Chapter 5

Shawn looked at the departing car, then at Yasmin's pale face beside him, asking softly, "You okay?"

Yasmin shook her head, forcing a strained smile. "I'm fine." She pulled open the car door and slid inside. The moment the door closed, it shut out everything behind her.

The car merged smoothly into traffic.

"You don't need to go head-to-head with him like that." Shawn kept his speed slow. "The Prescott family's power in First Landing—suppressing divorce news would be child's play. Dragging it out like this only hurts you."

Yasmin watched the neon lights flying backward outside the window, her voice subdued. "I know. But I'm done putting up with it. Even if we both go down in flames."

Shawn fell silent for a moment, giving up on persuading her. He knew Yasmin's temperament—docile on the surface, but more stubborn than anyone underneath.

The car stopped outside Yasmin's temporary rental apartment. Shawn offered to walk her up, but she refused. "Get home and rest." She shut the car door and disappeared into the building without looking back.

The next morning, the moment Yasmin entered the office, she sensed something off.

The female colleagues who usually gathered to gossip were now hunched at their desks, their eyes darting her way. The supervisor's office door stood open, a stranger inside.

"Yasmin, come here." The supervisor beckoned.

Yasmin walked over. The supervisor gestured to a sharply dressed woman beside her. "This is Maria. Starting today, she'll be taking over the project Miss Baker was handling. Miss Baker accidentally injured her leg last night and is hospitalized for observation."

Yasmin froze, then caught on. Injured her leg? Last night Scarlett had looked so fragile in Theodore's arms. Quite the performance.

Maria was all business—few words, a quick handoff of materials, then back to her temporary workspace.

Without Scarlett's deliberate interference, Yasmin's work efficiency improved considerably.

During lunch break, Yasmin was getting coffee in the pantry when the wall-mounted TV played financial news. The screen cut to Theodore's austere face. It was a brief interview after he'd attended an industry summit.

The reporter clearly wasn't going to pass up the recent high-society marriage scandal, boldly asking, "Mr. Prescott, there are rumors of a rift with your wife, even talk of divorce. Is this true?"

On screen, Theodore looked completely composed, not even lifting an eyelid.

He spoke into the microphone, his tone steady. "Rumors aren't reliable. My wife and I have an excellent relationship. There are currently no plans for divorce. I hope everyone will focus on Prescott Group's business rather than my private life."

Yasmin's hand froze mid-air, coffee cup suspended.

Excellent relationship? No plans for divorce?

She stared at the sanctimonious man on screen and laughed bitterly. This talent for bald-faced lying—Theodore had truly perfected it.

While protecting his hospitalized mistress, he talked up marital harmony to the media, all to stabilize Prescott Group's stock price. In his eyes, marriage, wife, lover—probably all just quantifiable assets and PR tools.

Yasmin tilted her head back and drank the bitter black coffee. The cold sensation traveled down her throat straight to her stomach.

That evening after work, Yasmin had just walked out of the building when her phone rang.

Marigold.

"Yasmin dear, why haven't you come back?" Marigold's voice carried fatigue and a slight cough. "My chest has been feeling tight these past few days. The doctor says I need rest. I'd like to see you. Come back with Theo for dinner, won't you?"

Yasmin gripped her phone. The refusal reached her lips but wouldn't come out. During those three years at the Prescott family, only the old woman had genuinely protected her.

"Grandma, your health comes first. I'll come right away."

"Good, good. Theo's already on his way to pick you up. Should be there soon."

After hanging up, Yasmin looked up. That familiar black Bentley was parked across the street.

Theodore leaned against the car door, an unlit cigarette between his fingers. Seeing her look over, he casually tossed the cigarette into a nearby trash bin and strode over.

"Get in." No preamble, his tone still ice-cold.

Yasmin didn't move. "I'll take a cab."

"Grandma's waiting." Theodore stopped, turning to fix her with a warning look. "Her heart can't take stress. If you're thinking of bringing up divorce there, you'd better think twice."

Yasmin took a deep breath and got into the passenger seat.

The car was quiet except for the subtle sound of the AC vents.

"I saw the news." Yasmin broke the silence first, her tone mocking. "Mr. Prescott, what a waste you're not collecting acting awards."

Theodore's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his expression blank. "That was for the company's interests. A marriage scandal at this juncture would affect both the White and Prescott family projects."

"So I'm supposed to play along with your lovey-dovey charade?"

"You just need to keep your mouth shut." Theodore's reply was cold.

The car entered the estate's tree-lined drive. Theodore suddenly slowed.

"When we go in, don't pull a long face in front of Grandma." He turned, his gaze landing on Yasmin's somewhat pale face. "Her health really isn't good. The divorce—we'll discuss it after she's stable. In the meantime, you can keep living out there. I won't interfere."

Yasmin laughed coldly. "I'm not heartless enough for that. Grandma's been good to me. I know. I can keep the divorce quiet for now, but that doesn't mean I've changed my mind."

Theodore didn't respond, his eyes darkening as he restarted the car.

At the estate entrance, the butler had been waiting.

Before getting out, Yasmin deliberately straightened her clothes and put on a gentle smile.

Theodore walked beside her. The moment they entered, his hand naturally settled on Yasmin's waist. Yasmin's body stiffened, instinctively wanting to dodge, but she heard him murmur near her ear, "Grandma's watching."

By the floor-to-ceiling window, Marigold sat in her wheelchair, smiling as she watched the "perfect couple." Yasmin had no choice but to let that hand rest loosely around her.

"Yasmin's here." Marigold took Yasmin's hand, examining her carefully. "You've gotten thinner. Has this boy been bullying you?"

Before Yasmin could speak, Theodore jumped in. "Of course not. She's been buried in a company project lately, working herself to the bone."

"No matter how busy work gets, you must take care of yourself." Marigold patted Yasmin's hand, her eyes full of concern. "Stay tonight. Don't go back. I've had your room prepared."

Yasmin's heart sank. Stay? That meant sharing a room with Theodore.