Chapter 8

Cynthia spun around, her eyes locking onto the tall figure of Jonathan as he walked away. A dark storm cloud seemed to roll in wherever he passed. Nearby, people froze, captivated by his intense, cold aura; respect, admiration, and even fear flickered in their eyes—his presence was intimidating.

“No way could it be him,” Cynthia thought. Her “Pretty Boy” wasn’t like that. He radiated warmth like a blazing summer day—wild, reckless, and a bit of a rogue. Every time they met, he flirted without restraint, teased her when she felt vulnerable, and charmed her when she was ready to give up. In bed, he was a master, skillfully playing with her emotions.

Cynthia had often poked his muscle and said, "You're such a temptress."

He smirked, grabbed her chin, and leaned in close to tease, "So, you're the queen waiting to be seduced, huh?"

“How could such a carefree, wild guy be the refined prince from Betrico?” Cynthia tried to convince herself otherwise, but deep down, unease settled in her heart.

As the gift-giving ceremony concluded, guests began to find their seats. Cynthia took hers early, scanning the room for Jonathan but finding nothing. She sat quietly, pulling out her phone and scrolling through her contacts, her finger hovering over the number labeled “Pretty Boy.” She stared at it, but felt a strange shiver, as if she were being watched.

Suddenly, she looked up and locked eyes with a cold stare from the second floor—it was Jonathan. From that distance, however, she couldn’t tell if he was looking at her. Still, her heart raced uncontrollably.

For some reason, she dialed the number. Jonathan remained still, unmoving.

“Thank goodness, it’s not him,” she thought, feeling a wave of relief. Just as she looked down to hang up, the call connected.

At that moment, she glanced up again. Jonathan still stood there, but now he held a phone to his ear.

Cynthia’s heart thumped louder than ever, pounding like a drum. With shaky fingers, she slowly brought her phone to her ear.

A familiar low, icy voice came through: “Speak.”

Cynthia was silent, her gaze fixed on Jonathan, who was also staring at her. After a few agonizing seconds, she hung up. Just as she did, he pocketed his phone.

Cynthia’s heart felt as if it were squeezing tight. “How could this be? Jonathan is the Pretty Boy I’ve kept for three years!” She struggled to calm her racing thoughts and was suddenly carried back to their first meeting.

It was the night Filip took Lilian abroad. Her childhood friend, Naomi Sullivan, had dragged her to the Dark Horse Club. That night, she had drunk a lot, and Naomi had ordered several male models. In a twist of fate, she ended up entangled with one of them.

The next morning, she woke up feeling regretful. But when she saw his almost otherworldly beauty, something stirred inside her. Filip was outside enjoying himself, so why should she wait around? Their marriage wasn’t as perfect as everyone believed.

So, she wrote a check for thirty thousand dollars and teased, “How about I take care of you from now on?”

After that, they rarely returned to the Dark Horse Club—she only went back once. Instead, she gave him a different address—Greenfield Villa.

For the past three years, he had been living in the villa. On top of that, she sent him a check for thirty thousand dollars every month. Whenever she felt like it, she’d visit him late at night—sometimes after midnight. Every time, he found a way to make her smile.

It was almost as if they had a secret deal. They never discussed anything serious, only their feelings. They never asked about each other’s families or backgrounds. All that mattered was the fun they had together.

He was the wild, rebellious side of Cynthia’s life. When she realized this wild ride was getting out of control, she decided it was time to end it.

She had thought they could go back to their separate lives and never see each other again. But then she discovered that the prey she once viewed him as had become a predator, watching her closely. And somehow, she felt like she had already fallen into his trap.

Just then, Filip returned, only to find Cynthia deep in thought. Her usually bright face was pale, as if she had just suffered a terrible blow. Her lively eyes looked empty, lacking their usual sparkle. She looked so vulnerable that he couldn’t help but feel a rush of sympathy.

Filip fought the urge to ask what was wrong, choosing to sit beside her instead. He figured her troubles had to do with Selena and Shirley at the next table. Selena had been Cynthia’s “mother” for twenty years, but now they felt more like strangers.

Dinner began soon after. Filip noticed Cynthia knocking back drink after drink, clearly distressed. When she poured herself a third glass, he finally spoke up. “You’re drinking too much.”

She shot him a teasing smile and replied, her voice flirtatious, “What’s it to you? Worried about me?”

“This is an important occasion. Don’t embarrass the Yates family by getting wasted.” Filip’s tone turned serious.

Cynthia pouted. “You’re so annoying. I just had a breakup. Is it a crime to drink a little to ease the pain?”

Seeing the flush on her cheeks, Filip’s heart raced, but he quickly masked his concern. “Enough with the drama, Cynthia. Even if you pass out right here, I won’t blink an eye.”

Cynthia fell silent and kept drinking. “How could it be Jonathan? Does he even know I’m Filip’s wife? Why didn’t he ever mention his identity during those three years? What does he really want?” These thoughts raced through her mind, nearly driving her crazy.

As dinner progressed, guests moved to the main table to toast. Filip stood up and said, “Come on, let’s toast to Susanna.” He led the way, with Cynthia trailing closely behind, drink in hand.

They soon reached the main table, where a crowd had gathered. Susanna had already left, leaving Jonathan in charge. Many people raised their glasses in a toast, but Jonathan barely took a sip in return. He would drink only a little for the higher-ups.

Finally, Filip seized a moment to approach Jonathan. “Mr. Bennett, I’m Filip Yates. Great to finally meet you. Let me raise my glass in your honor.”

Filip extended his glass with both hands, waiting for Jonathan to meet him halfway. He had noticed that no matter who came up to toast, Jonathan never refused and always clinked glasses.

But in that moment, Jonathan showed no intention of raising his glass. Filip’s arm hung in the air, and an awkward silence settled between them.