CHAPTER 17: CHAPTER 17: IN THE DARK NIGHT, SHE MAKES ONE’S HEART ACHE WITH LONGING

Just for a moment, Rhys Hawthorne returned to normal, his brow lowered and face expressionless, as he cut open the plastic seal with a sea horse knife.

The next second, the tip stabbed hard into the cork center.

Victoria Monroe wondered if it was her imagination, but he seemed to use excessive force, the veins on the back of his hand bulging and particularly prominent against the white skin.

Clearly a cold figure above all, he now seemed to possess a kind of ambiguous ferocity, especially that veined hand, exuding a tension that stirred the blood.

His long fingers rotated methodically until a light pop sounded, and the cork finally came out.

He hid an unknown emotion in his eyes, looking down at her with a faint tone: "Well, congratulations."

Rhys Hawthorne poured himself wine and poured Victoria Monroe a glass of pure water.

Victoria Monroe smiled slightly, "Didn’t expect you to care about rituals."

"You like children so much, you must be happy." Rhys held the wine glass with his defined hand.

He raised the glass gentlemanly, looking at her, his clear voice slowly saying: "I toast to you, for finally getting your wish."

Mentioning the forbidden topic of children, Victoria Monroe held the glass as if trying to crush it, a hint of heartache flitting past the corners of her mouth.

She clinked glasses with him.

Clink—

The crisp and pleasant sound echoed in her ears.

Victoria Monroe looked at the pure water in the glass, murmured with a bitter smile: "Finally getting my wish, indeed."

She tilted her head back, her red lips against the glass, eyes closed, as two lines of crystalline tears rolled down like pearls, soaking into her soft hair under the light.

She drank water but tasted the bitterness of wine.

Even the tip of her tongue had a faint bitterness.

Rhys Hawthorne’s brows slightly furrowed.

She thought he hadn’t noticed, quickly wiping away the tear stains, pretending to be at ease: "It’s a pity I can’t taste your good wine today, wait until I have no children... you have to make it up to me with a bottle."

"After you give birth, I’ll gift you ten bottles."

After giving birth, huh?

This child would never see the light of day.

She feigned nonchalance: "You promised ten bottles, not a bottle less."

"Okay."

The meal ended, the night deepening.

Victoria Monroe looked out through the living room’s floor-to-ceiling windows, taking in most of Kenton’s night view.

This kind of view is usually only visible from high floors, but this villa stands atop effortlessly, enjoying the city’s panorama.

As a child, she thought those who could afford tall buildings were wealthy. Now she knew that the heavens are beyond what ordinary people can imagine.

A tall figure reflected next to the window, asking: "What are you thinking about?"

"I’m wondering why you agreed to the sequel."

Victoria Monroe turned, her fox-like eyes fixed on the man in front with a shallow expression she couldn’t decipher.

"I looked into you. Apart from the show we worked on, there’s no other news about you. For actors, exposure is crucial, yet you don’t care. That bottle of Romanee-Conti you casually took out just now is worth over two hundred thousand."

Victoria Monroe calmly analyzed, "Where you live is the most expensive area in Kenton. Rhys Hawthorne, you have no interest in acting, so why agree with me?"

As for saying Rhys Hawthorne had ulterior motives towards her, everything about her combined couldn’t buy half of his bottle of wine.

Seek beauty? With his conditions, if he wished, debutantes would break their heads trying to marry him. Does he need her, a married woman?

Victoria Monroe didn’t think of him as a bad person, but she really couldn’t find a reason for him to take on this role.

Rhys Hawthorne took a step forward, his natural pressure making Victoria Monroe instinctively retreat.

Behind her was only the clean and bright floor-to-ceiling window, the glass feeling slightly cool against her back.

He didn’t step closer, maintaining a certain distance.

Even so, Victoria Monroe still felt instinctual discomfort, as if she strayed into unfamiliar territory, causing unease.

His build was tall and straight, possibly two or three centimeters taller than Julian Fordham.

The man’s innate dignified demeanor was obvious, but when he looked at Victoria Monroe, his gaze was calm.

Devoid of the slightest desire.

"What if I say, I just want to finish the scene we never completed with you?"

This answer surprised her; it wasn’t for fame or money.

"Why? If you liked acting, with previous endorsements and scripts, your hands would be full, but you didn’t."

"I have reasons I can’t refuse—"

Victoria Monroe tilted her head up to meet his gaze, craving an answer.

Invisibly, the atmosphere became heavy.

Her fingertips clutched her skirt tightly, her heart seeming to be seized by an invisible hand, making her hold her breath, afraid that the answer would be too heavy to bear.

Rhys Hawthorne’s pale neck hung low, his narrow and deep eyes capturing the fleeting tension and unease on her face.

Long and dense eyelashes cast layered shadows, obscuring the deepness in his eyes, as he spoke lightly, "The guide is my aunt."

Victoria Monroe suddenly understood why a new person parachuted in back then, and specified her to lead.

She thought it was someone from the investors, not realizing that the person behind was the guide, who clearly expressed during the hospital visit that she wanted the original team to finish the sequel.

Knowing this answer, her whole body suddenly relaxed, "I knew you’d agree with me."

After speaking, she bypassed Rhys Hawthorne’s body and left, brushing past his shoulder with a faint and beautiful fragrance.

Rhys Hawthorne felt a cat scratch inside him, leaving him restless.

"Otherwise, what did you think was the reason?"

Victoria Monroe’s body stiffened with her back to him, and when she turned around, she was all smiles, "What else? Naturally, afraid you’d want money. But seeing you live here, I’m not worried anymore. It’s getting late, I should head back."

"I’ll send you off."

Victoria Monroe waved her hand, "No need, don’t drink and drive, I’ll go back myself."

How could she trouble him again?

Rhys Hawthorne picked up his phone, placing it to his ear and said to her, "Wait ten minutes."

Not waiting for her to refuse, the person on the other end of the phone connected, and he just said one sentence for the person to come over.

This person, frighteningly indifferent, and frighteningly imposing.

With ten minutes left, she sat cross-legged on the carpet, looking at the scenery outside, very beautiful, very high, with a feeling of a god overlooking the world.

The glass window reflected the figures of two people, one standing and one sitting.

"Rhys Hawthorne, do you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

She murmured softly, "Then living alone in such a high place, don’t you feel lonely?"

Rhys Hawthorne’s indifferent eyes gazed at the small figure reflected on the glass, a fleeting meaningfulness in his eyes, "Not anymore."

Soon, Assistant Woods appeared at the door.

Victoria Monroe said, "Sorry for troubling you again."

Rhys Hawthorne answered calmly, "There’s no reason for a pregnant woman to go home alone at my place, besides, you don’t need to be so courteous with me, just like before."

Four years ago.

The first time he arrived on set, he saw a woman wrapped in a black down jacket lying on a Taishi chair, a spread-open book covering her face.

That book, he still remembered vividly, titled "How to Make Your Husband Spoil You Forever."

The woman exposed only her pointed chin, her skin astonishingly white.

The assistant beside her reminded her, she removed the book, like a cat, lazily eyeing him up and down, her voice lazy, "Oh, it’s you, kid."

Just then, the scene staff called for her to act, the woman took off her long down jacket, revealing a flowing costume underneath, casually tossing the down jacket into his arms.

"Kid, watch and learn well, big sister will only teach once."

Back then, Victoria Monroe was confident and bright, with a touch of rogue charm that ordinary women didn’t have, especially in that snowy fight scene.

Clearly so afraid of the cold, but once she acted, she completely transformed, radiating an irresistible glow all over.

Later interactions, every time she played against him, she would pull him to rehearse in advance, never questioning his identity.

Occasionally, she’d swipe snacks other women pushed on him like a mouse, while she looked up, stuffing them in her mouth, cheeks puffed, making a "crunch crunch" noise.

Not forgetting to glare at him, "What’s there to see? Teacher eats your two bags of chips as tutoring fees."

She was carefree, arrogant, devilish, and a bit shameless.

Entirely different from now, even when she smiled occasionally, it was a forced, bitter smile.

Victoria Monroe nodded, "Okay, then I’ll write off the meal I owe you."

Rhys Hawthorne, "..."

He watched her leave, the car engine starting, carrying her away from sight.

Rhys Hawthorne closed the door and returned to the dining room, those dishes she used to enjoy had only been tasted briefly, she drank soup and ate a bit of rice.

There remained half a glass of pure water, the edge of the glass shimmering in the light with a cold gleam.

A distinctly jointed hand held the glass, tilting his neck back to drink the remaining water in one gulp.

After freshening up, he returned to bed, the cold satin still retaining a faint scent belonging to her.

This scent, in the dark, was as enticing as roses.