Chapter 7
Willow POV
Blake found out it was me?
My heart plummeted. I could already imagine my terrible fate.
The Lancaster family had only started legitimate business in the past century. Before that, they were a gang so powerful even the government was wary. Even after going straight, their underworld influence remained, now under Sterling's control.
High society had a saying: You could offend anyone—but cross Sterling, and you wouldn't live to see tomorrow.
I didn't hear the rest because I'd already gotten out. Blake drove away.
"Willow."
Suddenly, a voice I found utterly repulsive spoke up.
Ahead, an impeccably dressed woman approached.
"What a coincidence." Her gaze swept over the men's jacket on my shoulders that obviously wasn't mine, somewhat disdainful. "Looks like your newlywed life is quite 'colorful.'"
My tone was icy, blunt. "What's it to you?"
If there was anyone in this world I despised, it was Gloria Brown.
Once my sister. Now the long-lost heiress of the Brown family.
Since returning to the Brown family, she'd never cared about the Spencer family who'd raised her.
She'd even caused the car accident that killed my father…
My hands clenched. I mocked her. "I heard your work was exposed as plagiarism. You should worry about winning that lawsuit. After all, the family's reputation is what matters most."
"You're still so self-righteous and fake!" Gloria's teeth ground together. "Willow, what gives you the right to lecture me? You think marrying Charles means you've made it?"
"He's just a spoiled rich kid living off family trust funds. He has no say in the Lancaster family. Sterling is the real power."
I looked at her like she was a clown, not wanting to waste time arguing. I turned and left.
She shouted after me, unwilling to let it go. "Just wait. Soon you won't be smiling."
Because of the rain, when I got home I felt dizzy and fell asleep.
A phone ringing woke me.
My head throbbed. I was burning up, consciousness fuzzy.
I fumbled for the phone and answered.
"Charlie, is the water temperature okay?"
A sweet, affected voice came through, the words full of implication.
Rachel.
I snapped awake.
"Rachel, who told you to touch my phone!" Charles's angry voice followed.
His voice carried obvious panic. "Willow, I…"
I didn't want to hear it. I hung up.
Now not only did my head hurt terribly—my heart ached too.
So he'd been with Rachel all along. That's why he hadn't come for me.
The phone rang again.
Charles calling.
He called several times. I didn't answer.
Finally he sent a text. [Willow, I'm sorry. I'm coming home right now.]
I found it laughable.
He always said sorry.
But he never stopped hurting me.
Charles came home quickly, bringing dampness and obvious panic with him.
"Willow! You have a fever?" He reached to touch my forehead.
I jerked my head away.
His hand froze mid-air. He looked hurt. "I didn't mean to leave you waiting. Rachel twisted her ankle, so I…"
"Enough."
I didn't want to hear more lies.
Charles stood. "I'll call the doctor."
The family doctor arrived quickly, examined me, and confirmed it was just a common cold and fever.
Charles stayed by the bed all night, taking meticulous care of me.
I could feel he genuinely cared about me.
But did he love me?
Perhaps. But that didn't stop him from sleeping with another woman.
…
The next day my fever broke. The company I'd interviewed with sent an offer—I'd passed. I could start Monday.
I felt rare joy. I planned to visit Grandma at the hospital and tell her the good news.
But I saw a familiar black Bentley parked by the road.
Gloria got out, her face showing a gentleness I'd never seen.
The next person who emerged left me completely stunned.
Sterling wore a charcoal gray suit, his expression characteristically cold.
He walked into an upscale restaurant. Gloria followed closely behind.
Sterling POV
"Mr. Lancaster, Ms. Spencer has been job hunting recently. Charles made calls—other companies don't dare hire her."
I frowned, my eyes darkening.
When did Charles become such a bastard, using his power to sabotage his own wife?
"Arrange for a small company to interview her. Don't expose her connection to the Lancaster family."
The next day I ran into Willow on the road.
The rain was heavy. I noticed she was soaked through. I hesitated whether to have her get in the car—but what if she was waiting for Charles?
In that brief moment, I saw a man roughly dragging Willow toward an alley.
Nameless fury flooded my chest.
I got out and strode toward them.
"Let her go." My voice was cold as ice.
The man recognized me. His legs went weak.
"Mr. Lancaster…"
"Get lost."
I had no patience for his excuses.
The man fled immediately.
Willow's face was pale, her eyes red, like a rose battered by storm—pitiful.
Worse—her dress was soaked through, clinging to her body, outlining her graceful curves.
Damn. How was Charles taking care of her? He wasn't fulfilling a husband's responsibilities at all.
If I hadn't happened by today—
My gaze lingered on her for one second before I removed my suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
She looked up at me, eyes holding surprise and gratitude. "Thank you…"
I didn't respond. Seeing her still trembling slightly, I realized I might be paying too much attention to Willow.
Shouldn't I hurry and find that night's woman, take responsibility for her?
Willow was Charles's wife. I should keep my distance.
I stepped back, growing colder. "Blake will take you home."
Shortly after Blake left, he called.
"Mr. Lancaster, we've identified the woman from that night."
I opened the file Blake sent.
The name I'd been thinking of didn't appear. Instead—a stranger's name.
Gloria Brown.
