Weston stepped out onto the balcony and picked up the phone. Guinevere’s voice came through, fragile and uncertain.
“Weston, where are you?”
He didn’t hesitate to ask, his tone direct. “What’s going on?”
She was quiet for a moment before speaking again, her voice wavering. “Are you in Anh City? I need to see you…”
Her tone didn’t carry the usual edge of confidence. It sounded like she was unraveling. Weston’s irritation flared. “Just tell me directly if something’s wrong.”
There was a long pause before she spoke again, her voice carrying a bitter edge. “Was it all part of your plan? Bring me to do a psychological test, make me unstable, and then delay our marriage?”
He didn’t respond immediately, but his heavy breathing filtered through the phone, betraying his annoyance.
Guinevere’s voice cracked as she continued, her eyes likely red from crying. “Do you really have to do this to me?”
“Do you remember everything?” Weston’s voice carried a sharpness, his emotions slipping through the cracks.
“Yes, I remember. That night…” Her words broke off as she finally let the grief overwhelm her. She sobbed, “How could you do this to me? I can only have one child in my whole life, how could you…”
The memory was too much for her to bear. Every time she looked at Zachary, the pain clawed at her, and resentment burned within her. Why? She wanted so badly to have a child with the man she loved, but fate had been cruel.
“Since you remember everything…” Weston’s voice grew colder, as if the last remnants of empathy were slipping away. “If you want compensation, I’ll do what I can…”
“I don’t want compensation!” Guinevere suddenly snapped, her voice filled with desperation. “You promised me you’d marry me! You and your father ruined everything! Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell everyone? What will your mother say when she finds out Zachary’s true identity?”
Weston’s voice cut through the chaos. “Guinevere.” He said her name sharply, a warning in his tone. “Don’t push me.”
“What did you promise me? I could keep this a secret forever if you just marry me. I’ve loved you for so long…” She trailed off, but Weston cut her off mercilessly.
“Since you remember everything, I don’t need to remind you who caused all this in the first place.”
Before she could retort, he hung up the phone, his expression darkening. The storm of emotions inside him made his face look as if it could freeze over. After a moment, he dialed another number.
The voice on the other end picked up quickly. “Weston, didn’t we take care of this? Why is she remembering everything now?” Chris’s frustration was evident.
Weston rubbed his forehead, irritation flashing across his face. “Instead of blaming me, why don’t you figure out how to fix it?”
Chris, known for his public persona as a loving, family-oriented man, was far from that in private.
“If you hadn’t brought her to that damn psychologist, none of this would have happened!” Weston’s voice was ice-cold, mocking. “You’re the one who caused all this mess. I’m just trying to clean it up.”
He emphasized the word “father,” letting it hang in the air like a weight.
There was silence on the other end before Chris responded, his voice laced with fatigue. “I’ll handle it.”
After hanging up, Weston stood still for a moment, his mind whirling. His gaze turned to the distant view before he felt a pressure in his temples.
He turned around, startled to see Stella standing behind him. She had appeared without him noticing, her eyes dull and unfocused as she stared at him.
Her hand rested on the window, her gaze distant, almost as if she were lost in thought.
Weston hesitated for a moment before speaking softly, his voice barely above a murmur. “How much did you hear?”
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