Chapter 99: Chapter 99: Rachel Hayes Is Not Pregnant with Julian Fordham’s Child
Rhys Hawthorne heard the noise outside, and without bothering to dress properly, he threw on a new bathrobe and walked out.
He was afraid that Victoria Monroe would suffer a loss, so much so that he had no time to tidy his appearance.
Thus, when he appeared in public, he was vastly different from his usual self.
The one-size-fits-all bathrobe was much too short on him, revealing his muscular calves.
A large expanse of skin was exposed on his chest, and the belt around his waist was loosely tied.
The hair usually fastened at the back of his head was wet and disheveled, with two strands falling across his forehead.
The only constant was his domineering aura and those sharp eyes.
Julian Fordham was shocked by his appearance, knowing that he had been with Victoria Monroe for many years and should not doubt her.
But how was he to explain the current scene?
He instinctively tightened his arm around Victoria Monroe’s waist, speaking coldly: "Victoria, why is he here?"
Victoria Monroe smelled of shower gel, and Rhys Hawthorne was also taking a bath.
Alone in a room with a man and woman.
Julian Fordham gritted his teeth and asked word by word, "What were you two just doing?"
Clearly, he misunderstood. Rachel Hayes’ appearance had already drained her, and Victoria Monroe didn’t want to expend more energy because of him.
She responded dully: "We’re already divorced. Whatever I do is none of your business. If you don’t let go, I’ll call the police."
Julian Fordham stared intensely at Rhys Hawthorne’s face, his eyes filled with anger. Victoria Monroe could feel his tense body, like a leopard ready to pounce, making her nervous.
She didn’t want to bring trouble to Rhys Hawthorne because of herself.
Currently, Julian Fordham may not have the power to overthrow the Hawthorne Family, but he’s no longer the impoverished boy who was easily bullied.
If it came to a fight, it would just end in mutual destruction.
Rhys Hawthorne spoke slowly before she could, explaining: "Mr. Fordham, it’s late, and Ms. Monroe is currently very weak. She just fell down. If you have any misunderstandings about us, I can explain, but before that, please let her rest first, okay?"
Julian Fordham lowered his eyes to see Victoria Monroe’s reddened eyes and fragile face.
He loosened his grip slightly and held her shoulders, asking: "Did you hurt yourself when you fell?"
One moment he’s frantic, the next caring. His emotions are exceptionally unstable.
Victoria Monroe raised her hand and struck his wrist, "I don’t need you to worry about me."
Her bedmate was not as considerate as this outsider, Rhys Hawthorne.
Julian Fordham was no longer the young man who warmed her hands in the winter.
He was now the high-and-mighty Mr. Fordham, arrogant, habitually dictating terms, no longer concerned with her feelings.
Divorce was the best decision she ever made. Maybe in a few years, he would tire of her, and even the love would be gone.
Victoria Monroe backed out of his embrace and turned to look at Rhys Hawthorne, whose voice was low and steady: "Go rest, I’ll handle this."
With just one sentence, he soothed the tension in Victoria Monroe’s heart.
"Alright."
She believed in Rhys Hawthorne for his maturity and calmness, that he wouldn’t act rashly like a child.
After she returned to her room, Rhys Hawthorne’s expression drastically changed. No longer gentle, his eyes were as cold as a sword, "Mr. Fordham, let’s talk."
The two stood in the corridor, similar in build, their auras fully displayed, making Victoria Monroe somewhat uneasy as she looked out through the window.
She could only see their backs, unable to hear their voices.
Rhys Hawthorne explained the shower incident, and Julian Fordham’s brow relaxed.
The next moment he spoke again: "Mr. Fordham, I admit that I am very fond of Ms. Monroe, and precisely because I like her, I respect her. I won’t do anything until she gets the divorce certificate."
Julian Fordham’s heart tightened again as he met the indifferent yet arrogant eyes of Rhys Hawthorne.
He was only wearing a bathrobe, yet stood with hands behind his back, exuding an intimidating aura, speaking word by word: "The day she gets the certificate will be the day I pursue Ms. Monroe."
"I will not give you this opportunity."
Julian Fordham’s eyes were cold, "I am grateful for your past investment in my company. If it’s about business collaboration, I can talk with you unconditionally. But as for my wife, I will never let go!"
"Mr. Fordham, I wouldn’t have interfered in your marriage originally, but Ms. Monroe’s current physical and mental state isn’t good. I must remind you that if you persist recklessly, you’ll only push her into the abyss of despair!"
"Don’t let the day come when you don’t even have the chance to regret. A real man knows when to hold on and when to let go."
Julian Fordham sneered coldly: "And what about you? After all these years, have you let her go?"
Rhys Hawthorne’s expression was calm: "At least I will keep my love for her in my heart. From start to finish, I will never harm her! I’ve said all I have to say. If you still refuse to let go, your next opponent won’t be Rachel Hayes, nor Ms. Monroe."
His voice was firm: "It will be me. I’ll be the one to play with you."
Victoria Monroe didn’t know what the two were talking about; she couldn’t see Julian Fordham’s expression, only the razor-sharp profile of Rhys Hawthorne.
Very quickly, Rhys Hawthorne turned and blocked Julian Fordham at the door.
Julian Fordham didn’t leave, standing in the wind and snow for a long time, the dim light casting a long shadow of him...
Victoria Monroe lowered the curtain, unable to watch any longer.
She feared she might soften.
Fortunately, Julian Fordham finally quieted down. She lay on the bed, unable to sleep, picked up her phone, and saw the screen full of news about Julian Fordham and Rachel Hayes.
The media had cut out and pasted their photos together, making them look so glaring.
She could roughly guess what happened. It must have been that Julian’s mother eagerly wanted a grandchild and kept Rachel Hayes’ child without telling Julian Fordham.
Julian Fordham was set up by his family.
Rachel Hayes’ ostentatious display of affection was, in reality, the desperation of a cornered dog.
She used the media’s scrutiny to protect herself and her child.
That foolish woman, she played a good hand terribly.
Now, most of Julian Fordham’s assets were in his own hands, and the funds he had left would still need to be invested in the company.
Let alone Rachel Hayes, even Lana Jameson and Autumn Fordham may have to tighten their belts.
Julian Fordham’s decisive methods meant that he would absolutely not tolerate the existence of Rachel Hayes.
She thought she could gamble on a future with the card of having a child, but whether she could even bring this child to term was still in question.
The public eye is a double-edged sword; she would come to know how painful it was when the tides turned against her.
Just thinking of the child carrying Julian Fordham’s blood made her heart ache uncontrollably.
"Knock, knock—"
Rhys Hawthorne gently knocked on the door, "Ms. Monroe, are you asleep?"
"No."
Victoria Monroe expected that if Rhys Hawthorne came to her, it must be something important.
She got out of bed, the man outside the door was already fully dressed, looking nothing like his previous indulgent bathrobe appearance.
"Sorry to disturb your rest. I’ve thought over and over, and there’s something I should tell you."
Victoria Monroe looked up at his serious expression, sensing that what he was about to say was no trivial matter.
She was feeling a bit thirsty, so she opened her thermos and took a sip of water, "What is it?"
Rhys Hawthorne’s Adam’s apple moved, and he politely explained: "I shouldn’t discuss others’ affairs, but since you’re pregnant, worried about your grandmother, and still entangled with Julian Fordham, I don’t want you losing sleep over Rachel Hayes. Forgive my impudence, but it’s highly possible that the child Rachel Hayes is carrying isn’t Julian Fordham’s."
Victoria Monroe didn’t swallow her water before spitting it out: "Pft! What did you say?"