Chapter 80 Thanksgiving Service
Meanwhile, in another private room.
Ben was listening to the phone when his face instantly turned pale.
His legs gave way, and he grabbed the table for support, nearly losing his balance.
The phone slipped from his hand and fell onto the carpet.
Everyone at the table froze and turned to look at him.
"What's the matter? Can't we just have a decent meal during the holidays?" Chloe asked impatiently.
"The company... something's happened..." Ben stammared.
Everyone froze.
Ben recalled what Liam had said earlier in the hallway: "It's getting dark; time to wrap things up!"
He is trying to drive me to my death!
His head buzzed, and he felt dizzy, and his whole body collapsed to the floor.
The private room instantly descended into chaos.
Watching Ben lying on the floor, Chloe clutched her lower abdomen while gritting his teeth.
A pool of bright red blood was soaking through her dress — she was having a miscarriage.
The waiter who had just entered was stunned by the scene and immediately urged those nearby to call the emergency number.
Liam and Emma, who had just returned from the restroom, witnessed this.
Liam wrapped his arm around Emma's shoulder, tightening his grip slightly.
Emma wasn't quite sure what had happened.
She looked up at him, confused.
He looked down at her, his eyes glittering with triumph.
Emma suddenly understood it was Liam who had done it.
"Is that illegal?" she asked.
"Yes, it was," he replied.
"Then you…"
"Sweetheart, he's the one who broke the law."
Emma sighed in relief. "Well done."
——
On the top floor of the estate.
A maid brought up two cups of coffee.
Liam and Emma snuggled close together.
Outside the window, the lights of the town across the lake blended with the stars.
Warm light filtered through the clean glass, casting a serene glow throughout the room.
"Happy Thanksgiving, Emma."
"Happy Thanksgiving, Liam."
Liam lowered his head and kissed her.
She rested her head on his chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
He took her hand and tucked it inside his shirt, resting it on his well-defined abs.
"Feel this..."
She was momentarily at a loss for words.
Liam held her close, gently kneading the flesh at her waist.
"Liam," she asked cautiously, "did you have someone beat up Steven?"
"No." He frowned.
"I heard about Steven, but I really didn't do it..." he said.
"I believe you," she interrupted softly.
"You believe everything I say?" he asked, pinching her cheeks.
"Yes, I do." She snuggled closer into his embrace.
"I don't do anything illegal," he said softly, patting her back.
Emma lifted her head, propped her elbows on either side of him, and looked down at him.
"Is there anything else you're hiding from me?" she asked.
"How could I dare hide anything from you? Hmm?" Liam tightened his grip on her waist.
"Do you remember that Muse?" Emma gently traced his eyebrow.
"Muse? Of course I remember." He furrowed his brow slightly.
"Bringing up someone else at a time like this—isn't that ruining the mood?"
His long fingers slipped inside her before she could react.
“I… ah…”
A soft moan escaped her lips.
Her face flushed, and her body went limp as she lay against him, breathing heavily.
"Shall we?" he asked.
Playfully punching his chest, she scolded, "Bastard!"
He laughed and tucked her shirt hem back into place.
He then led her downstairs to the bedroom.
The bedroom door closed softly behind them.
Liam gently pressed her against the doorframe and looked down at her.
"Now," he whispered, tracing her cheek with his thumb, "I can really look at you."
He leaned down and kissed her deeply.
The kiss gradually moved to her neck and collarbone.
Emma tilted her head back, her fingers tangling in his thick hair.
As the fabric between them fell, the cool air brushed against her skin.
He guided her slowly towards the bed.
As Emma sank into the soft mattress, he suddenly pinned her beneath him and thrust himself against her in one decisive, breath-stealing movement.
Before she could react, a deep, molten ache unfurled inside her, followed by rhythmic friction and gentle thrusts.
They moved in perfect harmony.
Every deliberate stroke pressed his weight, his heat, and his intent into her—wordless, overwhelming.
Her nails dug into his shoulders. His breath grew harsh against her neck, each thrust coaxing another helpless sound from her lips. The pace built, not frantic but devastating — the kind of rhythm that demanded her whole body answer his.
"Liam—" Her voice fractured.
"Look at me."
His command was low, rough, possessive.
She did — and the moment their eyes locked, the pleasure surged and pulled them under together, her body tightening around him as he groaned against her mouth.
The climax hit in a rush that left her shaking, clinging to him as though he were the only solid thing in the world.
He stayed inside her, breathing hard, refusing to let go until her trembling eased.
And even then, he only rolled them into the blankets and held her tighter — as though sleep might steal her from him if he loosened his arms.