Chapter 44 Helping You Handle Trash
Selena's POV
She stared at the design sketch for a long time.
"Margaret's Will." She murmured the name, and slowly, slowly, the corners of her mouth curved upward.
"Will..."
She repeated it, then lifted her head and glanced in the direction where her grandson had stood before she waved him away.
"He wants to use 'conquest' to put a collar on you, and you respond with 'will.'"
She laughed.
"Good! What a brilliant 'Margaret's Will'!"
She closed the sketchbook and carefully placed it beside her, as if it were some priceless treasure.
Then she put back on the jade bracelet worth a fortune that she'd been wearing on her wrist.
"You're right, child. We never accept gifts we can't repay." She picked up her tea and raised her cup toward me. "This is a gift worth exchanging. I accept it."
She took a sip of tea, then set down the cup and leaned back in the wicker chair, her whole body relaxing.
"Now, can you tell me how you plan to tame that little beast?"
I looked at her, this old lady who had just formed an alliance with me, now turning the question right back at me.
"Mrs. Sterling," I answered calmly, "I never tame beasts. I just turn them into my stepping stones."
She paused, then laughed even more happily.
"Very good. Excellent." She nodded.
She stood up and personally walked me to the door of the greenhouse.
Royce was standing at the end of the hallway. He'd clearly been waiting there the whole time, never leaving.
"Royce," Margaret's voice regained that authority belonging to the family's ruler, "take Selena back. Remember, use the highest courtesy you'd show a business partner."
She deliberately emphasized the words business partner.
I saw Royce's jawline instantly tighten.
Margaret didn't look at him again, but turned to me, warmly patting the back of my hand.
"Come visit me anytime, child. The castle's doors are always open to you."
I nodded, turned, and followed Royce out of this oppressive ancient castle.
The atmosphere in the car on the way back was even colder than on the way there.
I could feel the low pressure radiating from him.
He must really want to know what his grandmother and I talked about, but his damned pride wouldn't let him ask me.
Perfect.
Let him wonder.
I leaned against the car window, watching the scenery fly backward outside, but my mind was racing.
Margaret Sterling.
An old fox even harder to deal with than Royce.
Just then, my phone in my purse suddenly vibrated.
I took it out and saw a name flashing on the screen that I thought I'd never see again.
Myrdal.
That bastard who wouldn't go away.
My first instinct was to hang up, but from the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the silent man beside me.
A thought suddenly flashed through my mind.
I pressed the answer button, and I put it on speakerphone.
"Selena."
Myrdal's voice came through the speaker, carrying a hint of suppressed anger and impatience.
He still had that superior attitude, as if calling me was an honor for me.
"What do you want?" I asked coldly.
"Selena. The Kateson family situation—now the whole circle knows about it. My father is very unhappy."
He said it like it was obvious, as if their family's damaged reputation was my responsibility.
"So?"
"So you need to find a way to fix this." His tone was very demanding. "I know you did it. You're best at handling this kind of mess. Make Taisia shut up, make those reporters get lost. Name your price."
I almost laughed at his audacity.
What did he think I was?
His crisis management manager?
"Myrdal, did you lose your damn mind? This is your problem, not mine."
"This is our problem! As long as you don't break off your engagement with Sterling, you're still my..." he roared.
I was about to hang up this pointless call when the man beside me, who had been silent the whole time, suddenly moved.
Royce reached out and took my phone from my hand.
I thought he would hang up directly like last time.
But he didn't.
He brought the phone to his lips and said in a tone so calm it was bone-chilling:
"Mr. Carter."
The voice on the other end was instantly cut off.
"This is Royce Sterling."
I could imagine what expression Myrdal must have on the other end.
"My fiancée is very busy right now. She's choosing venues for our wedding and doesn't have time to deal with your family affairs."
"If you have any questions about the Hart family investment, or any interest in bankruptcy liquidation, you can have your lawyer contact my lawyer. They'll be happy to answer your questions."
After he finished, he didn't even give the other party time to react.
He pressed the hang-up button directly.
Then, right in front of me, he opened my contacts, found Myrdal's name, long-pressed it, and selected "delete contact."
After doing all this, he tossed the phone back onto my lap.
Anger flared up inside me, hot and sudden.
That bastard!
Who the hell did he think he was?!
Did he think he was my guardian? My god? That he could control my phone, my relationships, everything about me?
"Are you fucking sick?" I grabbed my phone and turned to glare at him.
He didn't even lift an eyelid, still leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed. "I'm helping you clean out the trash."
"Trash?" I laughed in anger. "That's still my trash! It's not your place to interfere!"
"Now it's ours." He finally opened his eyes, those deep eyes turning toward me.
"I don't want my fiancée to have any unnecessary entanglements with other men. It affects the Sterling family's reputation."
The same old line again.
Family, reputation, interests.
In his eyes, I wasn't a person—I was just a symbol tied to his interests.
I really wanted to punch him right in his self-righteous face.
But I knew it wouldn't work.
Fighting this man physically would be like throwing an egg at a rock.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down.
I couldn't let him provoke me, couldn't lose control in front of him—that's exactly what he wanted to see.
I turned back around, no longer looking at him.
I stared hard out the window, feeling like my lungs were being burned through by rage.
I swore, if looks could kill, Royce would have died ten thousand times in my mind by now.
Cleaning out trash? Who did he think he was?
My phone, my contacts—that was my private domain. What right did he have to erase things he didn't like, playing god?
The air in the car felt frozen, so oppressive I could barely breathe.
I swore I would never be in an enclosed space with him again.
The car finally stopped at the entrance of the Paris Grand Hotel.