Chapter 93 Candidly Concealing the Truth
Sloane's POV
I knew he cared about that business card. It was just a ridiculous misunderstanding, but right now, I couldn't defend myself. Because back then, I really hadn't thought about telling him.
I lowered my eyes, my voice barely above a whisper: "I'm sorry. Because at that time, I... was still thinking that once Director Aria's situation was handled, I would divorce you."
That sentence was like a silent bomb, exploding between us.
He froze completely, looking at me in disbelief. The pain in his eyes was a hundred times more intense than when he'd just learned I'd hidden my pregnancy.
I didn't look at his hurt expression. I just kept talking: "I never thought about using a child to tie you down, but later... you were so good to me, so good that I thought maybe we could start over. That's when I changed my mind."
I laid bare all my truest, most hurtful thoughts for him to see.
The room fell into a deathly silence, with only the sound of our heavy breathing.
I didn't know how he would react—maybe with rage, maybe with deeper disappointment.
After a long while, Jared slowly closed his eyes. When he opened them again, all the emotions had been forcibly suppressed, leaving only bottomless exhaustion.
He stepped forward and pulled me into his arms again. This embrace was no longer forceful, but carried a kind of almost fragile intensity, like he'd lost and found something precious.
"I promise you." He finally gave in, his voice terribly hoarse. "But you must take bodyguards with you for close protection."
"The disaster area is complicated. Taking so many people isn't convenient. I..."
"Sloane!" He cut me off sharply, cupping my face and forcing me to look at him. Those bloodshot eyes held unprecedented seriousness and a hint of pleading. "You're pregnant now. Do you know what that means? If anything happens to you, what am I supposed to do?"
His near-breakdown appearance softened my heart, and I couldn't say another word of refusal.
"Or I'll go with you," he said in a low voice.
"No," I immediately shook my head. "The company has so much going on. You can't leave."
We stared at each other for a long time, finally each taking a step back.
"Four bodyguards," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "That's my bottom line."
"Okay." I nodded in agreement.
That night, after washing up, I lay in bed, but the space beside me was empty.
After a while, Jared came out of the bathroom. He didn't hold me from behind like usual. Instead, he silently lay down beside me with his back to me, radiating a "don't mess with me" vibe.
I knew he was still angry.
I moved closer and gently hugged his strong waist from behind, pressing my face against his broad back. "Still mad?" I asked in a muffled voice.
His body stiffened, but he didn't answer.
"Mad that I hid the pregnancy from you?" I continued asking.
He finally reacted. He turned over and pulled me into his arms, face to face. In the dim bedroom light, the hurt in his eyes was clearly visible.
"I just don't understand," his voice was low, with a hint of grievance. "Sloane, we're already married. Why am I not the first person you think of when something happens? What am I to you? A husband who can be abandoned at any time?"
His questions were like needles, gently pricking my heart.
I looked at him and explained seriously: "No, Jared, have you forgotten how we started? That marriage felt more like a transaction to me, a nightmare. I was afraid of you, and I... didn't trust you. I thought Keira was the only one in your heart, that all your kindness to me was just out of guilt and duty. I didn't dare trust you, much less stake my future and a child's future on someone who didn't love me."
My words were a double-edged sword, hurting him while also cutting myself open.
Jared was silent for a long time, so long I thought he would turn and leave.
The room was terrifyingly quiet, with only the rustling of wind through leaves outside and his heavy, suppressed breathing.
Just when I thought he would never acknowledge me again, he suddenly pulled me into his arms and held me tight in an almost reverent gesture.
"I'm sorry." His voice was terribly hoarse, his chin resting on top of my head, with a slight tremor. "Sloane, I'm sorry... It's my fault. I didn't give you enough security, and that's why you suffered so much."
He wasn't angry or questioning—only overwhelmed with self-blame.
This belated apology was like a key, instantly opening the rusted lock in my heart.
All those years of accumulated insecurity, suspicion, and grievance found an outlet in his embrace and his "I'm sorry." My eyes welled up, and tears flooded out uncontrollably.
Feeling my trembling, he held me tighter, clumsily wiping away the tears on my face with his fingertips, then lowered his head and pressed a burning kiss on my lips.
This kiss was different from all his previous ones—no forceful possession or aggression, only endless tenderness and cherishing.
He carefully traced the shape of my lips, as if handling a lost and recovered treasure.
I closed my eyes, drowning in the warmth he created, until his hot palm began wandering restlessly over my body. I suddenly snapped awake, pressing my hand against his solid chest, my voice fragmented: "Jared..."
He let out a low gasp and stopped. Those dark eyes, clouded with desire, quickly cleared when they met mine.
As if remembering something, his gaze slowly moved down to my belly, and the fire in his eyes was instantly replaced by a deeper tenderness.
"I forgot." He chuckled softly, picked me up, gently placed me on the bed, then lay beside me, simply holding me in his arms without any further moves.
His restrained yet cherishing manner made my heart completely soft.
Early the next morning, Jared personally drove me to the airport.
The whole way, he held my hand tightly, fingers interlaced, as if I would disappear the moment he let go.
At the airport, I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned to say goodbye: "I'm here. You should go back. Drive safely."
He hummed in response but didn't let go.
"Jared?" I looked at him with some amusement.
He pressed his lips together, staring at me silently for a few seconds, then suddenly pulled me over and hugged me without a word. The force was surprisingly strong, as if he wanted to merge me into his bones and blood.
"Call me when you get there," he buried his face in the crook of my neck, his voice muffled. "No, call as soon as you land."