Chapter 141 Deceiving Oneself and Others
Summer held her breath all the way home from the mall. She didn't even bother turning on the entrance light before grabbing her phone and calling Aria.
The moment the call connected, she unleashed all the anger she'd been bottling up.
"Aria, I'm so pissed! Let me tell you, I went to buy clothes for Jasper this afternoon and ran into Arthur!"
Summer's voice was urgent and furious, full of undisguised indignation. "The second he saw me, he went crazy, grabbing me and demanding to know about you—where you are, whether you're back. He looked absolutely pathetic!"
She paused, her tone taking on a sharper edge of disgust. "And the worst part? There was a woman with him, clinging to him the whole time, looking at him all lovey-dovey. She looked so familiar—just like how you used to be! I lost it right there and slapped Arthur across the face!"
Aria's fingers tightened slightly around her phone as she listened quietly.
Summer continued her angry rant. "I said that woman was his new girlfriend, and he didn't even deny it! He just kept asking about you. First there was Sophie, and now he's found another substitute who looks like you, still pretending to be so devoted. It's disgusting!"
There was a long silence on the other end.
Aria didn't scold her, didn't sound surprised, didn't show any emotion at all. As Summer rattled on with her complaints, Aria's gaze slowly drifted to the darkening sky outside the window, her thoughts wandering beyond her control.
Those memories she'd deliberately buried were being gently uncovered.
Once upon a time, she too had wanted his attention, his care. But all she got in the end was three years of coldness and neglect in their marriage. Then she left, and now he was asking around about her everywhere.
She really didn't understand him—didn't understand what she meant to him.
Even less did she understand whether what he felt for her was love, or just an obsession born from not being able to have what he wanted.
She took a light breath, her voice thin as gauze. "I know."
Nothing more than that.
Summer's indignant voice continued through the receiver. Aria gently pressed her fingers to her temple and interrupted at the right moment.
"Summer, Jasper's calling me. I need to go. Let's talk more when we meet up."
Her tone remained calm, betraying no emotion, as if everything she'd just heard about Arthur was nothing more than idle gossip about strangers.
Summer paused, unable to say more, and could only agree. "Okay, we'll talk more in person. I bought some clothes for Jasper today—have him try them on!"
"Okay, got it."
Aria responded softly, exchanged a few more polite words, and before Summer could bring up Arthur again, gently pressed the disconnect button.
She slowly leaned back on the sofa, her gaze falling on Jasper playing with his toys nearby, her soft expression concealing all the churning emotions beneath.
Grant Corporation Office.
The CEO's private lounge was bathed in dim, amber wall lighting. The air was thick with the heavy smell of alcohol mixed with faint men's cologne, so stuffy it made one's chest tight.
Rachel half-supported, half-carried the drunk and limp Arthur to the bed. Just as she straightened up to catch her breath, her wrist was suddenly grabbed hard.
The man's palm was burning hot, gripping with enough force to crush her bones. His usually cold eyes had completely dropped their guard, leaving only thick, undissolvable pain and confusion.
He was too drunk to see clearly, recognizing Rachel only through the shadow carved into his bones, mistaking her for the person who drove him mad.
"Aria, is that you?"
His low, hoarse voice rolled from his throat, carrying the choked vulnerability of drunkenness, like a thin needle stabbing straight into Rachel's heart.
Aria again.
Whether he was triumphant or drunk and miserable, the only person occupying all his thoughts was always Aria.
Jealousy and resentment surged wildly in her chest, wrapping around her reason like vines, making even breathing feel bitter.
She looked at this man before her, watched him suffer heartbreak over someone else. The obsession she'd been suppressing all this time finally broke through all her boundaries in this moment.
Once the thought of throwing caution to the wind arose, it could no longer be suppressed.
Arthur couldn't distinguish reality from illusion at all. Thinking the person he'd lost and found was right beside him, he pulled Rachel forcefully into his arms, rested his chin on top of her head, and murmured apologies over and over.
All the guilt and regret he had nowhere to vent when sober now poured out through his drunkenness.
"I'm sorry, Aria. I was wrong. I really know I was wrong."
"Don't leave again, okay? I'll never let you go again."
"Please, forgive me, okay?"
The tender words, the burning body temperature, the exclusive embrace—all of this was what Rachel had dreamed of, yet it was built on an absurd case of mistaken identity.
She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, only determined pretense remained.
She didn't push him away. Instead, she gently raised her hand, running it through his messy black hair, softening her voice to respond quietly, "I'm here."
Those two words instantly calmed Arthur. He held her tighter, rambling about how much he missed her, each sentence hitting Rachel's sore spots, yet making her unable to let go.
She craved this moment of false warmth, and even more wanted to seize this only chance to get close to him.
Last time at the villa, Sophie had discovered them. This time here, in the entire office, there was only her and him. No one else could interrupt. What was there left to hesitate about!
"I forgive you."
Rachel spoke softly, her voice barely audible, yet carrying a desperate madness.
She knew she was deceiving herself, but she wanted him too badly.
The alcohol and ambiguity continued to heat up. The amber light blurred their shadows together. She slowly leaned closer, looking at his lips so close to hers, her heartbeat racing so fast it felt like it would explode.
She closed her eyes and leaned in slightly—just one more inch and she could touch his lips.
Just this one step. If they had sex, even when he sobered up, he wouldn't be able to push her away completely.
Just as their lips were about to touch—
Click...
A crisp sound of the door lock turning cut through the suffocating ambiguity of the lounge without warning.
The door was gently pushed open from outside.
Rachel's body instantly froze, stopped in place as if frozen, even her breathing came to an abrupt halt.
She remained in her leaning position, about to kiss him, and looked up toward the doorway in horror, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, almost bursting through her throat.
Against the backlight, a tall figure stood there quietly.
Before she could collect herself, a magnetic, pleasant voice came through: "Looks like I've come at a bad time..."