After Rebirth, I Accept The Arranged Marriage-Chapter 61: A Butterfly Poised for Flight

Although Victor Morgan didn’t take Jessie Sterling out for a late-night snack, he didn’t take her straight home, either.

He owned a yacht in Port Caldoria, and the drive from Southaven wasn’t long.

Victor Morgan took Jessie Sterling for a nighttime cruise around the harbor, then sailed directly from Port Caldoria back to Southaven.

Jessie Sterling went to freshen up on the yacht. Despite the car’s air conditioning earlier, Victor Morgan’s advances had left her looking rather disheveled.

Before she even stepped onto the deck, Jessie Sterling saw him casually leaning against the railing, gazing at the distant city lights.

Jessie rarely smelled tobacco on him, likely because Victor Morgan didn’t smoke much in her presence.

Now, as she watched, Victor Morgan held a stemmed glass filled with bubbling champagne.

His shirt billowed in the wind, and the deck lights outlined his tall frame. His face, in particular, drifted in and out of view with the shifting light and shadows, exuding a quiet allure.

The watch on Victor Morgan’s wrist, with its simple and understated design, caught the light. In the darkness, the glint from its face seemed to draw Jessie Sterling toward him.

Victor Morgan noticed her the moment she stepped out.

As Jessie Sterling walked toward him, Victor Morgan stepped forward and held out his hand. With a firm tug, he pulled her into his embrace.

"Why didn’t you put on a coat?" Victor Morgan murmured, lowering his head and pressing his glass of champagne into Jessie’s hand.

Jessie tucked a stray strand of long hair behind her ear. Her updo had been mussed up during their fooling around in the car, so she had simply taken it all down after they boarded the yacht. It felt much more comfortable this way.

"I’m not cold," Jessie said. She took a sip of the sweet champagne and realized Victor must have prepared it just for her; it was exactly the flavor she liked. Jessie couldn’t help but smile as she wrapped an arm around Victor Morgan’s trim waist. "And even if I were a little cold, you’re very warm."

Victor Morgan hadn’t known Jessie could be such a sweet-talker. His hand came to rest on her back.

The material of her gown was thin, and his palm could almost feel the delicate bones of her shoulder blades.

They felt like a pair of butterfly wings, poised for flight.

It was rare for the two of them to have such a quiet, peaceful moment together. Even the sea breeze seemed to carry a hint of tenderness.

Jessie Sterling didn’t really remember how she’d gotten back to Southaven. The next morning, when she woke up in bed, she instinctively reached for her phone and saw a message from Victor Morgan sent the previous night.

[Victor Morgan: Wait for me.]

Quincy Sterling hadn’t gone into the office that morning. She’d been in Port Caldoria seeing a client the day before and had to organize her materials at home before a meeting that afternoon.

Quincy let out a short laugh when she saw Jessie slowly making her way downstairs.

"Look who’s finally awake," Quincy said, her voice laced with obvious mockery.

Jessie grunted and rubbed her head.

She seemed to recall drinking some champagne last night, forgetting that she’d already had some liquor at the charity gala. The sea breeze must have hit her hard, because she’d gotten incredibly drowsy.

Her head was still throbbing a little when she woke up.

"There’s some sober-up soup in the pot. Go get some for yourself," Quincy said.

Jessie took two steps, then suddenly stopped and turned to look at her sister on the sofa. "How did you know I was drunk?"

Quincy was speechless.

The look she gave Jessie was utterly indescribable.

"How could I not know? The whole family knows you were drunk. Your husband carried you home yesterday. How else would I have found out?" Quincy replied, her tone infuriatingly calm and completely unconcerned with Jessie’s impending social death. She even helpfully added, "After he brought you back, he tried to leave, but you were dead to the world. And yet, you somehow still managed to get a death grip on his tie and refused to let go."

After saying her piece, Quincy watched as Jessie froze, looking utterly stupefied. A quick smile flickered across her lips.

Jessie’s mind felt like it had just exploded. She was utterly mortified.

"...Victor... carried me home?" Jessie stammered.

"What do you think? That you walked back on your own two feet? If you can’t hold your liquor, you shouldn’t drink when you’re out. You’re lucky your husband was with you yesterday," Quincy chided.

It was a well-known fact in their family that Jessie was a lightweight.

Jessie was speechless.

’Is it too late to go get a brain scrub?’

Looking like she’d lost the will to live, Jessie finished her breakfast and trudged back upstairs to lie motionless on her bed.

She couldn’t remember anything about what she’d done last night. The thought of Victor carrying her home—and of her refusing to let him leave—made her bury her face in her pillow and whimper like a small animal.

’So embarrassing.’

’A proper lady, getting black-out drunk!’

When she heard a notification from her phone, Jessie mechanically picked it up and glanced at the screen, devoid of any energy.

The next moment, Jessie shot up in bed.

The message was from Zoe Marx.

Zoe Marx was buzzing with excitement in her office. She was a huge fan of ACG culture herself, an expert on all sorts of comics and anime, whether they were Chinese manhua or Japanese manga.

When she had first stumbled upon Jessie Sterling’s work on social media, she hadn’t paid it much mind, giving it only a passing glance. She’d never expected that "passing glance" would turn into her binge-reading every single comic the artist had posted.

They were short little stories about the tea parties of a small bear, a lamb, and a rabbit. Occasionally, the parents of the three little ones would make an appearance. They were all heartwarming, healing webtoons—a veritable breath of fresh air in the fickle, negativity-filled online world.

So Zoe Marx had signed Jessie.

She hadn’t expected Jessie’s current project, *New Marriage Diary*, to become an overnight hit on the site. The slice-of-life genre was usually a tough sell against more plot-driven comics. But when this morning’s daily report landed on her desk, Zoe Marx shot straight up from her chair.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she messaged Jessie.

[Zoe Marx: Sweetie, you there? Get on the site, quick! Look at your latest stats!]

[Zoe Marx: Our *New Marriage Diary* just broke into the top five for new comics! Your numbers are amazing! If you make it into the top three, the site gives out a bonus! Keep the updates coming!]

[Zoe Marx: Your fans are leaving comments, make sure you reply to some of them, okay?]

Jessie rubbed her eyes. A pang of guilt hit her as she read Zoe’s messages. She went to the website and checked the date of her last update—it had been almost a week.

The large banner at the top of the homepage was a carousel, automatically cycling through the most popular new comics.

Jessie swiped a couple of times and saw her own work.

Her creator dashboard was covered in little red notification dots.