Chapter 6

Back inside the café, the man continued his unwanted attention.

Frustrated, Willow stood to find another shelter—if she couldn't confront him, she could at least avoid him.

"Where are you going? Let me drive you!" he called, following closely behind.

Willow frowned, about to respond when a shadow fell across her path.

Blake's voice cut through the tension, "Ms. Spencer, who is this gentleman?"

She looked up to find Sterling towering over her, his expression clearly displeased. He likely assumed she was entertaining another man just days after marrying Charles.

"I don't know him," she explained. "I'm just waiting out the rain, and he approached me."

As she spoke, Sterling's gaze shifted to the man behind her.

The stranger felt as if he were staring down the barrel of a gun, a chill running down his spine.

He glanced between Willow and Sterling, then stammered, "I just saw her waiting alone and thought I'd offer a ride. Since you know each other, I'll be on my way..."

He quickly retreated.

With blessed silence restored, Willow thanked Sterling gratefully. "Thank you, Uncle Sterling."

He had helped her again.

Sterling caught another whiff of her sweet perfume, and unbidden memories of that night flooded his mind. His eyes darkened momentarily before he regained his composure.

"If you can't handle such situations, have Charles assign someone to accompany you," he advised coolly. "We can't afford to have scenes like this photographed and circulated."

Willow knew exactly what he meant. "That won't happen," she replied stiffly. "Few people even know about my marriage to Charles, so even if someone took photos, it wouldn't affect the Lancaster family."

She knew Penelope disliked her, considering her beneath Charles's station. Their wedding had been kept quiet for this very reason.

Sterling, reminded of this fact, dropped the subject. "Blake, take Ms. Spencer home."

Blake nodded in agreement.

As they prepared to leave, someone rushed into the café.

"Will—" Gloria Brown spotted Willow and began to call her name, but noticing Blake behind her, quickly changed her tone. "Oh, Willa! What a surprise to see you here."

She turned apologetically to the men. "Mr. Bailey, Mr. Lancaster, I'm sorry I stepped out briefly."

Blake looked between the two women. "You know each other?"

Willow remained coldly silent.

Gloria smiled brightly. "Before I was found by the Brown family, I lived with the Spencers for a while. Mr. Spencer was my stepfather—I used to be a Spencer too."

Blake's expression grew complicated.

Days ago, Sterling had given him a torn piece of fabric. Using security footage, he'd easily identified its owner and arranged today's meeting.

He never expected these two women would be connected—one being Charles's wife and the other being...

He glanced at his boss, wondering how this relationship would unfold. Of course, Sterling might not necessarily marry her.

"That was a long time ago," Willow interjected icily. "The past isn't worth mentioning."

"Willa..." Gloria frowned.

"Don't call me that." Willow's voice turned frigid. Without another glance at Gloria, she addressed Blake, "Mr. Bailey, shall we go?"

Blake sensed the strange tension between the sisters but didn't pry. He escorted Willow out.

Inside the café, Gloria approached Sterling.

"There's a misunderstanding between Willa and me. She used to be very kind to me," she explained. "Please don't think poorly of her."

She added cautiously, "May I ask why you were looking for my sister, Mr. Lancaster?"

She feared Sterling might have discovered something about that night.

Sterling gave her a dismissive look. "Lancaster family business."

His tone made it clear she shouldn't ask further questions.

Gloria studied his expression, concluding he hadn't made any connection. Willow was Sterling's niece-in-law—he would never suspect her in that context.

Reassured, Gloria relaxed.

---

Meanwhile, the rain had stopped by the time Blake dropped Willow at the villa.

After exchanging brief goodbyes, Blake returned while Willow stumbled inside. What she had attributed to the annoying stranger now revealed itself as a fever.

After a hot shower, she emerged to find Charles calling.

"Babe, I'm here. Where are you?" he asked.

A hint of bitter irony crossed Willow's face. "Just got home."

Charles sounded displeased. "Why didn't you wait? I said I'd pick you up."

"Wait until when?" Willow pressed her temples, exhausted.

Charles's voice turned defensive. "When have I ever failed to keep a promise? If I said I'd pick you up, I would have..."

Willow closed her eyes, memories washing over her.

Once, during another rainstorm, she'd been sick in her dorm, unable to eat. She'd casually mentioned craving ravioli from a restaurant several blocks away, and Charles had braved the downpour to bring it to her.

The memory of that devotion still moved her.

"Charles..."

Collapsing onto the bed, Willow felt unusually vulnerable, perhaps from her fever. Her voice came out muffled and small.

She wanted to tell him she was sick and needed him home, but Rachel's voice suddenly came through the phone.

"Willow, don't be angry with Charlie. It's my fault. I was stranded and couldn't reach anyone, so I asked Charlie to pick me up. Then we got stuck in traffic..."

Rachel's tone mixed false apology with subtle smugness.

Willow's head buzzed with shock, leaving her momentarily speechless.

On the other end, Charles noticed something wrong in her voice. He took the phone back from Rachel. "Babe, what's wrong? Are you sick? Wait for me—I'm coming right now!"

But Willow had already hung up.

Charles stared at their last exchange, then at the time, his eyes filled with regret.

"Get out," he snapped at Rachel.

She pouted reluctantly. "Charlie, my waist still hurts..."

Charles turned to glare at her. "I said get out!"

Rachel persisted stubbornly. "Willow's just upset with me. Don't rush off. Let me come with you to explain."

Charles exited the car, yanked open the passenger door, pulled Rachel out, and slammed it shut before returning to the driver's seat.

"Charlie, you can't treat me like this! You weren't like this earlier!" Rachel cried out, her face crumpling with hurt as Charles started the engine.

He didn't spare her a second glance. The car sped away, splashing her with rainwater.

Rachel screamed in frustration. When she looked up again, even the taillights had disappeared from view.