Chapter 2 Warning

The car's interior was quiet, except for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the muffled sound of rain outside.

The leather seats were spacious and comfortable, filled with a crisp, woody scent that sharply contrasted with the strong cologne Benjamin usually wore.

Ophelia leaned back in her seat, feeling cold and drenched, her heart even colder.

She turned her head to watch the city lights distorted by the rain as they sped past the window, saying nothing.

William remained silent too, focused on driving.

His hands, long and strong, rested casually on the steering wheel.

His profile, highlighted by the dim light inside the car, looked stern and unyielding.

The silence grew, filled with an awkward, indescribable tension.

Ophelia couldn't understand why he had shown up or why he had helped her.

The White family's internal dynamics were a well-known secret in their social circle. Was William's appearance a coincidence, or did it carry some hidden meaning?

"Where to go?" He finally broke the silence, his voice steady and emotionless.

When Ophelia mentioned "Briarwood Apartments," she thought she noticed a slight pause, but he quickly resumed his usual demeanor.

"Okay." He nodded and set the GPS.

Silence ensued once more.

It wasn't until they arrived at Briarwood Apartments and parked in front of a building that the rain had lessened slightly, but still fell steadily.

"Thanks," Ophelia said softly, her voice a bit hoarse.

She reached to unbuckle her seatbelt, ready to leave.

"Ms. Taylor," William suddenly spoke.

Ophelia froze, turning to him in surprise. His gaze fixed on her face, his deep eyes appearing particularly sharp in the dim light, as if they could see through all her distress and forced composure.

"The property manager here is named Harris," He stated plainly, "If you have any issues that are hard to handle, you can go to him."

Ophelia's heart skipped a beat.

What did he mean by that? Was he implying he knew why she had ended up here? Or was it just a courteous gesture? Was Mr. Harris his man?

She couldn't read him. William's thoughts seemed much deeper than Benjamin's.

"Why are you helping me?" Ophelia couldn't hold back any longer and asked.

She didn't believe in unmotivated kindness, especially in the White family's whirlwind.

William's lips seemed to twitch slightly, but the smile was so fleeting it might have been a trick of the light. He turned to her, his gaze scrutinizing.

"Maybe because," he said slowly, his voice devoid of emotion, "I can't stand it when people treat gold like it's trash and think they're clever."

Ophelia was stunned. Gold? Trash? Was he talking about her and Emily?

His words stirred a faint ripple in her otherwise desolate heart. But it was quickly followed by deeper suspicion.

William and Benjamin were rivals; how much of what he words was true? How much was manipulation?

"Thanks for your concern," Ophelia lowered her lashes, hiding the complexity in her eyes, her tone distant and polite, "But I'll handle my own affairs."

She opened the car door, and the cold, damp air rushed in.

"Ms. Taylor." William's voice came again, this time with a hint of an elusive tone, "Mrs. White's birthday party is in a few days. Benjamin will likely want you to attend."

Ophelia paused. Her mother-in-law's birthday...

Benjamin's Grandma had always been kind to her. This would be the last time she attended such an important event; she didn't want to disappoint her now.

Would Benjamin bring Emily? How would he introduce her? How should she conduct herself?

Just the thought of it made Ophelia feel a choking sense of humiliation and fear.

"I know," She said without turning back, her voice low and raspy, "I'll be there."

With that, she didn't linger, quickly walking into the apartment building, leaving the black Bentley and the inscrutable man behind her.

William sat in the car, watching her slender but upright figure disappear behind the glass doors, his gaze deep.

The rain began to hit the car windows more intensely, making a steady pattering sound.

He took out his phone and dialed a number.

"John," he said into the phone, his tone reverting to its usual lazy drawl but with a barely perceptible coldness, "Tell Emily, no matter what, she must ensure that Benjamin brings her to the birthday party."

"Mr. White... Are you sure sending Emily to seduce Benjamin is a good idea? Ms. Taylor will be very embarrassed; she might be heartbroken."

"That's the point," William cut off John Smith's words coolly, taking a yellowed photo from the glove compartment.

The photo was meticulously laminated but aged, showing a much younger Ophelia smiling brightly at the camera.

"If she doesn't give up on Benjamin, how will she come back to me? I want her to be disappointed, to despair, so she's forced to cling to me as her lifeline."

William's long fingers lovingly traced the photo, his eyes cold and obsessive, filled with a fanatical intensity. "Benjamin doesn't deserve her. I'm the man she should rely on. I want her to understand that."