NOVPUB
Chapter 60 - 60- Are you jealous?
Jim responded with his usual professionalism and respect.
As Albert held Cynthia close and was about to walk away, he seemed to remember something and instructed Jim once more.
"Oh, and make sure to tell them this: we're doing great, and we're very happy."
Then Cynthia heard the sound of his knuckles cracking, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vincent's hands clenching tightly at his sides.
A wave of anger washed over her as she resented the man holding her. He was so malicious, deliberately digging into Vincent's wounds, knowing full well the grief he was enduring over the loss of his child. It was a cruel move, pouring salt into an open wound.
The car finally pulled away, and through the rearview mirror, Cynthia saw Vincent still standing in the snow, his eyes fixed on their departing car, watching them until they became a distant speck. She felt an overwhelming silence inside her, unsure of what to do, her emotions locked within.
The car was headed toward her small apartment. Perhaps the air in the car had grown too heavy, or perhaps Albert had intentionally opened the window, but midway through the drive, he lowered it. A rush of cold wind blew in, and Cynthia instinctively pulled her coat tighter around herself, shivering from the chill.
Albert glanced at her, noticing her discomfort, but he made no move to adjust the window. He seemed to want her to feel the cold, to remind her of her place, as if he were saying that she should stop allowing herself to feel any empathy for another man, especially when she was under his control. He thought back to her vulnerability in his arms, the way she had shivered, and it irked him.
One hand still on the wheel, he grabbed a cigarette from the pack beside him and lit it, filling the small car with the thick, acrid smell of smoke. Cynthia, unable to hold back, coughed lightly, the smoke choking her.
She shot him an irritated glare, wondering if he had any sense of decency. He could have waited until they stopped to smoke, but instead, he chose to fill the car with that overpowering smell. Even with the window cracked, it was almost unbearable.
No matter how much Cynthia glared or shot him murderous looks to express her displeasure, Albert remained unmoved, deliberately trying to provoke her.
At her wit's end, she made up her mind. With a defiant look, she reached out and, with an audacious tone, said, "Could you spare me a cigarette, too?"
Finally, he reacted. The car swayed slightly as he turned to look at her, his gaze sharp and furious.
"A woman shouldn't smoke!" he snapped. "Do you know how harmful smoking is for women?"
She withdrew her hand, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Mr. Wilson, don't you know that secondhand smoke is even more harmful than actually smoking?"
Her quick retort caught him off guard. He was left momentarily speechless, fumbling for a response, before he finally extinguished the half-smoked cigarette with a sheepish look.
The car stopped in front of her small apartment. Cynthia thanked him and was about to get out, but just as she reached for the door handle, he suddenly grabbed her hand. His mesmerizing eyes glanced toward her apartment before he casually said, "Won't you invite me up for a cup of tea?"
She tried to pull her hand away, but couldn't. Frustration flared within her as she reluctantly sank back into the seat, grumbling, "Sorry, I don't have any tea at home."
What was it with this man? Wasn't he supposed to be busy with work? Shouldn't he be focusing on the pregnant woman in Wilson's life, not wasting time drinking tea? Did he think her home was some kind of tea house?
"Then how about a cup of coffee? The last time, that coffee you made was actually pretty good," he suggested nonchalantly.
Albert didn't give up easily. He released her hand but immediately locked the car door, then leaned back in his seat with a smug smile, clearly enjoying himself.
Cynthia's face held a sweet smile, but inwardly, she gritted her teeth in frustration.
"Sorry, I finished the coffee yesterday. I haven't had time to buy more today," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
The truth was, she had just bought new coffee yesterday, but she simply didn't want to make it for him. So what?
She saw a flicker of hurt in his eyes, and it made her feel a little guilty. After all, he had driven her all the way home on a cold day, saving her from a freezing bus ride.
But then she reminded herself of how unpredictable he was. Who knew what would happen if he came up? So she steeled her resolve. More than anything, she didn't want to get too close to him. She thought their current arrangement was perfect. They'd play along when necessary, but outside of that, it was better to keep their distance—until the Lancaster empire collapsed and they signed the divorce papers.
Yet, Albert seemed completely oblivious to her clear rejection, continuing with his relentless questioning.
"How about a glass of water, then? Surely, you have some plain water?"
Even Cynthia, known for her patience, felt her temper flare. She took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, then turned to him with a cold expression and spoke in an icy tone:
"Mr. Wilson, are you really this free? Don't you need to go to work? Don't you need to go home to take care of that pregnant woman, your precious Wilson?"
For a moment, he was taken aback. His black eyes quickly filled with annoyance and displeasure, his voice a bit gritted as he replied, "Who told you she's pregnant?"
Cynthia sneered. 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙥𝙪𝙗.𝒄𝙤𝙢
"Hearing it from others is never as real as seeing it with your own eyes or hearing it with your own ears."
She had seen him help that woman into the maternity ward and heard the nurse confirm that the woman was pregnant. There was no mistake about it.
Cynthia sat there, caught in a whirlpool of thoughts. According to the timing, that woman's child must be about four or five months along now. In a few months, Albert would be a father. Should she congratulate him? Or perhaps, instead of worrying about whether the Lancaster empire would collapse, she should just propose divorce now, so that he could marry that woman before the baby was born, avoiding the child becoming a "black household" with no proper legal standing.
She felt her stomach churn as the thought lingered.
Albert stared at her for a long time, as if she were some kind of creature from another world, before finally reclining in his seat and speaking softly:
"The test results came back. She's not pregnant. It was just digestive problems. She's always had irregular cycles, and that time, it was delayed by more than half a month. That's why she went for a gynecological checkup."
Cynthia froze. What? Not pregnant? The awkwardness in her situation intensified.
After a moment, she quickly recovered, laughing it off. "I don't care what happened exactly. Mr. Wilson, I'll give you a piece of advice: When you've found someone you love deeply, you should stick to her."
She made a move to open the car door and get out, but Albert pulled her back without hesitation, his dark eyes burning into hers.
"So, what about you? You've found someone you love deeply, haven't you? Why are you still provoking me?"
"What? Who's provoking you? You're the one who started this!" Cynthia shot back, furious. "How did this suddenly become my fault? You're the one who asked me to marry you, not the other way around!"
Albert's lips curled into a smile—one that could captivate anyone who saw it, making everything else pale in comparison. Cynthia's heart skipped a beat, betraying her as her pulse raced.
He leaned closer to her, reaching up to gently touch her hair, inhaling her scent with a teasing grin.
"Are you... jealous?" he asked, his voice dripping with insinuation.
"...!"
Cynthia's face was dark with frustration as she glared at him. She wanted to scream at him, telling him that no matter how many women he made pregnant, it had nothing to do with her! She was perfectly fine, enjoying her food, her sleep, and her life without a care for his antics.
After biting back her anger, she seethed, "Albert Wilson, open the door now!"
He, however, ignored her threat, his smile widening instead. This time, Cynthia felt a strange undercurrent of danger in his grin.
He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered, "Your hair looks nice."
Just as she was about to thank him, he added, "But it doesn't suit you."
With a swift click, the car door unlocked.
"..."
Cynthia shot him one last furious glare, then threw open the door and stormed out, slamming it shut behind her. She stomped up the stairs toward her apartment, the sound of his laughter echoing behind her, mocking her all the way.
As she climbed, she muttered curses under her breath, wishing the universe would step in and end this maddening situation. "Please, someone—anything—make the Lancaster empire fall apart already so I can get away from this arrogant, self-absorbed man!" She was done with his arrogance, his narcissism, and the constant tension he created in her life.
