"I have a meeting to get to. Let's go," Nathaniel Fu said calmly and turned to leave.
Sylvia stood there, dumbfounded.
Wait, wasn't the whole point of coming here to shop for jewelry? She hadn't even tried anything on—only ran a pointless errand.
It was over before it even began?
Her eyes landed on the pearl hairpin in Celia's hair.
"Celia, where did you get that hairpin? Did my husband buy it for you?" she demanded, her voice rising sharply.
Rage flared in her eyes. "Seriously? I step away for a minute, and you use the opportunity to seduce my husband into buying you pearls? You're shameless, you filthy little tramp!"
Sylvia raised her hand, aiming to slap her across the face.
Celia stood still, coldly watching her. She was ready to let the slap land before reacting.
But before Sylvia's hand could make contact, a strong, cool hand caught her wrist mid-air.
Nathaniel's tall figure stepped between them, shielding Celia behind him.
He protected her.
He actually protected her?
Why? Didn't he like Sylvia? Shouldn't he be siding with her?
Yet his tall, broad-shouldered frame stood firmly in front of her, shielding her completely. Celia felt something stir inside her chest. In all her life, only her grandmother had ever protected her like this. She had long gotten used to fending for herself.
"Honey," Sylvia said, her voice laced with grievance, "Did you really buy that hairpin for her? A princess hairpin?"
Nathaniel looked at her—at the face made stiff and lifeless by cosmetic surgery—and his tone was ice-cold. "Yes, I bought it for her. Got something to say about that?"
With that, he flung her hand away.
Sylvia stumbled back a few steps, nearly falling. Her chest heaved with fury as she stomped her feet.
He said he would buy her a diamond. But now, he had given something even more precious—to Celia—and then defended her.
She was supposed to be Mrs. Fu.
But she didn't dare challenge him any further.
"If you've got nothing else to say, we're leaving." Nathaniel took Celia's hand and led her away.
Sylvia watched the two walk off together. Her expression was twisted with fury.
She had to find a way to sleep with Nathaniel. That was the only way she'd regain control.
Pulling out her phone, she called her cosmetic surgeon.
Celia had a unique peach-blossom-shaped birthmark on her shoulder.
Sylvia was going to get an exact replica.
Celia followed Nathaniel out of the mall. Her soft, boneless hand was still wrapped in his warm, firm palm. The heat of his touch gave her an odd sense of comfort… and something dangerously close to dependency.
She suddenly stopped and gently pulled her hand out of his.
His palm felt empty. Nathaniel turned back to look at her.
"Are you alright?"
No. Everything was far from alright.
Sylvia was furious now—so angry she'd never tell her the whereabouts of the jade pendant. Which meant… last night had been for nothing.
Things were spiraling out of control.
She stared at him, confused. "Why did you protect me just now?"
Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. "Because you're my woman. Why wouldn't I?"
He was referring to the night he'd forced himself on her.
As if that one act gave him full claim over her.
That, and the hairpin—that was all she was worth to him?
Celia lowered her gaze and murmured, "I'm not… your woman."
Nathaniel stepped forward, long legs closing the gap between them.
"Then whose woman are you? My nephew's?"
No.
She hadn't even gone out with Julian that night. She'd been at the hospital, unwell.
Celia parted her lips, wanting to explain, but Nathaniel cut her off.
"Don't get involved with my nephew," he said, his voice low and firm. "I don't share women."