Despite the curiosity surrounding the incident, no one dared to challenge the Ford family. Ahn City, with its deep-rooted history and prominent wealthy families, was a place where any powerful family could easily dominate the city. Weston’s wealth was on a national scale, and suppressing the incident was no challenge for him.
At the family manor, a white Bentley slowly rolled through the gates.
Inside, Weston was immersed in documents while Guinevere sat next to him. Although they were physically close—just inches apart—it felt like there was an immense distance between them. Guinevere had known Weston all her life, and she understood that he was a man of few emotions, one who rarely allowed his feelings to show.
The events of that day were still fresh in her mind. Weston had chosen her, just as she’d always hoped. And with Stella no longer a threat, Guinevere should have felt at ease. Yet, despite her victory, a sense of unease lingered within her.
Whenever her mind wandered, she would remember the panic she’d seen in Weston’s eyes when he witnessed Stella’s fall. She couldn’t forget how he had lost control, how his emotions seemed to collapse, and how he called out Stella’s name in a voice filled with desperation. Weston, the man she had always known to be composed, had seemed like a different person in that moment.
Guinevere also couldn’t shake the worry that had taken root in her heart—the fear that Weston might discover the truth. She had been careful with her actions, but she knew how sharp Weston’s instincts were. The guilt of knowing that the kidnappers were connected to her ate away at her. She feared that, one day, Weston might uncover the details.
When Stella had fallen, the air cushion hadn’t been fully inflated. The kidnapper hadn’t been so lucky—he was now in the intensive care unit, his survival uncertain. To make the situation seem more convincing, Guinevere had only discussed the details with the gang leader. The kidnapper who had held her hostage had no idea about the deal; only the leader knew. If the leader died in the hospital, Weston would never uncover the truth.
With that thought, Guinevere’s expression softened.
The car gradually slowed as they neared the manor. Guinevere turned to look at Weston’s handsome profile. “Weston… We’ll be parents in one month.”
Their lives seemed to be in a moment of peace, the name “Stella” no longer holding any weight between them. But Guinevere couldn’t completely relax. She clung to the baby as a way to keep Weston close, using the impending parenthood to ensure his attention.
Weston didn’t react much. He merely gave a low grunt in response while continuing to scan the documents in his hand. “Don’t worry. The doctor has already examined you, and everything’s normal.”
“I’m not worried about me, I just…” Guinevere paused, leaning against his arm softly. “Weston, why do I get the feeling that you’re very far away from me?”
His fingers paused for a brief moment, but he didn’t look up. “What kind of distance do you consider close?”
Guinevere smiled gently, but there was an edge of concern in her voice. “I didn’t mean physical distance. I mean… your heart feels very far away.”
Weston glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “You’ll experience overthinking during pregnancy. It’s normal.”
Without pausing, he turned the page in his file. As they neared the manor, he closed the file and said, “If you feel unwell, let the doctor know. I’ve been busy lately, so I can’t be there for you all the time.” With that, he quickly exited the car.
Guinevere watched him walk away, her unease deepening. Was he truly busy with work, or was there something else that had drawn him away from her?
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