"Did you call a doctor yet?... Let me see..." Matthew, upon entering the room, saw his secretary lying on the bed, the blanket pulled up tightly around her.
A fleeting thought brushed through his mind, as though he had witnessed a similar scene somewhere before. But the image passed too quickly for him to grasp. His concern for the woman lying on the bed had already consumed his attention, leaving no room for unrelated memories.
His broad hand gently touched her forehead, the heat transferring to his palm. Matthew sighed:
"It's too hot!"
He tilted his head, pushing aside the unruly hair that veiled Flora's beautiful face, revealing a countenance flushed like a ripe tomato.
Her eyebrows knitted tightly together, her breath coming in uneven gasps. Clearly, she was in discomfort. Even with her face burning so hot, she wouldn't let go of the blanket.
Matthew pulled the thin blanket aside: "Don't cover yourself so tightly, you'll suffocate... Why are you dressed like this?"
The thin dress accentuated the smooth curves of her body. The smooth, bare back was left exposed, inciting an urge to reach out and caress.
Matthew's eyes darkened, his lips dry. His voice, huskier than usual, queried:
"Dressing provocatively like this... is it a hint for me? Hmm... You think I'm not assertive enough?"
If she went to such lengths to prepare, naturally, he couldn't refuse. He smirked, leaning forward, his warm breath grazing her smooth back, his lips barely brushing against her skin.
"What... what are you doing?" Flora stuttered, gripping the bed sheets.
"Still asking what I'm doing? Isn't this what you wanted?" Matthew chuckled lightly: "I didn't expect you to be into this sort of thing."
His gaze fell on an unopened bottle of wine on the table. Leaving Flora, he walked towards the bottle, uncorked it, and poured a glass.
To replicate the circumstances of that night as closely as possible, Flora had also prepared a bottle of wine. Little did she expect, it made him think she prepared the wine for... some other intention.
Watching him casually uncork the bottle, pour a glass, she clenched her fists, contemplating escape. She didn't want to test him this way anymore, could she make another choice?
Whether to stop was no longer something she could decide.
"It's my fault... for not satisfying your desires in time..." Matthew held the glass of shimmering red wine, approaching the bed. Then, to Flora's disbelief, he poured the wine onto her back.
Her smooth, fair skin, now wet from the red wine, glistened enticingly under the light.
Matthew leaned in again, inhaling the strong, aromatic scent of the wine on Flora's back, hearing her weak plea: "Don't... don't... CEO..."
Neither too hard nor too gentle, he bit into her back.
"Say my name."
"Matthew... Matthew... don't do this... We..." Flora gasped, her mind not entirely clear.
However, she still remembered her purpose of calling Matthew here. She bit her lip, using that same weak, sobbing voice to ask: "Matthew... is it true... that only you are in this room?"
"Mmm..."
Was that a confirmation or denial? Flora hung her head. Was this man teasing her again? He wouldn't even give her a straight answer.
"I have always stayed at this hotel, before moving to the villa... it must have been around ten years." I mused.
At these words, all strength seemed to seep out of Flora's limbs. After seven years, she had finally figured out who the man from that night was. A thousand thoughts whirled about in her head, yet she remained uncertain about what to say to him. She couldn't outright state that the two kids were ours.
Just then, he abruptly let her go. It seemed as if his reason had returned.
"You... you just plan to walk away like this?" Before Flora could gather her thoughts, she blurted out: "You cannot just leave... You cannot avoid taking responsibility! Wait... don't go... We need to talk!"
Matthew turned back, furrowing his brows at her. Responsibility? He had thought she would be different, not like the other women who flocked to him for his wealth.
It seemed he had held her in too high a regard.
"Responsibility, huh? Fine... How much do you want?"
"You... What do you mean?" Flora couldn't discern the underlying emotion in his gaze, but she could sense his mood plummeting precipitously.
Matthew smirked: "I asked you, how much money do you want? After all the effort and energy you've put into this charade, isn't it all for my wealth? If I had known... you wouldn't have had to act, you could have just told me outright."
To be so direct with him would render her no different from his other mistresses outside, viewing her body as a mere commodity to barter with, money for favors exchanged.
Flora's eyes welled up with tears. She could hardly believe her ears.
"Do you see me as a woman who would sell herself for money?"
Matthew laughed bitterly: "Isn't it the truth? Otherwise... a woman with two children, what right does she have to demand responsibility from me?"
He concealed his heartache deep within his eyes. He had hoped she would be the one worthy of his love, but now he was disillusioned. If all her previous behaviors were just pretenses, then this woman was far more dangerous than others.
His words, cold and scornful, were like sharp blades stabbing into his own bleeding heart.
He left a blank check and stormed out of the hotel room. When the door shut behind him, she was left alone in a room where the air seemed to solidify, her tears flowing unrestrained.
She grabbed her cell phone and dialed Layla - her closest friend, the only one she thought she could share her predicament with at this moment.
"Flora? Do you need something? If it's not important, I have to go... I'm trying on wedding dresses."
Trying on wedding dresses? Flora's heart missed a beat. Why was her best friend trying on wedding dresses, and she knew nothing about it? Who exactly... was she marrying?
Before she could ask, Layla quickly hung up the phone.
"Who was that? I heard you saying..." A trendy ombre-haired girl adjusted Layla's dress hem, asked with a puzzled look.
"Flora, it was Flora."
The ombre-haired girl's eyes widened in surprise, she quickly queried: "You mean Flora? She's back? Wait... does she know... who you're marrying?"
Layla put her phone aside, flipped her short hair, and started to converse with her companion.
"Help me adjust this dress strap, would you?"
"You haven't answered me yet." The girl with the ombre hair slightly furrowed her brow: "Back in the day, out of all of us, you were the closest to Flora. You..."
Layla pursed her lips, bowing her head in silence. Love, after all, has its own peculiar logic, and even Layla couldn't figure out how to hold on to this intricate emotion. Besides, since Flora had discarded that man, wasn't it justifiable for her, her best friend, to pursue him?
The ombre-haired girl sighed deeply, tightening the wedding dress strap behind Layla. This evasive behavior...
"Do whatever you want. You two were so close, Patrick Jones was even Flora's fiancé once. What you're doing now is basically stealing your best friend's ex... Love affairs shouldn't be carried out in such a clandestine manner."
Layla adjusted her veil nonchalantly and said: "What's wrong with that? If he's not needed by her, I need him. I'm not stealing anyone's lover. Morela, don't you think you're meddling too much?"
Frowning, Morela instinctively tugged at the ends of her pink-ombre hair.
"An ex-boyfriend is like second-hand goods, and yet you pick him up..."
"You can't talk about him like that!" Layla gripped her dress tightly, raising her voice: "He's a great guy, it was Flora who didn't appreciate him. Only after he discarded her did I take a step forward. I did nothing wrong... If you insist that I did, then leave. I don't need your help anymore."
The wedding dress fitting session transformed into a quarrel scene between two best friends, due to the appearance of a third person in their friend group. Neither would back down, and it ended in a sour separation.
Morela barely managed to get Flora's number from Layla.
"This silly girl, cutting me off over such a minor thing. Does she even consider me a good friend?" Hiding her sorrows behind a radiant smile, Morela reached out and pinched the cheek of her long-lost friend.
Seeing her friend so happy, Flora also smiled. That's how best friends are, no matter how many years have passed, they're still as joyful as in the beginning.
"I'm sorry, I really am... Weren't you supposed to go for a dress fitting with Layla? Where is she?"
The mention of Layla's dress fitting made Morela sigh. She waved her hand dismissively, grumbling: "Forget about her."
Deceiving a good friend for a man is an unforgivable sin. Compared to Layla's wedding, she was more concerned about the life of her long-lost friend.
Flora didn't hide anything, recounting everything candidly. The life of a single mother is challenging. Luckily, she had her mother by her side and two well-behaved kids who eased her struggles.
"Flora..." Morela hesitated a bit, but decided to speak her mind: "Do you plan to live like this forever? As the kids grow up, they'll need a male figure to guide them. You can't play the roles of both father and mother. Also, when they grow up, they won't be as easy to fool as when they were little. How are you going to answer their questions?"
This worry was reasonable. Everyone wants a mother and a father, to live in a complete family. When the kids will start looking for their father, it will be a significant challenge for Flora.
Flora bowed her head, sipping her bitter coffee. Her gaze turned downward, her thoughts inscrutable.
"Actually, I've found the children's father."
"What? You've found their father?" Morela's eyes widened, intensely fixated on her best friend sitting across from her. She seemed ready to sprint across the room, frantically shaking her friend to kickstart her brain into normal functioning.
"Have they met yet? Does he know he has two adorable children?"
Faced with Morela's expectant gaze, Flora slowly shook her head. The children's father was Matthew, a fact she had only recently confirmed. However, her relationship with him now could be aptly described by the term "a complete mess".
How could she possibly reveal the truth to him?
"Are you nuts? How pitiful those kids are without a father..."
A tear streamed from Flora's brown eyes: "I know. I too am a child without a father, so of course, I understand, but... He threw me a paycheck. He sees me as the type of woman who sells herself for money."
She didn't even have time to tell him anything, didn't get the chance to let him know those two kids were his own flesh and blood. Everything was over, the faint lingering sentiment between them had reached its terminus.
Morela shook her head: "No way. You can't give up that easily! If he wants to abandon you, are you just going to let him? You have to stand up, fight back, assert your own rights."
Morela felt deeply indignant for her best friend. On what grounds did that irresponsible man dare to bed another's daughter, only to reject responsibility afterward? Even worse, he had the audacity to use money to humiliate her friend. It was only Flora who had to suffer such disadvantages.
As if moved by Morela's words, Flora hung her head, lost in hazy thoughts. Her hand, holding the spoon, kept stirring her coffee.
"You're right. I can't give up like this, for me, and for my children."