Matthew seemed unconcerned about whether Lionel believed him or not, continuing to stare at the detonator in his hand: "If you want to confirm whether she's Edsel Tremblay's daughter or not, it's not difficult... kill her. If the Tremblay family doesn't seek revenge, then you win your bet."
Lionel's hand holding the gun trembled even more. He couldn't deny that his determination was wavering.
If the girl had no connection to the Tremblay family, that would be alright. But what if she was really Edsel Tremblay's daughter? Just one wrong decision, and he could bury himself and everyone associated with him.
Just as he was still indecisive, someone stealthily snuck up behind him, physically overpowering him and twisting his arms behind his back. He hastily pulled the trigger, but the gun was no longer pointed at Flora's temple.
"You...you..." He grinded his teeth in anger, wishing he could tear Matthew apart.
But at this point, Matthew's attention was elsewhere, focusing on the foolish secretary who knowingly drank the tainted alcohol.
"Boss, I have a headache..." Flora woke up on the plane, the first image that hit her was the icy man sitting beside her, speaking on his phone.
"No longer calling me Matthew?" Matthew responded with a faint smile.
In fact, he preferred hearing her call his full name, it was warmer than the cold formality of "boss".
Flora pursed her lips and shook her head: "Can I borrow your phone? I want to call the kids..."
"No." The man refused instantly: "No phone calls are allowed on the plane."
Flora remained silent. Her eyes were firmly fixed on the mobile phone in his hand. He'd just ended a call moments ago, yet dared to claim that it was forbidden to use the phone on an airplane. Was he trying to deceive a child?
Their silent tug-of-war was waged through shared glances. After a significant pause, Flora sighed deeply.
"Why not just drop me off midway? I'm exhausted, I want to go home to my kids."
The man next to her turned to look at her as if she were an alien species: "Are you sure about that? We're on an airplane, do you want me to toss you into the ocean to befriend the sharks?"
Women are such irrational creatures that no one can truly understand. As of today, Matthew has learned that lesson the hard way.
"Come home with me later. My friend is visiting; you can cook us a meal... then I'll let you go. Consider your debt paid."
Flora pouted a bit. He was going back on his word. Before boarding the plane, he had said that after this trip, her debt would be settled. Now he wanted her to cook an additional meal. But her curiosity was aroused...
"How can your friend just come over to your house for a meal?"
She remembered his housekeeper saying that he did not like to bring people home.
"The head of H&H - Patrick Jones."
Cold shivers ran down her spine. Flora's eyes widened in surprise. Patrick Jones... She was not prepared to meet him again.
"What? Your friend is... Jones... Patrick Jones?" Flora stuttered nervously.
Her palms were sweaty, she reminded herself not to overreact but found it impossible to control. Her limbs felt like jelly, at this point, she was contemplating excuses to avoid going to Matthew's house.
The man sitting next to her saw her peculiar behavior, he leaned in, dominating her personal space, almost as if he intended to pin her down.
"Why are you so tense?" He scrutinized Flora: "Do you know Patrick Jones?"
Flora quickly shook her head, evading his penetrating gaze: "No... not at all... It's just that... the other day he came to your office and teased me the moment he stepped in, so I simply dislike him."
Matthew frowned slightly. Her explanation didn't seem odd, but her behavior was definitely unusual.
"You should know, I detest liars the most. Especially my woman, if you lie, you'll have to pay a hefty price."
"I'm not your woman..." She scooted back a bit, stopping only when her back hit the cushion. The man in front continued to close the distance.
For some reason, Flora's current attitude made Matthew incredibly frustrated. He'd thought, after all that had transpired, after she had witnessed his care and concern for both her and her family, she would understand his feelings.
But no, from start to finish, it was only him understanding his own emotions.
He leaned down, his cold lips gently touching hers. The woman underneath was seemingly bewildered and couldn't push him away in time, soon being swept away by the intoxicating vortex of his kiss.
"If you don't want to... then you don't have to go... alright? But first, you have to behave." He parted his lips, his dark eyes peering down at Flora.
Once again, he bent down, gently and deliberately biting her neck, leaving a quite noticeable mark. It was as if he were punishing her for her improper demeanor.
Upon disembarking the plane, Matthew instructed the driver to first take him to his mansion, and then to deliver Flora to the hotel.
As the vehicle came to a halt, seeing the glimmering sign that read "ROYAL INVITE Hotel", she widened her eyes in shock, hastily telling the driver: "Could we switch to another hotel? I don't want to stay in this one."
This hotel, it harbored her life's most painful and humiliating memories. She would never forget waking up, her whole body aching, hobbling to the reception desk only to be met with the receptionist's reply: "We cannot find any record."
The driver had already exited the vehicle, heading straight inside. Flora bit her lip, reluctantly following, but her hand gripped tightly on the hem of her dress.
"Are you Miss Flora? This is your room key." The receptionist greeted her courteously with a smile, handing her the keycard: "Room 2109, the elevators are right over there. If you have luggage, our hotel staff will help you take it to your room."
Flora stared blankly at the room key in her hand. Such an eerie coincidence? Everything since she got off the car was a perfect echo of what had happened seven years ago. It was a memory she least wished to recall in her life.
She clutched the room key in her hand, then suddenly stared straight into the receptionist's eyes: "Could you help me change rooms?"
"Is there a problem? Room 2109 is the best room in the hotel, it's also Matthew's special room. He specifically requested that you stay in that room."
The receptionist chuckled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. Seeing that Flora seemed unsure, she continued: "I've worked here for almost ten years, and this is Matthew's private room. No one else has ever spent the night here."
What she meant was that the beautiful lady before her was unaware of her good fortune. Despite receiving such preferential treatment, she still asked for a room change, the receptionist couldn't fathom her reasoning.
Flora furrowed her brows, standing silent. She suddenly considered a highly unlikely possibility, yet given the circumstances, it was the most plausible one.
Could the man from seven years ago... have been Matthew?
She must investigate thoroughly, she had to discover the truth behind all this. With that thought, she slipped the room key into her jacket pocket, flashing a smile at the hotel receptionist.
"Thank you, I won't change rooms."
The suite on the twenty-first floor of the city center's most luxurious hotel was arranged exactly as it had been seven years ago. As she stepped into the room, Flora trembled uncontrollably. Her heart pounded louder than ever, thudding rhythmically in her chest.
At this moment, the only thing she wanted to know was whether the man from that year was Matthew or not.
The best way to discover the truth, perhaps, would start with the man himself. She glanced at her small suitcase nestled in a corner of the room, hesitated for a moment, then unlocked it, pulling out a long dress.
"So, big brother, have you taken your beloved wife back from her trip?"
Patrick quirked a smile, his fingertips tapping rhythmically on the table, seemingly delighted to have the opportunity to mock the man before him.
Contrary to his expectations, the man on the receiving end of his taunts merely spared him a languid glance, his lips curling disdainfully: "So what?"
"So what indeed? Ah...you're admitting it then." Patrick leaned forward, his face brightening with interest: "Don't tell me you've actually fallen for her, have you? For such a callous, emotionless man who enjoys toying with women's hearts like yourself to fall, that's something. Or...is it because you fancy her child and want to bring the mother home to raise her too?"
Matthew furrowed his brows: "Shut up."
At that moment, he wished he could stuff a shoe in Patrick's mouth to silence his nonsense.
The phone on the table suddenly rang, a familiar number flashing on the screen, saved under the name "Secretary". Patrick peeked at the screen of his phone, whistling teasingly:
"Playing quite the love game, aren't we... Even in intimate moments, you call each other 'Director' and 'Secretary'?"
Upon receiving a warning glare from Matthew, he mimed zipping his lips and fell silent. The man across casually lifted the phone to his ear, uttered a single "Hello".
Whatever was said on the other end caused him to abruptly stand from his chair and hurriedly say: "I'll be right there."
Hanging up, Matthew looked at the man lounging next to him, coolly stating:
"You eat by yourself, I have to go out for a bit."
Just now, Flora had called him, saying that she was suffering from a sudden and severe headache, worse than when she had first boarded the plane. Fearing that the poison he had given her was having some aftereffects, he hadn't thought twice before promising to be there immediately.
He had brought her there, he had poisoned her. He felt a sense of responsibility towards his naive secretary.
Seeing the usually composed and laid-back man hastily dash out of the house just because of a phone call, Patrick shook his head with a wry smile: "Love makes you forget your friends indeed... But at least she has the looks to be forgotten for. Unlike me..."
When would he find someone who would make his heart flutter?
Flora adjusted the hem of her long dress, a little uneasy. Dressing up provocatively and waiting in a hotel room for a man was something she hadn't done in seven years.
For years, she had been frugal, saving for the future of her children. Today, she dressed up like this for the same reason - for the future of her two children and for her own future.
She wanted to confirm whether the man that night was Matthew or not. More accurately, she wanted to confirm whether he was the father of her child or not.
Her hands slightly trembled, her fingers interweaving tightly, her tension visibly manifesting itself.
She strained her ears to listen, it seemed like there was the sound of a card being used outside. Her cheeks flushed red hot as she glanced towards the door, then quickly jumped onto the bed, pulling the blanket all the way up to her chin.