My Versatile Wife

Chapter 5---Cutting My Losses

Aurora slumped against the car window, watching the city lights blur past, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Henry's words echoed in her mind, yet she found them laughable.

How many times had Emily tormented her behind her family's back? She had endured it all in silence, hoping for peace—only to see the cruelty escalate.

She wasn't born meek. When tolerance failed, she learned to fight back. But in Henry's eyes, that made her the bully?

She had been cast out of the Wright family. All of Truckwood knew she was the disowned daughter. Shirley Robinson despised her even more.

To spare him discomfort, she had always stepped back, avoiding the public eye. Yet to him, that was just making excuses, refusing to attend social events with him?

And the intimate lifestyle products...

If not for that incident, if not for the Wright family's selfishness and bias, would she have lost everything and ended up like this?

And now, somehow, it was all her fault?!

Aurora closed her eyes, overcome by a wave of sorrow and bitter irony.

Suddenly, a man's voice cut through. "Is a man like that worth your tears?"

She blinked, turning her head. Through her blurred vision, a man sat beside her—refined and dignified, spine straight, features sharp and cold.

Only then did she remember: she'd gotten into a stranger's car, and this man had helped her at the bar.

With someone present, she couldn't afford to look broken. She wiped her tears. "Who said I was crying for him?"

Timothy Hart raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on her slightly reddened, luminous eyes.

"I'm not crying for him," Aurora said. "I'm crying for myself."

For the six years of her youth—wasted and deceived.

Timothy nodded slowly, in silent agreement.

"When an investment fails," he said, "what's the best move?"

"What?"

"Cut your losses in time."

The four words slipped from his lips, sending a tremor through her chest.

She turned to him. In the dim light, he sat tall and poised. The glow cast shadows on his profile, deepening his chiseled, aristocratic features—cold, regal, untouchable.

She'd seen handsome men before. Henry was one.

But beside this man, he paled in comparison.

Like stars before the sun, this man was blinding—like an eagle soaring above the heavens, radiating power and unmatched prestige.

And that face—capable of making any woman's heart race.

Her pulse fluttered. A wild thought flashed through her mind.

Staring at his sharp profile, she swallowed. "I understand."

She paused, then asked suddenly, "What do you think about intimate lifestyle products?"

Timothy frowned slightly. "A normal industry, no different from any other. No special opinion."

Aurora let out a soft, melancholic laugh.

Her smile held seven parts drunkenness, three parts clarity. Her eyes shimmered like autumn waters, her voice light. "I feel the same."

A cool, faint fragrance reached his nose. Timothy turned—and saw her straighten, her upper body leaning toward him.

"Do you think I'm beautiful?"

Timothy's back stiffened.

The woman before him was undeniably beautiful.

Not just beautiful—she was sensual, breathtaking.

Though she wore only a simple beige coat over a white camisole, nothing could dim the icy elegance radiating from within.

A phrase flickered through his mind: *True beauty lies in what pleases the eye.*

His throat bobbed. He said nothing.

After a pause, he grunted, "Hmm."

Aurora leaned closer, her crimson lips nearly brushing his ear. "If I wanted to sleep with you," she whispered, "would you let me?"

"Hah—!"

Owen, at the wheel, couldn't help but snort.

The next second, a glacial glare pierced through the rearview mirror.

He quickly suppressed his laughter and silently raised the partition.

Only then did Timothy turn to the woman beside him.

He narrowed his eyes, shadows dancing in his gaze. "Sleeping with me comes at a price. Are you sure?"

Aurora chuckled. "Money? I have it."

She pulled out her wallet, laying out all the red bills in her palm.

"You count them. If it's not enough, we can transfer more."

Timothy realized—she wasn't joking. She was dead serious.

A vein throbbed on his temple. He rubbed his brow.

"So tonight, would you have slept with anyone in this seat?"

Aurora shook her head.

Then she giggled, reaching to pat his cheek.

"I'm not that dumb. I want you because you're too damn handsome. They look down on me? Fine. I'll find someone better, someone more handsome than him. I'll make them furious!"

Timothy hadn't expected this.

He was torn between amusement and disbelief, clearly not taking her seriously.

Just then, the car braked sharply.

Already dizzy with drink, Aurora lurched forward. Timothy's arm shot out, pulling her back just in time.

His voice turned icy. "What happened?"

Owen's voice came from the front. "Sorry, President Hart. We've arrived at the Hart Villa."

"You go back."

"Yes!"

The front door closed. Timothy looked down at the woman in his arms. Her eyes were hazy, her face flushed with wine. He frowned.

"We're here. Get out."

But she didn't move. Leaning against him, she gazed up at his proud, cold face.

That face—restrained, aloof. Yet his lips were thin, unfairly sensual, parting and closing like a silent temptation.

Alcohol drowned her reason.

She reached up, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed a cool kiss to his lips.

Timothy froze, pupils contracting. The next second, the softness was gone.

Aurora looked at his stunned expression and giggled.

"Handsome, your lips are sweet."

Timothy: ...

Barely restraining the urge to toss her out, he said coldly, "Let go."

Aurora didn't move. She blinked, staring at his stern face—and suddenly, her eyes welled with tears.

"Do you think I'm rigid, not gentle, not fun... that's why you won't let me?"

Timothy clenched his jaw. "No."

"Then why won't you say yes?"

She suddenly looked heartbroken. Tears spilled down, rolling over her pale, porcelain skin like glistening pearls.

His heart clenched.

Her tears fell freely, soaking his shirt.