Who Cares About Him When I'm Married to the Richest Man?-Chapter 16: It’s Easy to Accept If You Treat Him as a Girlfriend
Soon the car arrived in front of the villa, and Mason Jacobs told the driver to stop, "Wait here."
Then he got out of the car and walked inside.
The lights in the villa quickly lit up, and the driver comforted himself, thinking this must be just coming back to retrieve something. Rich people, aren’t they always portrayed like this on TV? Crossing half the city for a document. Don’t scare yourself.
Mason Jacobs entered the elevator and pressed the button for the negative second floor.
As the elevator doors opened again, the voice-activated lights turned on, illuminating the layout of the negative second floor.
There were three corridors in total, leading in different directions; the corridor was eerie, with a damp and decaying smell assaulting the nose.
Mason lifted his leg and walked forward along one of the corridors.
All around was silent, his leather shoes making a clacking sound on the ground, adding to the fear.
After a moment, he stopped in front of a door, took out a key, and opened it.
The harsh sound of the collision between the iron door and the key caused chains to suddenly sound from inside, "Who’s there! Who’s outside!"
Mason opened the door and walked inside.
In the center of the room, a skinny man bound by iron chains had a scar on his face. Long-term confinement had left his skin pale, and his gaze carried a mentally ill frenzy.
"Jacobs! You finally came to see me! Let me out!"
The chains clattered as he struggled.
Mason’s eyes were shadowed, walking to the side, he picked up a whip from the ground and mercilessly lashed the man!
The whip had barbs on it, and the man cried out miserably with each strike.
It was as if Mason was venting, striking again and again, until the man’s skin was shredded; only then did he, panting slightly, throw the whip aside, stepping forward to clamp the man’s jaw, growling, "You deserve to die! This is what you owe me!"
The man was beaten to the point of near death, pain rendering him speechless; he spat out a mouthful of blood, "Clearly... clearly it was... you who sent me... you said after the job... you’d give me money, send me abroad... coward... you’re such a coward..."
Mason’s face twisted into a vicious smile, "Yes, I told you to leave no trace, but you? You should have died, yet you’re still here making me clean up after you! If it weren’t for me, you would have been executed long ago! Now you’re still breathing; you should thank me!"
The man was drained of energy, only able to breathe heavily and laboriously.
He couldn’t understand what was happening, why Mason would come to him every half month just to vent. Even if he had failed in his duties, he hadn’t caused any major consequences!
After venting, Mason calmed down significantly, the raging anger in his eyes subsided; he didn’t care about the man on the ground, turning to walk outside.
On the nearby cluttered table lay a dust-covered photograph, depicting a family of three with a little girl in the center, wearing a sweet smile.
Half of the photograph was stained with fresh blood.
Upon leaving Orlaine Manor, Mason’s demeanor had returned to normal. He received a call from Cecilia Quincy; he patiently and gently coaxed, "I’m heading back now; you sleep first, don’t wait for me, be good."
Meanwhile, after leaving the club with two friends, Esther Carter felt deeply guilty, "If I hadn’t been so impulsive, you wouldn’t have had to bow your head in front of those two beasts."
Zara Dalton chuckled, "Come on, come on, if people don’t offend me, I won’t offend them. They’ve stepped on our faces; if we don’t react, we’re just turtle losers, aren’t we?"
Elara Hale chuckled, "I know you’re feeling protective of me. Honestly, hearing you curse them felt quite satisfying."
Her temperament might not ever allow her to do such things. Sometimes she quite envied Esther, whose straightforwardness meant never suffering grievances.
Esther, seeing her friend wasn’t blaming her, finally felt relieved and said indignantly, "Someday, we’ll make those two bitches lick our toes!"
She had filming scheduled for early tomorrow, so after a few energetic words, she hurried off.
Zara had driven there, and said to Elara, "Let me drive you home; I haven’t had any alcohol tonight."
Elara nodded and got into his car.
In the car, Zara brought up another matter, "The child you wanted to adopt before, is the process going smoothly now? I’m worried with your divorce from Mason Jacobs, he might interfere."
Elara paused, somewhat uncertainly, "I don’t think he would, right?"
Mason now had Cecilia Quincy; he’s surely keen to have his own children, not interested in an eight-year-old girl from the mountains.
Despite that thought, she still sent a WeChat message to the director of the welfare institute to inquire about the situation.
To her surprise, the director hadn’t slept yet, quickly replying that everything was proceeding normally, and unless there was an unforeseen issue, it could be done by next month.
Zara felt relieved, "When you have time, let’s visit again together."
He was influenced by Elara Hale; ever since learning the tough lives of mountain children, he went every year together with Elara, sending clothes and books and also sponsoring a few families.
Elara thought for a moment, "How about next weekend?"
"Alright."
While they were talking, Elara’s phone rang.
Seeing the name, she quickly answered, "Hello, Mr. Fitzwilliam."
On the other end, Zion Fitzwilliam stood by the window, his tall build exuding strength, and upon hearing Elara’s salutation, he spoke in a deep voice, "Didn’t we agree, to call me Zion after this?"
Elara exclaimed slightly awkwardly, "Well, wasn’t that just a temporary measure when meeting your grandmother?"
Zion chuckled, "I think we could call each other like that normally too; a seamless disguise won’t let people discover our fake marriage."
This reasoning was impeccable, and Elara was somewhat convinced, "Alright, I’ll call you Zion from now on."
If she viewed him as a man, she wouldn’t be able to say the name, but treating him as a sister, isn’t it just a nickname between sisters?
Elara adjusted well to the change.
Zara’s expression shifted slightly while driving, glancing at her from the rearview mirror.
Elara asked, "Zion, you called me for something specifically?"
Zion replied, "Nothing much, just asking when you’ll be back."
After a pause, as if afraid of misunderstanding, he explained, "It’s already ten, I’m getting ready to sleep, worried you might not be able to open the door when you return."
Elara smiled, "I’m already on the way back, you sleep first; I have a key."
Upon hearing she was on the way, Zion felt relieved and ended the call with a low "Mm," before hanging up.
Elara tucked her phone away and looked up, meeting Zara’s somewhat amused gaze in the mirror.
