Chapter 4

Willow stepped back instinctively when the familiar Bentley pulled up—she remembered perfectly well that Sterling had emerged from the same one at lunch.

Before the car fully stopped, she turned to flee.

"Ms. Spencer." Blake stepped out, blocking her path. "Mr. Lancaster requests you join him."

Willow glanced nervously toward the vehicle. "That's not necessary. I'll wait for Charles..."

Though grateful for Sterling's intervention earlier, the memory of last night made the prospect of being alone with him unbearable.

Blake remained firmly in her way. "Please. Mr. Lancaster wants a word with you."

Willow bit her lip and reluctantly followed him to the car.

When the door opened, Sterling's expressionless face appeared before her—impeccable from his perfectly styled hair to his polished shoes.

"Uncle Sterling," she greeted properly, knowing his appreciation for etiquette.

Her hair was pulled back in a modest updo that partially concealed her neck. In her simple white dress and cardigan, she looked remarkably demure—almost unrecognizable from yesterday's bride.

As she slid into the car, she brought with her a subtle sweet fragrance.

Sterling's penetrating gaze swept over her. "Where's Charles?" he asked, his voice deep and controlled.

"He had to leave unexpectedly," she replied, pressing herself against the door.

As the car began moving, Sterling's overwhelming presence made the confined space feel suffocating.

Unsure what he wanted to discuss, Willow feared he might suspect something about last night. She barely dared to breathe.

Sterling caught her reflection in the rearview mirror, noticing how she tried to maximize the distance between them—like a mouse cornered by a cat.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked, inexplicably annoyed.

Willow detected his shift in mood. She opened her mouth but couldn't form a denial. Sterling was intimidating enough when calm; with his current cold expression, he was terrifying.

Her silence only darkened his mood further.

Realizing her mistake, Willow tried to explain, but it was too late. Sterling had already shifted his gaze to the road ahead.

"You are Charles's wife now," he stated flatly. "I don't care about the particulars of your relationship, but as a Lancaster, you have an obligation to maintain our family's reputation. I don't want your domestic issues becoming public gossip."

Willow blinked in surprise. Another misunderstanding.

She'd thought Sterling wanted to discuss last night, but he was merely warning her as the family head to avoid causing scenes.

It wasn't surprising, really. Just disappointing. She'd believed Sterling had taken her side earlier, but apparently, he simply found her incapable of handling the situation properly.

"I understand." She nodded, her voice noticeably subdued.

Sterling turned to look at her. Willow quickly composed herself and offered a smile. "Thank you for your guidance, Uncle Sterling. It won't happen again."

Sterling narrowed his eyes, studying her.

As they reached the base of the mountain, Willow spoke up. "If you've finished, you can drop me here. I'm sure you have work to attend to, and I can get a taxi home."

Sterling suddenly began, "Last night..."

Willow tensed, digging her nails into her palm while forcing herself to meet his gaze calmly.

Sterling started to speak but stopped mid-sentence when their eyes met. He swallowed whatever he'd been about to say.

Willow was Charles's bride—she would have spent last night in their marital bed. She couldn't possibly be the woman he was looking for.

"Blake, stop the car."

Once the vehicle stopped, Willow exited, said goodbye to Sterling, and watched the Bentley drive away.

Only when she was alone at the foot of the mountain did she exhale in relief and pull out her phone to call another taxi.

Soon, a cab pulled up. Willow got in, and it drove in the opposite direction from Sterling's Bentley.

On the way, they passed a small pharmacy. Willow asked the driver to stop and went inside to buy emergency contraception.

"The morning-after pill isn't 100% effective," the pharmacist warned as she handed over the medication. "If you really don't want a pregnancy, you should visit a hospital for a check-up."

Willow's heart sank. "I understand. Thank you."

She asked for a cup of water, took the pill immediately, then disposed of the packaging to eliminate all evidence before continuing home.

Willow preferred tranquility, so Charles had purchased a villa far from the city center.

By the time she arrived, dusk had fallen and Charles still hadn't returned. On her first day of marriage, Willow sat alone in the cold, empty house, feeling just as hollow inside.

While waiting, her grandmother called to check on her. Willow forced a smile into her voice as they spoke, not wanting to worry the elderly woman.

It wasn't until eight o'clock that Charles finally hurried through the door.

Seeing Willow on the sofa, he looked slightly reproachful. "Babe, why didn't you tell me you'd gone home? I went back to the manor to pick you up, and they told me you'd already left."

Willow noticed he had changed clothes. "What happened to your suit?"

Charles hesitated, his tone shifting. "New secretary spilled coffee on me."

After eight years together, the flash of guilt across his face didn't escape her notice.

"Honey." Charles sat beside her, tenderly caressing her arm. "Don't do that again, okay? Do you know how worried I was on the way home?"

Willow caught the faint scent of perfume on him. She closed her eyes briefly. "Charles..."

Charles tensed inexplicably. "What is it?"

She met his gaze, but the words "let's divorce" refused to leave her lips.

When they were in love, she'd believed she could entrust her life to him. Now she realized how naive she'd been.

But she had nothing of her own. If she divorced him now, how would she survive? Her grandmother was bedridden with a costly illness. For years, Charles had covered those expenses...

"Babe?" Charles's voice grew anxious.

Willow snapped back to reality, forcing herself to stay calm. She would divorce him eventually—just not yet.

Looking at Charles, she managed a smile. "It's nothing. I was just thinking, since you're not happy with your new secretary, what if I worked as your secretary instead?"

She needed to find a job first. Working for Charles might be a good opportunity to build skills.

Willow thought this was a reasonable request, but Charles's expression became oddly strained.