Chapter 3 Just Saw Him Last Night

After a restless night, Emily arrived home late.

The villa was quiet; it seemed everyone was already asleep.

She walked up to the second floor. As she turned a corner, she was suddenly met with a pale, ghost-like face of a young girl, staring at her with resentment.

"Emily." Amy called her full name, "Did you go see Jackie?"

"Yes." Emily couldn't be bothered to say more than a word.

Amy curled her lips. "I knew it. You just had to ruin my plans."

Emily was exhausted and didn't want to argue. She tried to pass her, but Amy blocked her path again.

"Emily, you're really pleased with yourself now, aren't you? Our family is finally in trouble, on the verge of collapse. You must be overjoyed, right?"

"Enough!"

A hushed yet stern voice came from behind Amy, followed by Mary, who quickly stepped forward and grabbed her arm. "Don't talk nonsense. Apologize to your sister!"

"Sister? What kind of sister is she?" Amy scoffed, pointing at Emily. "She can't wait to see the Wilson family fall apart! How can she still walk around our house acting so high and mighty?"

Mary slapped Amy across the face. "Do you realize your mistake now?"

"My mistake? What did I do wrong? I was just trying to help the family!"

"You dare say that!" Mary's voice remained low, but her authority was undiminished. "Our family already has enough troubles. Your father's health is getting worse by the day, and yet you went and got involved with someone like Jackie. Are you trying to push him to his grave?"

"At least I'm better than her, right?" Amy pointed at Emily again. "I'm trying to help our family! What about her? She's still trying to divorce James at a time like this. She probably thinks we aren't falling apart fast enough! From the beginning, she believed you stole Dad from her mother, and now she's finally getting her revenge. She wants us to be completely ruined! And you still trust her? She's nothing but an ungrateful traitor-"

Emily had a headache. She didn't want to hear any more of this, so she turned and went into her bedroom.

After taking a hot shower, she still felt groggy. As soon as she stepped out of the bathroom, she saw Mary sitting on the edge of her bed, seemingly waiting for her for some time.

"Emily, Amy is immature. Don't take her words to heart."

Ever since her parents' divorce, Emily had insisted on changing her last name to follow her mother's. From then on, her father, Andrew, only called her by the childhood nickname he had given her, and Mary followed suit.

Emily sat down by the bed and said, "Auntie, don't worry. Jackie won't be a problem."

Mary nodded, as if she had expected Emily to handle it.

After a moment of silence, she asked, "What about you? He didn't make things difficult for you, did he?"

It sounded like concern, but her tone was still stiff.

She had always been like this. Emily didn't mind and simply shook her head.

Mary didn't press further. She stood up and said, "You've had a long day. Get some rest."

Emily nodded and collapsed onto the bed.

She had thought she was exhausted enough to fall asleep quickly, but two hours passed, and she was still wide awake.

There were too many things on her mind.

James loathed her, and because of that, he hated the Wilson family as well. He would rather torture himself than grant her a divorce, forcing her to watch the Wilsons crumble.

Regardless of whether she was Mrs. Green or not, in New York City, people followed James's lead.

Under these circumstances, there was no way to save the Wilson family.

Andrew was exhausted from dealing with everything. Mary appeared cold but only truly cared about her husband and children. Amy had just turned 18, and her younger brother, Charles, was only 16. With a situation like this-plus Emily being a burden as Mrs. Green-anyone would say the same thing:

There's no hope.

But was that really true?

For some reason, Emily thought of the mysterious man in Jackie's room again.

He stayed hidden, as if he didn't want anyone to know his identity.

Jackie, who usually surrounded himself with women, had none around that night and was so bored that he could only play with his phone.

They seemed to have a good relationship, yet Jackie's usual flamboyant, reckless demeanor didn't rub off on him at all.

Among the elite circles of New York City, no one like him came to mind.

Who was he, really?

After barely one or two hours of sleep, Emily managed to nap a little longer in the morning, but she woke up feeling even worse-probably from catching a cold the night before.

She went downstairs, took some cold medicine, and sat on the couch in a daze for a while before remembering she had an appointment today.

Tonight was The Hall family's annual charity gala. In the past, Emily never attended such events, but this time, she had already booked a stylist and planned to go as Mrs. Green.

Even in the dead of winter, she chose a custom-tailored, modernized cheongsam. The deep starry-blue fabric seemed subtle at first glance but shimmered like a sky full of stars when touched by light.

"This color suits Miss Emily perfectly," the stylist praised, "Your skin looks so bright-it's practically illegal to be this beautiful."

She was a new client, and the stylist didn't hold back on the compliments.

Emily sneezed loudly, then put on a pair of sapphire earrings. "Yeah, it's rare for me to go out. If I'm not stunning, then who would even look at me?"

James wanted her trapped in the role of Mrs. Green forever, and indeed, he could make that happen.

But only because, for the past two years, she had played the role flawlessly.

James despised her, but she had never done anything as Mrs. Green that could justify his anger.

That was why he could endure it-why he could use this as a way to torment her.

But what if she changed?

Would James still tolerate it?

Right then, her phone rang. Emily glanced at the caller ID, then stepped out onto the balcony to answer it.

The styling studio was in a standalone building along the river. As she answered the call, she pushed open a door at the end of the hallway.

The room was empty except for a large sofa, likely for guests to rest. Another door led to what seemed to be a bathroom.

Emily stepped inside, closed the door behind her, and answered the call.

A laughing voice on the other end said apologetically, "Sorry, ma'am. The male escort you requested had an unexpected issue and can't make it tonight. Would you like us to send someone else?"

Emily held back an eye roll. "I already paid, and you're telling me this now?"

"We're really sorry. We can replace him with someone just as tall, good-looking, and strong. How about that? We guarantee he'll take good care of you."

"So basically, even after paying, I don't get to choose?" Emily was too tired to argue. "Refund me ten times the amount, and just shut your business down already."

She hung up, then turned to head for the bathroom.

But the moment she opened the door, she realized something was wrong.

A thick mist of steam swirled under the white ceiling light.

And beneath it stood a tall, lean man with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, wearing only a towel around his hips, leaning casually against the sink-watching her.

His dark eyes were calm, unreadable.

She had just seen him last night.