Beckett added him on WhatsApp, putting on airs as he transferred ten grand over, thinking he couldn’t be more generous.
The app flagged the large transfer, prompting him to confirm the recipient’s last
name.
“Your surname?”
“Hawksley.”
Beckett typed out “Hawksley,” a flicker of suspicion crossing his mind.
Justin Hawksley?
He scoffed. What a joke–of all the names to pick, the guy had to crib from the Northcrest Hawksleys? The so–called Hawksley heir?
Once the money left his account and the other side accepted it instantly, Beckett smirked, feeling a rush of superiority.
So this was Edith’s new husband? Not even fit to polish his shoes, and apparently so desperate for ten grand he’d trade away his dignity without a second thought.
Curious, Beckett clicked into Justin’s profile.
Only one post.
A screenshot of Edith sending him money, captioned: *Now Mrs. Hawksley is going to take care of me.*
Beckett snorted in contempt. How pathetic do you have to be to brag about living off a woman?
And anyway, Edith’s little two or three thousand a month–who’s that supposed to support?
He shook his head. “Oh, Edith… You’ll never do better than me.”
*
Fresh from the shower, Edith sneezed out of nowhere.
Why did she keep getting the feeling someone was bad–mouthing her behind her back lately?
Meanwhile, Justin forwarded the ten grand he’d just gotten from Beckett straight to
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his assistant.
His assistant stared at the notification, stunned. “Mr. Hawksley, you pay me a salary, you know.”
“It’s for charity,” Justin replied. “Donate it to the children’s fund.”
The assistant was even more bewildered. Ten grand? That was pocket change for Mr. Hawksley. Besides, the Hawksley Group had its own charitable trust for things like
this.
But an assistant had to be adaptable. Mr. Hawksley gave the orders; he just executed them.
Edith emerged from the bathroom, toweling her damp hair. “Justin, who was calling just now?”
Justin smiled, lips pressed into a thin line. “No one important. Just a spam call.”
Edith frowned, muttering, “Seriously? People are still making spam calls this late? Guess the hustle never stops these days.”
Watching her grumble to herself, Justin felt his heart melt.
He got up and wrapped his arms around her slender waist, burying his face in the crook of her neck and breathing her in deeply.
The warm, ticklish sensation made Edith squirm away, giggling. “Hey, that tickles!”
Only after the words left her mouth did she realize how that sounded. Sheepishly, she straightened up and stood still, shoulders hunched like a kitten caught sneaking
treats.
Justin’s heart softened even more. He lifted his head from her neck, bent down, and
kissed her.
That night, the calm was destined to be broken again.
Meanwhile, Beckett was still desperately trying to assert his presence in Justin’s chat window.
“So your name’s Justin? Fine. But did you really have to steal the Hawksley name? If I were you, I’d be embarrassed. It’s only when you compare yourself to the real thing that you see how far you fall short.”
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“Guys like you should just buy some run–down little place and stay there. Why pretend to be high and mighty and buy a house out in the suburbs? Anyone who knows the market can tell you’re just putting on a show. Tricks like that might fool a sheltered girl like Edith, but anyone else would see right through you. She probably thinks you’re loaded.”
“I bet she never imagined she’d have to keep working after marrying you. If she had, she’d have clung to the Vance family and never left.”
The battleground shifted from the bathroom door to the bed.
The mattress dipped under their weight, and from the headboard, Justin’s phone lit up and chimed with message after message.
Annoyed, Justin reached out to silence it.
In the quiet of the bedroom, only their mingled, heavy breathing could be heard.
*
The next morning.
Lauren called, voice bursting with excitement. “Edith! You’ve gone viral online!”
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.