CHAPTER 41: CHAPTER 41: VICTORIA, BE GOOD

Julian Fordham was still dressed smartly, but the panic on his face was unmistakable.

Knowing that Rhys Hawthorne had intervened, his connections, financial resources, and background were formidable.

His odds had decreased significantly.

His only hope was with Victoria Monroe; if she decided not to divorce, Rhys Hawthorne would be powerless.

Victoria Monroe said a polite goodbye before getting out of the car, ignoring Julian Fordham as she left.

Julian Fordham glanced at the suit jacket scattered on the back seat. The temperature in the car was suitable for this season; he was already lightly dressed for the dinner and had no need to take off his jacket.

His gaze turned icy, "Mr. Hawthorne, Victoria Monroe is my wife. Please keep your distance from her in the future."

Rhys Hawthorne played with the prayer beads while leaning back in the leather seat, his expression weary and contemptuous.

Even sitting down, while Julian Fordham stood, his presence was overwhelming and sharp—unlike the restrained manner he adopted before Victoria Monroe.

"President Fordham, your words sound laughable. You keep your wife from interacting with other men while you indulge in misconduct outside. Such double standards aren’t good, are they?"

"This is a matter between my wife and me and has nothing to do with Mr. Hawthorne. You are a person of repute and wouldn’t want it known that you’re interfering in someone else’s marriage, would you?"

The Hawthorne Family had been rooted in Portoros for centuries, not only as an official family but also a literate one—a rare, prestigious lineage of nobility.

Let alone marrying a twice-divorced actress; even dating would not be permitted by the Hawthorne Family.

Especially since Victoria Monroe was not yet divorced. If the elders of the Hawthorne Family found out, Rhys Hawthorne would be in serious trouble.

Rhys Hawthorne glanced at Julian Fordham, "President Fordham, wouldn’t resort to childish tactics, complaining to the family elders? Or..."

His thin lips slowly curled into a ruthless smile, "President Fordham lacks confidence in your eighteen-year relationship and three-year marriage?"

Rhys Hawthorne’s words directly struck Julian Fordham’s heart, and he glanced at the visible veins on Julian Fordham’s hand due to anger, with a hint of threat in his tone:

"Julian Fordham, so far, I have no intention of interfering in your marriage. If Ms. Monroe chooses to maintain this union, I will respect it. But if she insists on divorce, I will support her to the end!"

"But if you keep forcing her into things she doesn’t want, even if it means bearing a bad reputation, I will use my means to ensure she completely leaves you."

After speaking, without waiting for Julian Fordham to respond, he closed the car door and quietly instructed, "Drive."

"Yes, Third Master."

Leaving Julian Fordham standing under the streetlamp, his eyes downcast, with thoughts unknowable.

After a moment of silence, he turned around and went back inside.

As long as Victoria Monroe turned back, he would still have a chance; he had to explain things to her clearly.

The woman’s high heels scattered messily at the entrance were just like before. The living room was empty; she must be in the bedroom.

Arriving outside the door, he found it had already been locked.

His eyes dimmed. Since when did Victoria Monroe begin to guard against him?

Unfortunately, he had the spare key in his possession, allowing him to enter easily.

Victoria Monroe sat at the dressing table, removing her earrings, ready to return them tomorrow. Seeing Julian Fordham suddenly entering, she furrowed her brow slightly, "Didn’t you say the spare key was missing?"

Julian Fordham walked briskly, "Honey, that’s not important. Listen to my explanation. Tonight, Rachel Hayes wasn’t brought by me; I’m signing a contract with Willis tomorrow, and after signing, I’ll take you on a trip..."

He sharply smelled the sandalwood scent on Victoria Monroe, becoming more apparent the closer he got.

If the two weren’t very close, they wouldn’t have caught such a strong scent.

His voice abruptly stopped, and thinking about the suit jacket placed in the back seat, Julian Fordham’s expression slightly changed.

Victoria Monroe had initially ignored him, but hearing his voice abruptly stop, she glanced up to see Julian Fordham’s deep, shadowy eyes reflected in the polished mirror.

He exuded an extremely cold aura as he walked toward Victoria Monroe.

This version of Julian Fordham was frightening to her; she wanted to speak but felt as if her throat was being choked in the suffocating atmosphere.

The man walked to her side, fingers resting on the chair back, and his overwhelming oppressive aura engulfed her.

Julian Fordham coldly spoke, "Victoria, what did you do in the car with Rhys Hawthorne?"

Earlier in the bathroom, he accused her of clinging to Rhys Hawthorne, insulting her with such terminology wasn’t enough; now, he intensified it, infuriating Victoria Monroe.

She suddenly stood up, considerably shorter than Julian Fordham in her flat slippers.

"Julian Fordham, you cheated, so how dare you suspect me and Rhys Hawthorne?"

She wanted to distance herself from the man, but Julian Fordham unexpectedly grabbed her waist, pulling her harshly into his embrace.

He slowly leaned down, smelling the scent on her neck.

It wasn’t the fragrance of roses; it was entirely saturated with Rhys Hawthorne’s scent.

His pupils gradually lost focus, and all reason faded.

His voice was cold and biting, "Victoria, has Rhys Hawthorne kissed you like this?"

Victoria Monroe’s eyes widened in shock, unable to believe these were the words of her husband, who loved her fiercely.

He carried a faint scent of alcohol; it was unclear how much he’d consumed, but his gaze wasn’t clear.

She wasn’t inclined to explain to a drunkard, "If you’re going to get drunk, go outside. It’s late, I need to rest."

Julian Fordham wasn’t quite himself tonight, probably because she chose Rhys Hawthorne’s car and coupled with his drinking, Victoria Monroe decided not to engage him directly.

She planned to escape to the bathroom to avoid Julian Fordham, but it felt like his oppressive presence still lingered around her waist.

Victoria Monroe could even feel his gaze on her, so intense and fiery as if it was piercing her flesh and soul.

She couldn’t help but quicken her pace, and just as she was about to close the door, a defined hand wedged itself at the edge.

Victoria’s heart gave a sudden jolt.

She almost slammed the door on his hand.

But the man was fearless, he applied force gradually, and the gap in the door grew larger.

Victoria saw those eyes, faintly tinged with red behind the door, and she instinctively felt uneasy.

They had been together for years, and he had never hurt her, leaving Victoria completely defenseless against him.

After all, in the past, that man loved her so much that even the slightest injury to her would cause him great distress.

Who would guard against their own husband?

But at this moment, instinctively, Victoria felt uneasy, wanting to avoid Julian Fordham as soon as possible.

A chilly glint flickered across her brows and eyes: "Get out! I said I want to take a bath."

The strength disparity between men and women was significant; once Julian Fordham exerted a bit, she was forced to yield.

The door opened, and as Victoria lost her balance, she fell forward, right into Julian Fordham’s arms.

The man casually shut the door, and Victoria met his eyes that were deep within, filled with a fierce possessiveness.

She wanted to push him away, but he held her even tighter.

"Victoria, why are you pushing me away?"

His large hand grasped her slender waist, and the burning warmth seeped through the evening dress into her body.

In the past, the two had countless intimate encounters, any one of them was more daring than now.

But now she was only left with instinctive fear.

Perhaps she feared he would go mad and harm the child inside her.

Her body trembled slightly, yet the man held her shoulders firmly, Julian Fordham’s voice was indifferent: "What is it? Are you cold?"

His hands were sizable, easily enveloping her rounded, delicate shoulders.

With no fabric between them, his palm pressed against her skin, and she could clearly feel the calluses on it.

He had none of his past tenderness, with a heavy hand, almost pressuring her.

"Or... are you afraid of me?"

Julian Fordham released her shoulders, and before Victoria could take a breath, he lifted her chin the next second, his thumb lightly rubbing her tender skin.

Absent was the past tenderness, replaced by an inexplicable humiliation.

"Victoria, I’m your husband, why are you looking at me with such an expression?"

Victoria swallowed, and spoke again: "I’m scared you’ll go on a drunken rampage! Julian Fordham, you know I can’t stay up late, so don’t waste time, I’ll sleep after freshening up."

The man chuckled lowly, the tremor from his chest distinctly transmitted.

His voice was seductive, yet the laughter seemed exceptionally ironic.

"But Victoria, you haven’t told me whether he touched you or not? What exactly happened in the car?"

Victoria took a deep breath, it seemed he wouldn’t let her off until this was clarified.

She licked her lips and explained helplessly: "No, he just drove me home, nothing happened between us."

Of course, except for when she bent down to avoid the paparazzi.

Though neither did anything excessive, she merely held onto his shirt, not even touching his skin.

Rhys Hawthorne had always been a gentleman to her.

When she spoke, a hint of guilt flickered in her eyes.

Julian Fordham’s kiss fell on her eyelid, "Victoria, you’re starting to lie to me for that man."

"So you must have done something in the car, right?"

Not a question, but certainty!

She collided with his deep, dark eyes, cold and somber like a winter night, leaving her limbs freezing at just a glance.

"No, nothing happened, you’re mistaken..."

He pressed harder, confining her to the front of the sink, hands braced on its sides in a possessive posture.

Julian Fordham faced those frightened and chaotic eyes, he leaned down, pressing against her, his heated body against hers.

He bent slightly, speaking softly, directly into Victoria Monroe’s eyes: "Victoria, have I not told you before that disobedience results in punishment?"

Victoria pressed against his chest, swallowed nervously, and asked anxiously: "Julian Fordham, what do you intend to do?"

The man’s hand caressed her delicate cheek, voice gentle, though he was smiling, the smile was disturbingly twisted: "Victoria, don’t be scared, I’m just going to clean you up..."