Chapter 5 Chapter 5 Are You Hurt

It was only then that Rowan realized the woman in his arms wasn't Phoebe-it was the young servant.

His brow furrowed slightly. This was the second time he had mistaken the two.

Just then, a voice called from outside, "Mrs. Hayes."

Phoebe was here!

Panic surged through Baila. Rowan's hands were still firmly on her waist, and she acted on instinct, grasping his arms and pushing them away. "Mr. Hayes, please let go. Mrs. Hayes is coming."

His grip was strong, unyielding. As Baila's fingers fumbled against his wrist, they brushed against the cold steel of his watch. The smooth, luxurious surface sent a shiver through her fingertips.

Rowan let Baila go. As she turned, her finger caught on the sharp thorns of a rose branch.

A crimson bead of blood welled up on her fingertip.

Rowan blinked as he watched her uneasy expression. She always seemed afraid of him-head down, body tense, avoiding his eyes.

And yet, he remembered her alluring eyes. Those expressive eyes could captivate anyone who dared to look too long.

"Are you hurt?" Rowan asked.

"It's nothing. Thank you for your concern, Mr. Hayes," Baila replied, slipping her fingertip into her mouth to stop the bleeding.

Rowan looked at her lips.

They were soft and full, tinged with a natural, enticing redness.

A glint flashed across Rowan's eyes.

At that moment, Phoebe entered the room. The sight of Rowan and Baila standing together sent a flicker of anger through her face. Without hesitation, she snapped, "Baila, what are you doing here? Get to the kitchen where you belong!"

"Yes," Baila said before quickly turning and leaving.

Phoebe turned to Rowan, flashing a sweet smile. "Honey, let's go and have breakfast together."

Rowan said nothing, striding toward the dining room.

***

In the kitchen, Baila focused on steadying her breath. For a moment, she had been sure Rowan had recognized her. But in the end, it turned out he had simply mistaken her for Phoebe. That was good.

She had no interest in provoking a man as dangerous as Rowan. All she wanted was to get her grandmother back and leave here.

"Baila, bring out the milk."

As soon as Baila stepped inside the dining room with the milk, she heard Phoebe's voice, dripping with disdain. "Baila is just an ugly woman from the countryside. People avoid her the moment they see her. That face is enough to disgust anyone. I'm the only one kind enough to keep her around as a servant."

Baila's face remained unchanged. She was used to Phoebe always putting her down to boost her own image. Without reacting, she glanced toward Rowan.

Seated at the head of the table, Rowan was absorbed in the business newspaper. At thirty, his appeal wasn't just in his refined, chiseled features-it was also in the quiet authority he radiated.

Phoebe's words didn't seem to reach him. He remained focused on the newspaper.

Baila exhaled slightly, relieved. Then, her eyes drifted to Phoebe. The woman's face, sculpted by plastic surgery, bore a forced perfection.

***

During the day, Baila attended Yangton University. As soon as her last class ended, she rushed out of the campus gates, standing by the roadside in hopes of catching a taxi back to Imperial Manor.

But none of the passing taxis stopped. Just as she was about to give up, a sleek, black Rolls-Royce pulled up in front of her.

The world-class luxury car, worth tens of millions, gave off a quiet, unmistakable opulence. The rear window slid down, revealing a familiar, handsome face. Aldous Hayes said, "Ugly duckling, trying to get a cab? Get in. I'll give you a ride."

Ugly duckling. That was what everyone called Baila.

Aldous wasn't just Baila's classmate-he was also the campus heartthrob.

With no taxis stopping, Baila believed he had little choice. Letting out a silent sigh, she opened the car door to get in. "Thank you."

However, the moment she slid into the backseat, she regretted it.

Because sitting in the driver's seat was Rowan.

This was his car.

Aldous smirked. "Ugly duckling, meet my uncle, Rowan."