Lin Xuyan started the car, frowning slightly as he glanced at me. "The car seems fine…"
I feigned confusion. "But it wouldn't start earlier. Maybe you could take it for a quick drive to check? It might act up again."
He nodded and turned the key. Through the rearview mirror, I caught Zhou Yuqing's stunned expression as the car pulled away, her furious shouts lost to the hum of the engine.
Inside the white Porsche, the scent of new leather and gardenia perfume mingled in the air. Sunlight streamed through the sunroof, illuminating Lin Xuyan's face—the same face that had once haunted my dreams, now only stirring waves of visceral disgust.
"Seems perfectly fine to me," he mused, fingers tapping the steering wheel.
I blinked innocently. "How strange. It refused to start before." Then, deliberately shifting the topic, I added, "You and Miss Zhou seem… close?"
His fingers stilled for a fraction of a second before he flashed a careless smile. "Just friends."
"Friends?" I chuckled, tracing the edge of the car window with a fingertip. "The way she looked at you suggested something more."
As the Porsche rounded a corner, dappled shadows flickered across his face. I noted the subtle bob of his Adam's apple, the way his grip tightened on the wheel.
"You're reading too much into it," he said with a dry laugh. "I'm just friendly by nature. Maybe she misunderstood."
I let out a slow, deliberate "Oh," stretching the syllable until the air between us grew thick. Only the soft whir of the AC filled the silence.
Then, as if making casual conversation: "So… are you married, Mr. Lin?" My finger idly swiped across my phone screen.
His expression froze. I caught the minute dilation of his pupils, the twitch at the corner of his mouth. The Porsche veered slightly before he jerked it back on course.
"I… was," he said, voice dropping into practiced sorrow. "My wife—my first love—she…" He drew a shaky breath. "Passed away. An accident. It's a pain I'll carry forever."
My nails dug into my palms, the sharp pain anchoring my mask of sympathy.
What a performance. The tremor in his voice, the reddening rims of his eyes, even the calculated swallow—every detail meticulously crafted. The old me had fallen for this act, had believed in his remorse even when catching him red-handed.
"I'm so sorry," I murmured. "You must have loved her deeply."
He seized the cue like a seasoned actor. "She was pure-hearted. Gave up her dreams to support my career." His voice cracked. "If only I hadn't let her go to that prenatal checkup alone—"
Prenatal checkup? I nearly laughed aloud. In our past life, he'd been bedding Zhou Yuqing throughout my pregnancy. My death—no longer seeming accidental.
"Checkup?" I forced wide-eyed concern. "You had a child?"
"Gone. Both of them." He shook his head, the picture of anguish. "Sometimes I wish it had been me instead."
My reflection in the rearview mirror showed eyes like ice. The absurdity of this charade was almost poetic—this man, recycling the same lies that had once ensnared me.
"You're remarkably loyal," I said softly, layering just enough admiration to stroke his ego. "Rare in men these days."
Emboldened, he leaned into the role. "I've never moved on… but your words comfort me."
Then his hand landed on my knee.
The contact sent a jolt of revulsion through me, skin crawling as if scalded. I resisted the urge to recoil, instead shifting to "adjust my hair" with graceful detachment.
"Mr. Lin," I smiled, letting frost seep into my gaze, "I believe Miss Zhou is waiting."