Chapter 342 I Want to Pour Poison into Your Underwear
"Thalia!" The man ground out her name through gritted teeth.
Setting her down on the console table in the entryway, William's clenched jaw contrasted sharply with Thalia's carefree attitude, which only made her look more charming.
She leaned forward slightly, hands propped on either side of the table, legs swinging playfully. She looked both sweet and seductive, like an innocent night-blooming flower just meeting the world for the first time.
"What's wrong with me kissing you? Why are you so angry?"
"William, you're not like this in bed."
Thalia opened her arms and looked at him sweetly. "Hug me!"
"Walk yourself."
"William, I'm going to post on social media and complain about you."
William yanked off his tie and tossed it carelessly onto the chair in the entryway. "Go ahead."
William was actually afraid Thalia would hide their relationship. Her posting on social media would be exactly what he wanted, wouldn't it?
William walked toward the house while taking off his clothes.
Thalia sat in the entryway without moving an inch.
It wasn't until William had removed his clothes and unbuttoned his shirt that he noticed Thalia was still sitting there.
"Not coming down?" William asked.
Thalia replied, "You carry me."
"Get down yourself."
"Then I won't."
William wasn't in a hurry either. He poured himself a glass of water and sat on the sofa, looking at her. "Then just sit there and take root, sprout, grow mushrooms."
Thalia glanced at him. "William, you are heartless."
"Thalia, where are you going to find a guy as warm-hearted as me?"
"How exactly are you warm-hearted?"
"All those limited edition bags in your closet—aren't they proof of my warm heart? What heartless man would spend big money buying you bags?"
"Buying bags makes you warm-hearted?"
"Fine, I can't communicate with you."
"Then call the police!"
William said helplessly, "You want to be a widow after making me die of anger?"
"If you die of anger, I'll smoothly inherit your estate."
"Think it through. I owe hundreds of billions of dollars. Your little inheritance wouldn't even fill a corner. If you make me die of anger, even if the law doesn't make you responsible for the debt, the creditors might not be so kind."
Thalia added, "You want to drag me down with you?"
William finished the last sip of water and called Fallon over. "Keep Thalia company. If she wants to sit, let her sit."
"William, do you know there was once a man who treated his wife badly, then his wife got pregnant, and when the kid was in his teens, he found out it wasn't his?"
"When he got old, because he was clueless and tactless, his wife killed him."
Fallon didn't dare speak.
William was speechless.
"Having a stroke!" Thalia shouted.
William hoisted Thalia up and pressed her into the sofa in the living room. Without thinking, Thalia pressed one hand against his neck and used the other to undo his belt.
Lips and teeth tangled, passion ignited like dry kindling meeting fire.
William followed Thalia's seduction, kneeling on one knee on the sofa as he pulled her into his arms.
Just when things reached their peak, right at the critical moment—
William pressed down on Thalia's shoulder and pulled away.
Thalia stared at him wide-eyed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Meeting."
"William, remember how you treated me today."
...
"The costume test photos are out."
Layla called just as Thalia was thinking about how to get back at William.
Before she could figure it out, Layla's call came through.
"I saw them."
"What do you think?"
"Fine, I have no problem with them. What about you?"
"They work! The director said you need to provide some of the costumes yourself. Take some time to look online—they can't cost more than a hundred dollars each. They need to look cheap!"
"You're making this hard for me. Where am I supposed to find that?"
"Then I'll pick them for you, but don't complain when you're wearing them."
Thalia rolled her eyes. "Fine, I won't say anything."
That evening, when William returned to the bedroom, Thalia was already asleep. The ragdoll cat was sprawled out beside her. The girl wore a silk nightgown, her long wavy hair spread out casually. Gone was her usual sharp, calculating little fox demeanor.
William picked up the cat and tossed it outside, closed the bedroom door, finished washing up, and had just laid down on the bed when he heard Thalia talking in her sleep. "I'm going to pour poison in your underwear."
Listening to her, William inexplicably felt his heart tighten.
...
"Can't even find one living person—what use are you people?" Eileen was furious, showing no patience with the people who came with her.
They were helpless too. After all, Emerald City wasn't their territory.
They couldn't make any big moves.
"Mr. Michael Jimenez is in Emerald City. He got here before us. Should we reach out to him about this?"
"That useless man? How could I rely on him?"
"But..." The person hesitated. Michael wasn't useless at all—they had been the ones suppressing him, not letting him succeed.
But some things were better left unsaid.
Eileen thought for a moment, furious. "Fine, have him come see me."
In the morning, when Michael got the call, Thalia's face flashed through his mind.
Looks like she really wasn't wrong.
"Going?"
"Yeah, she asked for me. Can I not go?"
Across the street stood two seven-star hotels. As Michael walked to the hotel where Eileen was staying, before he even entered, he could hear Eileen on the phone. It was probably the Jimenez family's eldest son—her tone was especially gentle.
Unhurried and measured, displaying her bearing as a wealthy matriarch.
"Grandma..."
Michael interrupted her phone call.
Eileen turned around and saw it was Michael. Her expression turned cold. "Wait for me outside."
"You've been in Emerald City for so long. What have you accomplished?" Eileen asked.
"Grandma, what kind of accomplishments are you referring to?"
"All kinds." Eileen couldn't stand Michael's vague answers. She always felt Michael was like a wild wolf—untamed, seemingly obedient but actually cold-hearted to the bone.
If the Jimenez family fell into his hands, the first thing he'd do would be to completely reshuffle it.
"Nothing," Michael replied.
"Then what are you doing in Emerald City? Doing nothing, playing the Playboy? Your older brother sets such a good example—can't you learn from him?"
"I'll try harder," Michael said, looking at her with lowered eyes and a respectful expression.
Seeing him like this, Eileen nearly choked on her anger.
She held back the urge to tell him to get lost.
Forcing herself to speak, "Stefan was in a car accident. No one knows where he is now."
A normal person, hearing this much, would already know how to respond. But Michael just stared at Eileen, as if waiting for her to finish completely.
He showed no intention of responding.
That look seemed to be asking her: And then?