Chapter 125 Take Responsibility
Matilda had already gone upstairs. Jessica stayed downstairs, sulking by herself.
Amelia watched Zoey sitting next to Charles. Despite their age gap of over a decade, they didn't look mismatched—Charles was incredibly good-looking, and Zoey was young and vibrant. Together they had a certain "CEO and his little wife" vibe going on.
Amelia figured younger was better anyway. Easier to manage, less scheming.
So she turned to Jessica. "Go back to your room."
"Auntie, weren't we doing the New Year's countdown together?"
"Come upstairs with me. There's a home theater—we can watch something up there."
"What's so great about that?"
"Watch whatever you want. Pick anything. Horror movies, I don't care." Amelia shot Jessica several pointed looks until Jessica finally caught on.
Oh. She was creating alone time for Charles and Zoey.
Those two didn't match at all though. Charles was mature and reserved, Zoey was all sass and chatter—they had zero common ground. What was Amelia thinking?
Man, her two cousins really had it rough. One married someone completely beneath his station, the other being set up by his mother with some kid.
After everyone else left, the living room held just Charles, Zoey, and a TV.
He didn't speak. She didn't speak either, but she unconsciously inched closer to him. She was smiling to herself. New Year's Eve, alone with Charles—it felt surreal and wonderful.
She pulled out her phone and, when Charles wasn't looking, sneakily snapped a selfie of them together. Actually, Charles had totally seen her do it. Just as she was about to post the photo, Charles said flatly, "Don't post that on Facebook."
Zoey laughed awkwardly. "I won't! I'm not posting it—just editing it a little."
Charles knew Zoey lived on Facebook. Every meal, every random thing she saw—it all got posted. What he didn't know was that her posts were set to visible only to him.
They kept watching TV. Currently it was a stand-up comedy special. Zoey was laughing so hard her stomach hurt. Then she looked up and caught Charles's puzzled expression.
Was it really that funny? Looked like the same tired routine to him.
Zoey quickly explained, "I've been traveling abroad, so I haven't seen this before. First time watching—it's kinda funny. You don't think so?"
"No." Charles actually responded, which was rare. He'd wanted to leave ages ago, but his mother had told him to keep their guest company. He had no choice. Yep, he was a good, obedient son.
Next came the song and dance performances. Zoey watched with rapt attention—she clearly recognized some of the performers. But Charles found it increasingly dull. These shows weren't his thing.
Zoey didn't think the songs were great either, but she wasn't really listening to the music anyway. She just wanted to look at hot celebrities.
After several performances ended, she glanced at Charles again and realized he'd fallen asleep. His head rested against the sofa, his large hands folded on his knees. Even sleeping, he looked impossibly elegant.
Seeing this, Zoey quickly turned down the TV volume and leaned in to study him. He was almost thirty-eight, but his skin was still tight, his face free of wrinkles. Thick eyebrows, strong nose, slightly thin lips, long neck...
From head to toe, Zoey thought the man in front of her was devastatingly handsome.
She whispered softly, "Charles."
No response.
Suddenly Zoey had an idea: she was going to sleep next to Charles tonight!
The sofa they were sitting on was adjustable. With a gentle press of a button, the backrest would slowly recline while the footrest extended forward, transforming it into a makeshift bed.
When she lowered Charles down, he showed no awareness. So Zoey slowly lay down beside him. She left the TV on—that way it would look like they'd both accidentally dozed off.
At four in the morning, Charles woke up. His biological clock never failed him. His success as one of Phoenix City's most accomplished young entrepreneurs wasn't built on talent alone. Career success demanded sacrifice, and Charles understood that. His routine was military-precise: asleep by ten every night, up at four in the morning, an hour-long nap at noon. Seven hours total sleep per day.
When he came to, the lights were still on, though dimmed to night mode. The TV was playing commercials.
And Zoey was lying next to him.
Her sleeping position was absolutely graceless—half her face smooshed against the sofa, drool pooling, one leg thrown over his.
He shifted slightly. She seemed to sense it but didn't wake, just reached back to scratch her butt before settling back to sleep.
His brow furrowed slightly. But after a moment, he couldn't help a quiet laugh.
When Zoey woke up, it was already bright outside. She stayed sprawled on the bed for a while, yawned hugely, then stretched. Something felt off about the bed. Then it hit her—she was at the Gonzaga estate!
She bolted upright. Charles was gone. Instead, Matilda, Amelia, and Jessica were all sitting around her, watching her like she was a zoo animal.
"Happy New Year, Zoey." Amelia spoke first.
"Happy New Year, Mrs. Gonzaga. Where's Charles?" Zoey couldn't help asking.
"He left early this morning."
"Last night..." Zoey felt awkward, unsure if her little scheme had been exposed.
Amelia quickly reassured her. "Last night you both fell asleep on the sofa. I came down around midnight and saw you sleeping so peacefully, so I didn't want to disturb you."
"Sleeping peacefully?" Zoey's head drooped with embarrassment.
Amelia smiled. "I took pictures of you two sleeping."
"Really? Let me see!" Zoey perked up excitedly.
Amelia actually showed Zoey the photos, then suggested mischievously, "Why don't you send these to Charles and make him take responsibility?"
"Huh?" Zoey stared at the pictures. They were both fully clothed, lying there like two passengers who'd dozed off in adjacent seats. How did that require anyone to take responsibility?