Celia sat stiffly, the strawberry ice cream in her hand suddenly feeling like a hot potato—awkward to throw away, yet even more awkward to keep holding.
Left with no choice, she began to eat.
In the driver's seat, Nathaniel Fu glanced at the rearview mirror. The girl held the cone delicately, her tongue brushing against the melting pink cream as she took small bites. His throat moved, and a storm brewed in his dark eyes—so cold it could freeze.
Just then, Zane leaned over from the backseat, grinning. "Celia, is that ice cream any good? Let me have a bite."
Before Celia could respond, a sharp screech tore through the air as Nathaniel slammed on the brakes. The Rolls-Royce Phantom jerked to a stop on the side of the road.
Caught off guard by the sudden stop, Zane's face slammed right into the cone. In an instant, his face was a mess of pink cream—like a clown at a circus.
"Damn, Uncle! What the hell was that?!" Zane cried out.
Nathaniel spoke indifferently, "There was a truck ahead. I didn't see it. Get out and wash your face."
Zane had no choice but to exit the car. As he opened the door, Nathaniel added coldly, "And take that ice cream with you. Don't make a mess in my car."
"Oh. Right." Zane took the cone, then gently pulled out a few tissues to help wipe Celia's hands. "Here, Celia. I'll be right back after I clean up."
Now the car was down to three people.
The silence was heavy, pressing. Celia felt suffocated by the tension. She instinctively reached for the car door, wanting to escape too.
But just as her fingers touched the handle, Nathaniel's voice cut through the air. "You're still not broken up with my nephew?"
Celia froze, turning her gaze to the man in front.
Nathaniel lit a cigarette, his expression hidden behind a slow exhale of smoke. The soft glow of the lighter briefly illuminated the sharp angles of his face before fading into the dim car interior.
"I haven't… not yet," Celia said in a low voice.
From the front passenger seat, Sylvia immediately chimed in with a sweet voice, "Honey, Celia and Zane are still totally in love. You saw how much Zane likes her, right? Of course they're still together. Celia is your nephew's girlfriend, after all."
Nathaniel cracked open the window, letting in the night air. He rested his arm on the frame, one hand loosely holding his cigarette as he stared ahead.
Then he let out a cold chuckle. "Hmph."
Celia looked at him, but he didn't meet her eyes. Instead, his gaze remained fixed in the rearview mirror, and his voice came out cool and mocking.
"A wild dog with no gratitude... can't be tamed."
The words hit like a slap.
No matter how much you fed it, how much you cared for it—it would always run. Never loyal, never grateful.
What was the point in keeping something like that?
Waste of time. Waste of money. Waste of effort.
Anything else would've been better than her.
Celia felt her heart tighten as if pierced by invisible thorns. The pain, sharp and spreading, crept from her chest to every corner of her body.
She turned her face toward the window, blinking back the sting in her eyes.
Just then, Zane got back in the car. "All good now, Uncle. Let's go home."
Nathaniel flicked the ashes from his cigarette. "Why rush home? The night's just beginning. We're checking into a hotel."
A hotel?
Celia's heart sank. Something told her this night wouldn't end well.
This night… would be very long.
They arrived at the Fu Hotel. As they stepped into the lobby, the hotel manager quickly came forward, "Good evening, Mr. Fu. How many rooms should we prepare?"
Before Nathaniel could answer, Sylvia grabbed his arm and said sweetly, "Let's share a room, honey."
Nathaniel didn't object.
He stepped into the elevator with long, confident strides, and Sylvia glanced back at Celia with a gloating smile. "Celia, your room is next to ours tonight. If we're a bit loud... I hope you won't mind."