"Kris…"
Finn stepped closer, and Kristen took a step back, her gaze dropping to his collar. "Whose lipstick is on your collar?"
Finn's face went abruptly pale. He tugged at his collar and saw the faint lipstick mark just inside it, his eyes darkening with a troubled, unreadable look.
"Kris, listen to me. Someone must've gotten it on me at the bachelor party last night—it's not what you think…"
—Smack!
Before he could finish, Kristen swung her hand and slapped him hard across the face. "Finn, you bastard!"
Finn realized what this might mean, but didn't dare be certain. He stepped forward to steady her by the shoulders. "Kris, let me explain…"
"Explain what?" Kristen's hand holding the phone trembled uncontrollably. "I've seen everything."
What little color remained drained from Finn's face. Paper-white, his lips moved, but after a long moment, not a single word came out.
Bang!
Kristen hurled the phone straight at the mirror. In an instant, both the phone and the mirror shattered into pieces.
Finn's breath hitched. Panic and urgency flashed through his eyes as he offered a weak, powerless defense. "Kris, it's not what you think…"
Kristen lowered her head and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. With clean, decisive movements, she tore off her veil. "Finn, the wedding is off. We're done."
She tossed the veil aside without a trace of reluctance, lifted her skirt, and walked out.
Whether that dream was real or not, the chat records on the phone alone made it impossible for her to go through with the ceremony.
Finn turned and grabbed her wrist, his low voice edged with plea. "The ceremony is about to start. Let's just get through it first, and I'll give you an explanation. Trust me…"
"I don't." Kristen shook off his hand. Her eyes, red from crying, wavered for a second—but then she thought of what she'd seen on the phone, and of that dream…
A slit windpipe, blood spraying, breath strangled—cold and aching.
"Finn, if one day both she and I were kidnapped, and you could only save one of us, who would you save?" Kristen voiced the ordeal from her dream.
Finn froze, not answering immediately. "I…"
His hesitation gave Kristen all the answer she needed. Disappointment brimmed in her eyes as she turned and walked away.
"Kris…" Finn reacted and moved to chase after her.
Kristen gathered her skirt and ran out of the hotel. There were no cars nearby, and behind her came Finn's voice.
In a rush of desperation, she spotted a black car parked by the curb. There seemed to be someone inside. Without thinking, she pulled the door open and climbed in. "Please drive. Please."
"You—" The driver in the front seat turned back to look at her, then darted a frightened glance at the man seated beside her.
At a slight nod from the man, the driver didn't dare hesitate. He started the engine and merged quickly into the main road.
Kristen saw Finn running out after her, and tears poured down in streams.
Soon, her makeup was a ruined mess. She didn't care—and didn't even notice there was someone sitting beside her—as she broke into loud, unrestrained sobs.
She had no idea how long she cried. Her eyes and throat burned like fire. Forcing herself to rein in her emotions, she rasped, hoarse from crying, "Could you please pull over somewhere? Thank you."
The driver said nothing. When Kristen lifted her head, a slender, fair hand came into view, holding a gray silk handkerchief.
She turned and saw the man's face clearly, and the color drained from her tear-flushed cheeks. Even her breath caught.
Jet-black hair. Pale skin. Striking, deep-set features. His dark eyes were like a bottomless abyss as they rested on her. Seeing that she didn't take the handkerchief, he moved to wipe the tears from the corner of her eyes himself.
Kristen flinched back on instinct, her voice trembling. "M-Mr. Jason…"
Jason—an illustrious noble of the Capital's inner circle, CEO of the Jin Group, head of the Jin family—and a long-time friend of Finn's.
Kristen never would have imagined she'd get into his car, or that he would take out something as personal as a handkerchief to wipe her tears.
Jason's expression was composed. His tall, resolute frame leaned toward her as his broad palm settled at the back of her head, leaving her no room to retreat. The gray silk handkerchief brushed lightly at the corners of her eyes…
A gentle touch, carrying the faint scent of cedar clinging to him, wrapped around Kristen like a quiet cage.
(End of Chapter)