Love, Hate, and Revenge

Chapter 5

A young, beautiful woman capable of designing such a noble, grand car, one that also caters to men's reverence for automobiles — such a woman must possess an exquisitely delicate and clever heart. Sebastian Hastings gazed at the perfect car, an unreadable light burning in his dark pupils.

It had to be said, the sleek exterior of this model suited his tastes perfectly, almost embodying the ideal car prototype he had envisioned.

What kind of woman possessed such talent?

"This car has a beautiful name — Modern Idea. It was named by the woman who designed it. It's said she designed it for the man she loves," the assistant explained earnestly. "Interestingly enough, this designer is actually from our country, from our very own City A. And she has now returned to City A."

"Oh?" Sebastian Hastings felt a stir in his heart. He lifted his face slightly, his sharply chiseled profile revealing an inscrutable expression.

"I want to see her within three days," he said calmly, a glint of light flashing in his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, his well-defined fingers resting on the soft backrest.

Sebastian Hastings had a unique sensitivity to business information. His intuition told him that this female designer was a rare talent. Although the Hastings Group owned many car models, few had the power to truly make a global impact. The group was currently at a critical stage of transformation, and he couldn't afford to miss this opportunity.

For him, anything he wanted, he had never failed to obtain. And since she was just a woman, who could resist the temptation of a substantial sum of money?

At Moon River Cemetery, deep, serene, and desolate.

Ivy Winthrop had been there for an entire day. She curled up in front of her father Richard Winthrop's grave — heartbroken, anguished, grieving. Her frail, thin figure stood utterly alone.

She sat motionless, like an ice sculpture on snowy ground, as if she might melt away at any moment.

"Dad, I couldn't make Sebastian Hastings fall in love with me. He could never love me. We're already divorced." Her voice was tiny and weak, like the buzzing of a mosquito. Her lips were chapped. She hadn't eaten or drunk anything for an entire day and night. She didn't feel hunger — only a bone-deep, heart-wrenching pain.

"Dad, I don't want to tell Mom. I'm afraid it would break her heart." Ivy Winthrop parted her dry, cracked lips and said in a hoarse voice. "Dad, I don't want any more ties to him either. I don't want to see him ever again. But Dad, the luxury car that killed you belongs to the Hastings Group. I recognized that car — I'm sure of it. I cannot let you die in vain. The only way I can uncover the truth is by working at the Hastings Group. Whoever killed you, I will make them pay in blood."

Her fingers gripped the cold tombstone tightly. Blood trickled from her delicate white hands, drop by drop, onto the snow-white marble. She bit her red lips until they turned pale.

"I don't want this either. I don't want it to be like this. But he's a demon," she sobbed in a low, stifled voice. Her dried-out eyes had no tears left.

Even if he humiliated her in every possible way and treated her like dirt, she could endure it. But no matter what, she could not endure the murder of her beloved father — the dearest person to her in this world.

She buried her head deep in her knees, sobbing.

Even if he wasn't the one, it was someone connected to the Hastings Group — she was almost certain. And aside from him, who else could hate her so much?

The setting sun cast crimson afterglows like blood across the sky.

She slowly stood up. Her delicate fingers brushed the strands of hair from her forehead. Her pale little face was filled with determination.

Gently, she took out her phone from her bag and pressed the keys.

"Is this the manager of Hastings Group? I accept your offer." Her gaze was icy cold, but her voice was gentle and composed.

"Good, very good," came the manager's excited voice over the phone. "Miss Alice, I will report this to the president immediately. The company will send a car to pick you up tomorrow. The president wants to receive you personally."

The coldness at the corners of Ivy Winthrop's mouth deepened slightly. She answered calmly, "Alright."

Having been with Sebastian Hastings for many years, she knew he loved cars. Loving him, she had come to love cars too. During the lonely, desolate days and nights, without her beloved by her side, only those cold car models kept her company. She had thrown herself wholeheartedly into car design. She wanted to design a car that would move Sebastian Hastings, that would make him look at her with new respect.

A luxury car naturally suited a proud, noble man like Sebastian Hastings. During her three years in America, she had dedicated herself to research, blending in the wild arrogance and roughness inherent in men, and finally grasped the essence of design.

Whenever people looked at her with puzzled eyes, she would smile faintly, her face blooming like a flower. Admittedly, a woman learning car design seemed somewhat unconventional. But she was at peace, her heart as calm as water.

She had wanted to design a car like no other in the world for the man she loved — to astonish him, to make him appreciate her, even to fall in love with her.

And she had truly succeeded!

The car she designed not only caused a global sensation but also caught his attention. He had even sent his subordinates to invite her. Only now, her heart was no longer set on its original intention.

What would Sebastian Hastings think when he discovered that the person he had gone to such lengths to invite was her? A mocking smile curved Ivy Winthrop's lips. The light in her eyes was as cold and clear as the bright moon.

"Three months will be enough. Don't worry, Dad." Ivy Winthrop squatted down again, caressing her father's smiling face on the tombstone, murmuring softly...

The spacious, imposing office was elegantly understated — not luxurious, not pretentious. It suited Ivy Winthrop's personality perfectly.

Ivy Winthrop wore a pure white professional suit. The medium-length skirt accentuated her graceful, exquisite figure. Her waterfall-like long hair naturally draped over her shoulders. Her smooth, fair skin glowed like polished jade. A confident, poised smile graced her face. She looked gentle, refined, and exceptionally elegant.

She stood before the large floor-to-ceiling window on the 86th floor, gazing into the distance.

Stepping back into the Hastings Group, she had now become a highly respected female designer.

The nameplate on the dark red office desk displayed the bold, eye-catching black characters: "Chief Designer Alice," commanding respect.

A light, polite knock came at the door.

A flash of fierce light flickered and disappeared in her bright eyes. Her voice was calm and warm.

"Come in."

The capable and efficient Assistant Liu walked in.

"Miss Alice, do you like this office?" the assistant asked cautiously, a smile on her face. For some reason, she always felt that although this noble, beautiful, young female designer wore a gentle and amiable smile, there was an aura of cold distance around her that discouraged intimacy. After all, this was a female designer the Hastings Group had hired at great expense. She dared not offend her — otherwise, she couldn't answer to the president.

"Miss Alice, our president personally selected and arranged this office for you. President Ruan said that a woman who can design a car admired and coveted by men must be extraordinary — a combination of wisdom and beauty. The president thinks highly of you. Worried that you might not feel comfortable in the country, he specially chose this office for you, hoping you will like it." Capable Assistant Liu's words were as warm and pleasant as fine jade.

Sebastian Hastings personally arranged an office for her? Ivy Winthrop's heart gave a slight leap, but the light in her eyes remained calm and undisturbed. A faint, invisible smile of mockery tugged at her lips. If he knew that "Alice" was actually her — would someone as proud as he be furious?

The designer he had gone to such lengths to hire was actually someone he had always dismissed with contempt. Wouldn't he be so enraged that he'd blow his top?

Ivy Winthrop's lips curled slightly. He had this coming.

A proud, noble man like him, for the sake of the company's interests, would humble himself and go out of his way to please others. It seemed that his leadership of the Hastings Group to such an unrivaled height had required extraordinary hardship and effort — every step taken solidly.

But during his entrepreneurial journey, she had not shared in his labors as an equal partner, nor had she been his solid support. By his side was only the beautiful and sexy Gina Moretti. The one he loved was not her.

His disdainful, repulsed look floated before her eyes, and her heart ached with a dull, piercing pain.