Chapter 4 I’ll See You Off

On her lips was the taste of blood and unfamiliar tobacco, mixed with the sharp scent of his cologne, making her stomach churn violently.

Grace's sanity completely snapped under the combined effect of alcohol and humiliation.

A crisp slap echoed through the quiet street.

The air inside the car instantly froze. Alfred's handsome face showed a clear handprint. He turned his head in disbelief, the fury in his eyes almost becoming tangible.

"You dare hit me?" He spoke each word deliberately, his voice laced with ice.

In three years of marriage, she had always been as docile as a cat, rarely even raising her voice, let alone lifting a hand.

Grace's palm tingled, but a surge of vengeful satisfaction rose in her heart.

She met his terrifying gaze, her drunken eyes full of mockery and hatred. "Hitting you dirties my hand."

"Grace, you're asking for it!"

Alfred was completely enraged and shoved her away forcefully.

Grace's head slammed hard against the car window, the pain making her vision go black.

He had no more patience for pretense. He roughly shoved her entire body into the back seat, then slammed the car door shut with a bang.

The engine roared, and the Rolls-Royce shot into traffic like an arrow.

The pressure inside the car was terrifyingly low. Grace curled up in a corner of the spacious back seat. The alcohol had been mostly driven away by pain and shock, leaving only waves of fear and a bone-deep chill.

She watched the neon lights flying backward outside the window, light and shadow flickering on his cold, hard profile, making him seem even more heartless.

She said nothing, and he remained silent the whole way.

This deathly silence was more suffocating than any argument.

Just then, a cheerful phone ringtone broke the deadlock.

Not his work phone, but his personal one.

Alfred glanced at the screen, and his rage miraculously softened, even showing a hint of nervousness and concern.

He put on his Bluetooth earpiece, keeping his voice very low but with unprecedented tenderness. "Hello, Brenda? What's wrong?"

Grace's heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand. Even her breathing stopped.

"What? How could you be so careless?" His brow furrowed tightly, his tone full of reproach and heartache. "Didn't I tell you that you're allergic to alcohol and can't drink?"

Brenda on the other end seemed to be crying, her voice soft and weak, coming through the earpiece in fragments.

"Don't be scared, I'll come right away. Where are you now? Send me the address." Alfred spoke quickly, with an undeniable reassurance.

After hanging up, he jerked the steering wheel. The car made a sharp screeching sound and pulled over to the side of the road.

"Get out." He didn't even turn his head, his commanding tone cold as ice.

Grace froze.

This was the middle of nowhere, a main road leading to the suburbs, with dim streetlights and few pedestrians.

"What did you say?" She thought she had misheard.

"I said get out of the car." Alfred finally turned to look at her, his eyes devoid of any warmth, only extreme impatience. "Brenda had an allergic reaction to alcohol and is in the hospital. I don't have time to waste on you."

For Brenda, he was going to dump his wife on the side of the road.

How ridiculous.

The last shred of hope in Grace's heart was completely crushed, leaving only numb pain.

She didn't argue or beg. She just silently pulled the car door open.

Just as she swung one leg out of the car, she suddenly remembered something and turned back. "My phone is still in the car."

Her purse had fallen on the seat during their earlier struggle.

Alfred followed her gaze and glanced at it, a cruel smile curving his lips. "Perfect. Didn't you drink too much? Walk back and sober up properly."

With that, he gave her no more chances and stepped on the gas.

The black Rolls-Royce roared and sped past her, the wind it kicked up messing her long hair, exhaust fumes hitting her face.

Grace stood frozen in place, watching helplessly as the familiar car merged into the distant traffic, quickly becoming an insignificant black dot before disappearing completely.

No phone, no wallet.

He had discarded her like trash in this desolate night.

A cold drop fell on her cheek—she couldn't tell if it was a tear or a raindrop.

She looked up and realized that at some point, a fine, cold rain had begun to fall from the sky.

The evening wind mixed with rain, soaking through her thin work suit, the chill seeping from her skin straight into her bones.

She hugged her arms, standing dazed by the roadside, like a child abandoned by the whole world.

Humiliation, anger, sorrow...

All these emotions intertwined and ultimately turned into a hollow, deathly silence.

Just as she was shivering from the cold and could barely hold on, a beam of bright headlights approached from afar and slowly stopped in front of her.

The window rolled down, revealing a refined, scholarly face.

It was Dylan.

He clearly recognized her too. Behind his silver-rimmed glasses, surprise flashed in his eyes, then turned to concern. "Grace? What are you doing here?"

Grace turned her face away awkwardly, not wanting him to see her current embarrassment.

"Get in." Dylan didn't ask more questions, just said gently, "The rain is getting heavier. Let me give you a ride."

His voice was like the only source of warmth in this cold, rainy night, carrying an irrefusable kindness.

Grace hesitated for a moment but ultimately couldn't resist the bone-piercing cold. She opened the car door and got in.

The warm air inside the car enveloped her, and her tense body finally relaxed a little.

Dylan thoughtfully handed her a clean blanket and turned up the car heater before asking softly, "Should I take you home, or to a hotel?"

"A hotel." Grace's voice was soft, with a barely noticeable tremor.

She didn't want to return to that home filled with Brenda, nor did she want to go to her own apartment. Right now, she just wanted to find a place to hide herself.

Dylan didn't press further. He just nodded and smoothly drove toward the nearest five-star hotel.

The car's heating made her drowsy. The aftereffects of alcohol, combined with the bone-deep chill, surged up together. Grace's consciousness gradually blurred.

She felt her body alternating between burning hot and plunging into an icy abyss, the cold and heat alternating, even her bones aching.

When Dylan parked the car, he discovered that the person beside him had already fallen asleep with her head tilted against the window.

Her face was flushed with an unhealthy redness, but her lips were colorless, and her breathing had become rapid and hot.

He reached out to touch her forehead. The alarming temperature made him frown deeply.

This fever was too severe.

He didn't wake her. Instead, he unbuckled his seatbelt and carefully lifted her into his arms.