. She maintained her flawless professional smile. “I did the best with what I had.” She was nothing like him. Sure, she earned a decent salary, but gifts costing hundreds of thousands? That was Edward’s reality, not hers. Most of her paycheck still went toward supporting her grandfather every month. Edward’s tone was casual. “Didn’t I give you a card?” Hearing that, Alice pulled out the black card from her bag and held it out calmly. “This one’s for a friend. It wouldn’t feel right using your money.” Even though William had told her not to overthink it, the tangled history between her and Edward made everything complicated. Adding money into the mix would only make things more awkward. Edward glanced at the card she held out, then back at her, something unreadable in his expression. Most people never turned down free money from him—especially not cold, hard cash. He couldn’t tell if she was simply principled or just an exceptionally good actress. He didn’t take the card. Instead, his tone remained light. “I need your assistance this afternoon. You’ll be needing the card.” —— An upscale steakhouse in the city. Alice was busy tying balloons in the main hall. Edward had booked out the entire restaurant to surprise his wife with a romantic dinner. William had taken the roses Alice helped select and left to pick her up. The place was empty except for her and Edward—not that he was lifting a finger to help. William was recording the entire pickup process, and as Alice wrestled with balloons, Edward stood nearby, watching the live feed on his phone. She worked nonstop, inflating each balloon and eventually shaping them into an arch leading toward the center of the restaurant. No matter how she tried to rationalize it—calling that night a drunken mistake—the truth remained: she’d slept with someone else’s husband. That guilt made it impossible to imagine looking his wife in the eye. All she could do was finish everything quickly and slip away before she arrived. Just then, William’s voice came through the phone: “Mr. Hawthorne, I’m at her door. About to knock.” Edward sat at the center of the oval dining table, white lights casting a stark glow over him. Under the lighting, the sharp edges of his profile gave him a regal yet distant aura. He stared silently at the video playing on his phone. Meanwhile, William stood in front of Room 1332, arms full of a huge bouquet of roses. He rang the doorbell and waited. Just as he began to think no one was home, the door creaked open. A man appeared—dressed in casual shorts and a sleeveless shirt, hair still dripping wet, a wrench in hand. Water spots dotted his skin and clothes. William was stunned. “Who are you?” Edward, watching the screen, narrowed his eyes. The chill in his expression deepened. Anthony Hayes casually wiped water from his forehead. Noticing the well-dressed man holding flowers at his door, he raised an eyebrow and let out a small scoff. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking that? Who are you, and why are you knocking on my door?” A while back, Alice had mentioned a persistent guy from work who wouldn’t leave her alone. Seeing this now? Perfect timing. He could help her shut this down for good. William suddenly felt the phone in his hand grow heavy. He couldn’t begin to imagine what Edward must be feeling. “Do you live here?” he asked. Anthony spread his arms. “What does it look like?” Edward’s gaze turned frigid. His grip on the phone tightened. “Where’s Emily?” His icy voice came through the earpiece. The chill made William flinch. His expression turned serious as he glanced at the man in front of him. “Where is she?” Yep, definitely one of Alice’s admirers, Anthony thought. She’d always had a knack for attracting trouble, even as a kid. He clicked his tongue inwardly, then smiled faintly at William. “She’s not back yet. Want me to let her know you stopped by?” Suddenly—BANG!—a violent hiss of spraying water came from the bathroom. Anthony swore under his breath and quickly shut the door without another word. Watching from his phone, Edward’s face darkened like a brewing storm. The slammed door on screen only fueled the fury simmering inside him. She really had the nerve to cheat on him. He slammed his phone down. CRASH! Alice, busy shaping balloon decorations, jumped at the sudden sound. She spun around and saw nothing but a shattered phone on the ground—and Edward’s stormy figure striding away, his entire being radiating icy rage. Over the headset, William flinched at the loud crash echoing in his ear. He glanced at the closed door, then at the roses in his hands, and finally let out a long breath. This time, Madam had really crossed a line. Forget that Edward was possessive and ruthless—any man would lose it seeing his wife with another guy like that. Sure, he’d thrown himself into work and hadn’t exactly nurtured their relationship, but Edward had always treated her as his wife. The best clothes, the finest house, a no-limit credit card—he never held back. Yet she never accepted any of it. She never moved into the house, never used the card. Even the seasonal designer outfits in the villa hung untouched. William never imagined things would spiral this far. How could Mrs. Hawthorne do something like that? That guy just now—how could he even compare to Mr. Hawthorne? William couldn’t make sense of it. He picked up the card tucked inside the bouquet, then quietly placed the flowers in front of Room 1332. Just as he got back to the car, his phone rang—it was Alice. She sounded thoroughly confused. “Secretary Brooks, what happened? Mr. Hawthorne just left—he looked furious.” William looked utterly drained. “Don’t ask. Tonight’s dinner is off. Just head home.” After hanging up, Alice had a gut feeling something had gone wrong on Mrs. Hawthorne’s end. She glanced at the nearly finished setup—balloons, flowers, candles… everything looked perfect, yet there was no one left to enjoy it. She felt a little disappointed—but honestly, also relieved. At least she didn’t have to face Mrs. Hawthorne tonight. —— Edward drove back to the office, anger practically radiating off him. Once there, he grabbed his backup phone and made a call. “Hey, Edward,” came the cheerful voice of his grandfather over the line. “So? Is tonight finally the night you bring your wife home?” Edward walked over to the window, his gaze locked on the cityscape from the 33rd floor. His voice was icy. “Grandfather, I want a divorce.” His grandfather let out a sharp sound, clearly displeased. “Have you lost your mind? You haven’t even properly started your marriage, and now you want a divorce?” “I cheated,” Edward said, his lips curling into a cold sneer. “And so did she.” “That’s nonsense!” his grandfather barked. He banged his cane on the floor, his face flushed with anger. “You think slandering her is some kind of joke? After all these years I taught you, for what?” “I know what kind of girl Emily is! She’d never cheat. Are you making this up just to avoid introducing her to me?” Edward kept his gaze lowered, his voice flat. “They’re living together. That’s cheating in my book.” His grandfather wasn’t having it. “There must be some misunderstanding.” “I saw it with my own eyes.” Silence fell. The sound of heavy breathing came through the phone—the old man was clearly furious. After a long pause, he switched topics. “And what about your little ‘mistake’?” Edward didn’t move, his dark eyes unreadable. “It just happened.” A drunk mistake. But still cheating. He wasn’t denying that. He admitted his fault. But what sickened him was how easily Emily seemed to live with hers—as though being married meant nothing to her. “Seeing isn’t always believing. You need to look into this properly,” Mr. Hawthorne said with rare calm. The whole situation was clearly a mess. “And as for your mistake, be a man and own up to it. Sit down with Emily and be straight with her. If she’s willing to forgive you, that’s her decision.” —— Alice arrived home around six, drained and dragging her feet. Just as she was about to walk in, her eyes landed on a large, familiar bouquet of deep red roses sitting by her door…