Only after hearing Guinevere’s words did Weston finally set down the work in his hands and face her. “If you went alone, your parents would show up the next day,” he said calmly.
At that, her fist clenched tightly. “So, you’re only with me because of my parents?” she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.
Weston knew she was sensitive, and he had to tread carefully. Seeing the pale expression on her face, he sighed softly. “Don’t overthink things.”
Guinevere shut her eyes, trying to steady herself. As long as Weston was willing to offer her even a fraction of his gentleness, she could deceive herself into believing everything was fine. But then, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I heard you’ve been going to Lowe Garden lately,” she said, her voice laced with a hint of accusation.
Weston froze for a moment. Lowe Garden—a place he’d never shown interest in before. Guinevere’s suspicions were not without reason. Everyone knew what kind of place it was. It wasn’t like The Dog House, which catered to all kinds of people—wealthy business moguls and low-wage workers alike. Lowe Garden, however, was where the affluent, powerful men went for a very different kind of entertainment.
She had seen a woman there. Belle. And the worst part? Belle reminded her so much of Stella.
Guinevere had never asked Weston about his whereabouts before, but now… things had changed.
She couldn’t help herself. “You’ve been there, haven’t you?”
Weston looked at her, his gaze steady, almost unreadable. “I went there for work,” he answered without hesitation.
She knew he wasn’t being truthful. But hearing him lie so easily made her blood boil. “You used to hate socializing,” she snapped.
“That was in the past. People change,” he replied coolly.
A pang of disappointment hit her. “Have you changed, Weston? Has your feeling for me changed?”
Her voice quivered, and she waited, holding her breath for his response. The silence stretched on before Weston finally took off his glasses and rubbed his forehead. “No,” he said, his voice soft but firm.
Her body relaxed as a sigh of relief escaped her lips. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “As long as your feelings haven’t changed…”
She shut her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. Weston gazed out the window, the flashing streetlights reflecting in his dark eyes, his mind clearly elsewhere.
By the time Guinevere finished her treatment, it was already afternoon. Weston glanced at his phone and stood up. “I have some things to take care of at the company. I’ll have the driver take you home first.”
She seemed calmer now, perhaps because the wedding date was finally set. They had agreed to get their marriage certificate next week, and with that, a sense of hope had returned to her. She nodded, more at ease. “Okay. Come home early.”
“I might not come home tonight.”
“Why?”
“Ben will explain it to you,” Weston answered, signaling to the driver. As the car pulled away, he was already lost in thought.
Guinevere still had things she wanted to say, but by the time she could open her mouth, he was gone. She stared out the window, her expression darkening.
Once the car had vanished from sight, a sinister gleam flickered in her eyes. She took a slow, steadying breath before turning to the driver. “Is he going to Lowe Garden again?”
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