Chapter 4
941 Words
The morning air seeped through the half-open window, carrying with it the sharp scent of smoke and burnt metal. The woman standing before the window didn’t seem the least bit disturbed by the smell. She calmly enjoyed a cup of tea, her gaze lost on the scene below utter chaos. The smoke from last night’s explosion still lingered, ash and scraps of metal were scattered everywhere. Several guards were busy clearing the debris, while on the other side, the charred remains of luxury cars were being pulled one by one from the garage.
A faint smile tugged at her lips as she recalled the servant’s report that morning.
'Mr. Lucien’s rare car collection is completely destroyed. Four antique cars, two from France, and several of the latest sports cars also exploded. The total loss is estimated at nearly two hundred million dollars.'
Four antique cars, several sports cars—some of which were one-of-a-kind in the world—obliterated within seconds by the small bomb she had planted the night before. Lucien must be furious. And just imagining it made Zalea want to laugh.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze toward the glass. Her reflection stared back, pale skin, clear eyes, so innocent... so calm... that no one would ever suspect she was the one behind the explosion last night. And someday soon, she couldn’t promise not to blow up the entire mansion if Lucien dared cross her again.
A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. Zalea turned slowly, her smile vanishing without a trace, replaced by a serene expression and a faint, innocent smile when she saw Maxwell standing at the doorway.
“The Master requests your presence in his study immediately.”
Maxwell’s words made Zalea’s brow crease slightly before she decided to follow him toward Lucien’s office.
Zalea had a bad feeling as they arrived at the door. Lucien wasn’t an ordinary man, but neither was the bomb she had planted. It would have disintegrated completely upon detonation, leaving no trace behind.
Surely he wasn’t calling her because he suspected her involvement... was he?
The thought made Zalea uneasy for a brief moment before her face softened again into calm cheerfulness as she stepped into Lucien’s office.
“Lucien… you called for me… could it be that you missed me?” Zalea spoke coyly. Though the tone felt strange on her tongue, she did her best to mimic Alea’s slightly spoiled manner of speech.
She stopped two steps behind Lucien, who stood with his back to her.
Lucien turned around slowly. The open buttons of his shirt exposed his chest—undeniably attractive in Zalea’s eyes. She admitted, the man’s body was far superior to most. No wonder so many women fell for his charm… including Alea.
Lucien met Zalea’s gaze coldly. “Don’t think disgusting thoughts.” As always, whenever he spoke to her, his expression was harsh and his tone carried danger.
Zalea didn’t have time to respond before Lucien’s heavy steps closed the distance between them. His arm shot out, slamming her back against the wall.
Lucien’s face hovered inches from hers, the veins in his jaw tightening as his hand gripped her chin.
“The explosion in the garage. The security system’s down. CCTV disabled, and only in that area... You think that’s a coincidence?”
His voice was low and full of menace.
Damn it! If it weren’t for this plan, I would’ve smashed your face in, Zalea cursed inwardly, forcing herself not to slap him. Her outward expression, however, was entirely different, innocent, frightened…
“Lu-Lucien…” Zalea whispered shakily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her eyes welled with tears, as if genuinely wounded by the accusation.
Lucien tightened his grip on her chin, a cold smirk forming on his lips. “Since you arrived, strange things keep happening in this house. Tell me, are you behind this?”
“Lucien… I love you. How could I ever destroy your home? I just want to stay here, with you forever.” Zalea’s voice was soft, trembling as if on the verge of tears.
Lucien stared at her for a long moment. His dark eyes scanned every inch of her face, searching for a trace of deceit. Yet all he found was a pitiful, watery gaze that seemed sincere. For some reason, the sight only disgusted him more.
He had suspected many people since the explosion, the subordinates who might’ve been bribed, the guards who’d been careless, even the ones he trusted most. But now, looking at Zalea with her naïve expression and trembling voice, Lucien felt foolish. Alea, a woman who could barely tell the difference between a security system and a washing machine, smart enough to plant a bomb? Impossible.
His jaw tightened as he exhaled sharply, then released her chin with a rough motion.
“Calling you here was pointless,” he said coldly. Turning away, he walked to the sofa. The first cloud of cigarette smoke drifted in the air, forming a hazy curtain between them.
Zalea didn’t move. Her face still bore fear and helplessness, but behind that mask lay something close to a smile as she watched Lucien lose his composure. Moments like this brought her a particular kind of satisfaction.
A soft knock at the door broke the silence. When Maxwell entered, Zalea’s eyes subtly followed his every move. Maxwell was no less dangerous than Lucien, the right hand who always handled Lucien’s dirty work.
“Sir, Miss Jessy has arrived. She wishes to see you.”
At those words, Zalea’s gaze sharpened unconsciously.
Jessy? Who is that woman now?
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