Chapter 6
Willow POV
The air froze.
Charles reacted strongly. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm so busy with work every day I can barely keep up—how could I possibly cheat!"
I acted jealous. "Then why does Rachel get to be your secretary?"
"So you're jealous." Charles grabbed my hand, hurrying to declare his loyalty. "I can swear to God how much I love you. Think about how much money I've spent on you, how much effort I've invested. Willow, you should trust me."
"Rachel and I grew up together. I only see her as a sister."
A sister you can sleep with? Mockery flashed in my eyes.
Looking at him—this man I'd loved deeply for five years—suddenly everything seemed absurd.
"Fine. Since you say she's just a sister, I won't ask more. But I still want to work."
Charles frowned. "Willow—"
I cut him off. "I'm just informing you. If your company isn't suitable, I'll find work myself."
Charles's face went cold, clearly displeased. "Suit yourself. But if you run into trouble, don't say I didn't warn you."
Over the next few days, I started sending my résumé to top companies in the industry.
My credentials weren't bad—actually excellent. But there was a long gap in my employment history.
Occasionally a company would send an interview invitation, but after learning my identity, they'd find excuses to decline.
I knew Charles was behind it without needing to think.
But I didn't give up. Since top companies wouldn't hire me, I'd lower my sights. With my abilities, I was confident I could take a small company to the industry's top tier.
Finally I received an interview notice.
The interview went smoothly. The interviewer smiled and told me to wait for their call.
I had a good feeling about it.
Halfway home, it suddenly started pouring. I hadn't brought an umbrella. I was soaked, my dress clinging to my body, outlining my curves.
I took shelter under a shop awning, habitually calling Charles.
"Willow? What's wrong?"
He answered immediately, his voice concerned.
I laughed at myself. Habits were terrifying.
Even knowing he'd cheated, when something happened, I still called him first.
My voice was hoarse. "It's pouring. Can you pick me up?"
Charles agreed readily. "Send me your location. Find a place nearby to sit and wait. Don't stay in the rain."
The same gentle reminders as always, as if nothing had changed.
My nose stung. I quietly agreed. "Okay."
But three hours passed. Charles didn't come. The rain didn't stop.
I decisively decided to catch a cab myself.
Waiting for him, soaked, enduring stares—all for one sentence from him. How pathetically stupid.
Suddenly an unfamiliar male voice spoke behind me.
"Miss, alone?"
A man in his thirties. His gaze brazenly assessed me—especially my chest and waist outlined by wet clothes.
"My husband's coming soon," I said coldly, moving aside.
But the man followed.
"In this rain, is your husband really coming?" His smile was sleazy. "How about I give you a ride? My car's right over there."
I ignored him, preparing to leave.
"Don't be so cold." He stepped closer, trying to press against me. "We're both adults. What's wrong with making friends? You look cold. Why don't you warm up in my car first?"
Worse—behind me was a dead-end alley. No escape.
I glanced around. No one. Just me and this creep.
Panic rose in my chest. I felt for the small knife in my bag.
The man grew bolder, grabbing my arm and trying to drag me toward the alley. "Stop pretending. I've seen plenty of women like you. Dressing this provocatively—you're just trying to seduce men—"
"Get off!" I struggled, pulling out the knife.
I was about to stab him when—
"Let her go."
A low voice came through the rain.
I turned my head and saw a tall figure approaching through the downpour.
Black coat, austere features, those deep eyes coldly fixed on the man harassing me, radiating chilling fury.
Sterling.
Seeing him, I inexplicably felt safe.
The man clearly recognized the face that frequently appeared in financial magazines. His legs went weak.
"Mr. Lancaster…" he stammered. "I didn't know this lady was your wife—"
"Get lost."
Sterling said one word. The undeniable authority made the man turn and flee immediately.
He walked toward me. His gaze lingered on my soaked clothes for one second, then looked away.
He removed his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders.
The jacket still held his warmth and that faint scent of fir.
"Thank you…" I said quietly.
This was the second time he'd helped me. Besides thanks, I didn't know how to express my gratitude.
"Blake will take you home." Sterling suddenly stepped back, his tone turning cold.
I was about to say something when Blake had already pulled the car over.
"Ms. Spencer, please get in."
I got in the car. Through the window I saw Sterling's upright figure, obscured by heavy rain. I couldn't make out his expression.
I couldn't help asking Blake, "How did you happen to be here?"
Blake answered formally. "Passing by. We saw you being harassed."
Passing by? What a coincidence.
When we reached my and Charles's villa, I was about to get out when Blake's phone buzzed.
He opened an email, glanced at me, his expression slightly peculiar.
Then he called Sterling.
"Mr. Lancaster, we've identified the woman from that night."
