Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Willow POV

The air froze.

Charles knew who I meant. He turned his head, avoiding my eyes.

"Rachel's just my sister. We grew up together."

Sister?

A sister he could fuck?

My tone turned mocking. "Just a sister? Who makes you leave your wife on your wedding night to see her? Who makes you abandon your wife at a family banquet to comfort her?"

Charles looked at me helplessly, as if I were the one being unreasonable. "Willow, I understand you're insecure, but Rachel really is just my sister. You shouldn't suspect me like this."

I stared at this man I'd loved deeply for five years. Suddenly everything seemed absurd.

"Fine. Since you say she's just your sister, I won't ask more. But I still want to work."

Charles frowned.

"Willow—"

I cut him off. "If your company isn't suitable, I'll find work myself."

He frowned, genuinely confused. "If you need money, I can give it to you. I can give you whatever you want. Why do you insist on working?"

"Because I want dignity."

That statement stunned Charles.

I finally said everything I'd been holding in. "Charles, do you know how those people looked at me at yesterday's banquet? They looked at me like I was some pathetic gold-digger clinging to wealth."

"Penelope made Rachel sit beside you in front of everyone, and you said nothing. You even took Rachel's call and left, making me face that humiliation alone!"

"I—" Charles couldn't answer. Unwilling, he asked, "You've really decided?"

I said coolly, "I'm just letting you know. Starting tomorrow, I'm looking for work."

"Fine," Charles said coldly, clearly displeased. "Suit yourself. But if you run into trouble, don't say I didn't warn you."

---

Over the next few days, I sent out resumes frantically.

My credentials weren't bad, but there was a long gap in my employment history. Fatal.

Occasionally companies sent interview invitations, but after learning my identity, they all found excuses to decline.

The Lancaster family's influence was greater than I'd imagined.

Or rather, had Charles done something behind the scenes?

But I didn't give up. Finally, I received an interview notice from a small company.

The interview went smoothly. The interviewer smiled and told me to wait for their call.

I had a good feeling about it.

Though I was surprised—it was actually a small company under the Lancaster Group.

Halfway home, it suddenly started pouring. I had no umbrella. I was soaked through, my dress clinging to my body, outlining every curve.

I ducked under a shop awning. Out of habit, I called Charles.

"Willow?"

He answered instantly, concern in his voice.

I laughed bitterly at myself. Habits were terrifying.

Even knowing he'd cheated, when something happened, I still turned to him first.

My voice was hoarse. "Charles, it's pouring. Can you come get me?"

Charles agreed immediately. "Send me your location. Find a shop nearby and wait inside. Don't stand in the rain."

The same gentle instructions as always. As if nothing had changed.

My nose stung. I softly agreed. "Okay."

But an hour passed. Charles still hadn't come. The rain hadn't stopped either.

I decisively decided to call a cab myself.

Standing here soaked, enduring strangers' stares while waiting for him—that was pathetically foolish.

Suddenly a strange man's voice came from behind.

"Miss, alone?"

A man in his thirties. His eyes roamed over me shamelessly—especially my chest and waist, outlined by wet clothes.

"I'm waiting for my husband," I said coldly, moving several steps away.

But the man followed.

"In this downpour, you think your husband's coming?" He smiled lewdly. "How about I give you a ride? My car's right over there."

I ignored him, preparing to leave.

"Don't be so cold," he moved closer, trying to press against me. "We're both adults. What's wrong with making friends? You look cold. Why don't you warm up in my car first?"

I backed far away, but behind me was a dead-end alley. I could only warn him coldly.

"My husband will be here any second. Leave."

The man grew bolder. "If your husband was really coming, why would he leave you standing here in the rain? Face it—you got stood up."

My hand tightened on my bag, panic rising.

No one was around. Just me and this man with bad intentions.

The man grew emboldened, reaching for my arm to drag me toward the alley. "Stop pretending. I've seen plenty of women like you. Dressed this provocatively, aren't you just asking for—"

"Let go!" I struggled, finding the small knife in my bag.

Preparing for the worst—

"Let her go."

Just then, a low voice cut through the rain.

I turned. A tall figure emerged from the downpour.

Black coat. Cold, chiseled face. Those deep eyes fixed on the man harassing me, ice-cold.

Sterling.

The moment I saw him, I felt inexplicably safe.

The man clearly recognized this face from financial magazines. His expression went white.

"Sterling... Mr. Lancaster..." he stammered. "I didn't know this lady was your wife—"

"Get lost."

Sterling spoke one word. The undeniable authority made the man turn and flee immediately.

He walked up to me. His gaze lingered on my soaked clothes for a second, then moved away.

He took off his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders.

The jacket still held his warmth and that faint fir scent.

"Thank you..." I said quietly.

This was the second time he'd helped me.

"Blake will take you home," Sterling said, tone still cold.

I nodded, about to say something when Blake had already pulled the car over.

"Ms. Spencer, please get in."

I got in the car, looking through the window at Sterling's straight figure, obscured by heavy rain. I couldn't see his expression.

I couldn't help asking Blake, "How did you happen to be here?"

Blake answered formally. "We were passing by. Happened to see you being harassed."

Passing by? What a coincidence.

We arrived at the villa Charles and I lived in.

Just as I was about to get out, Blake's phone rang. He opened an email, glanced at me, his expression subtly shifting.

Then he called Sterling.

"Mr. Lancaster, we've identified the woman from that night."