His One True Love

Chapter 10---Where Are You?

The Maybach kicked up a swirl of dust as it sped away, Chase Fields' gaze cold and fixed on the shrinking figure in the rearview mirror.

Beside him, the little one playfully climbed onto his lap, her soft, pale hands clutching at him. "Daddy, why can't we take Mia home for dinner?"

Chase lowered his eyes, his large hand gently stroking Candy's tiny head, his tone patient. "You really like Mia, sweetie?"

"Mm-hmm!" The little girl blinked her big, watery eyes and nodded vigorously.

"Because Mia gave you candy, so you like her?"

But previously, the daughters of the famous families—all of whom had gone on blind dates with him—had brought Candy her favorite snacks, yet the little girl hadn't shown any particular affection. In fact, she'd cried and screamed, refusing to let him stay with any of them.

So what kind of spell had this Wendy Moore cast on his daughter?

Candy shook her head. She raised both small hands, forming little circles over her eyes, her dark, sparkling eyes fixed on Chase as she giggled. "Because Mia's eyes are as big as Candy's!"

Chase froze. Even the child had noticed the woman resembled her?

Holding the little one in his arms, Chase pressed his lips tightly together, his dark eyes deep and unreadable.

After a long day, Candy soon curled up in Chase's arms and fell asleep. He lowered his voice and asked Kevin Hart, who was driving, "When will the DNA report be ready?"

"No later than tomorrow afternoon, Boss. If Miss Moore really is Candy's biological mother…"

Chase's expression darkened slightly. "Find out the full details behind Wendy Moore's surrogacy three years ago."

"Yes, sir."

If that woman had approached him and Candy with ulterior motives, even if she were Candy's biological mother, he wouldn't hesitate to let this truth vanish beneath the waves—along with her identity.

…

After leaving the kindergarten, Wendy Moore took a detour to Indigo Street. As she approached Moore Villa, she saw a large moving truck parked outside the gate, as if someone was relocating.

"Over here! Be careful! This vase cost over a million—I'll hold you personally responsible if it breaks!"

A sharp, familiar middle-aged woman's voice rang out. Wendy looked up and saw Autumn Scott frowning impatiently, directing the movers.

A worker carried out a portrait, and Autumn's eyes narrowed in disdain. "Toss that painting. It's heavy, takes up space, and brings bad luck."

As the worker prepared to throw it away, Wendy's eyes sharpened—this was her father's portrait!

"Wait!"

Autumn turned at the sound, her gaze landing on Wendy's long-absent face. Her eyes flickered violently.

"W-Wendy Moore…? Didn't you leave Gaiara?"

Wendy's lips curved into a faint, cold, mocking smile. "Mrs. Scott, long time no see."

"What are you doing back in Gaiara?"

Wendy snatched the portrait from the mover and clutched it tightly to her chest. "This is my home. Why can't I come back?"

"Ha!" Autumn sneered. "Let me tell you this—this villa will be demolished soon, and you can't stop it! And you have no right to stop it, either. After all, the property is under my name!"

Wendy clenched the portrait, her slender fingers turning white from the pressure, her eyes resolute and defiant. "I will never stand by and watch this villa be torn down!"

Arms crossed, Autumn scoffed. "Do you know how much this villa is worth once it's torn down? Forty million! Wendy Moore, wanting this villa is pure fantasy! Though… selling yourself might be a possibility."

The fire inside her flared. Wendy remembered the one million she'd lost three years ago—stolen by Autumn and Grace Scott. Clenching her fist, she raised her hand to slap Autumn's face. But just as her palm was about to land, her wrist was suddenly seized and violently flung aside.

"Auntie, are you okay?"

Brad Howell rushed out of the villa, concerned for his "future mother-in-law." Wendy shot him a cold, emotionless glare, then turned and strode away, hugging the portrait tightly.

She hadn't even left Indigo Street when Brad caught up, grabbing her wrist and demanding, "Why are you back?"

She sneered. "Why can't I come back? Brad! Don't you dare disgust me!"

She yanked her wrist free. Her crimson eyes, like those of an enraged little beast, glared furiously at him.

"Disgust you? Wendy Moore! Where did you get that one million three years ago?"

"What right do you have to ask me? Hah… So you know Autumn and Grace Scott stole that million? Were you involved?"

Brad hesitated, guilt flashing across his face for a moment before he grabbed her wrist again. "How could you earn that kind of money in less than a year? Wendy Moore, did you become a hostess… a p********e?"

She laughed—cold, chilling. "I must've been blind to ever date you! You make me—sick. So utterly, completely sick I want to vomit!"

She wrenched free, clutched the portrait, and walked away without looking back.

But the moment she turned, her eyes turned red…

Inside, waves of bitterness and hatred surged like a stormy sea.

She would get her revenge. She would make Autumn and Grace Scott—and Brad—pay the price they deserved!

She took a deep breath and dialed Yvonne Perry's number. She remembered—Yvonne's contact list was full of phone numbers of high-society figures.

"Yvonne, do you have Chase Fields' number?"

…

At Fields Villa, in the study.

Chase stood by the window, taking a call.

"Boss, Wendy Moore became a surrogate three years ago because her father, George Moore, went bankrupt and accumulated massive debts. To repay them, she agreed to surrogacy. But that one million seems to have been stolen by her stepmother and stepsister. Her father, driven to despair by creditors, jumped to his death. Even Moore Villa ended up under her stepmother's name. After giving birth three years ago, she went to study in Paris. Judging from this, Wendy Moore likely has no idea that Candy is her biological daughter."

As Kevin finished speaking, another call interrupted Chase's line.

Chase hung up on Kevin and answered the unknown number. A young, familiar female voice came through—slightly hoarse, as if she'd just been crying.

"Hello, Mr. Fields. This is Wendy Moore. Does what you said about being interested in my body… still stand?"

Chase raised an eyebrow, a flicker of cunning in his dark eyes. "Just a joke. Did you actually take it seriously, Miss Moore?"

On the other end, Wendy swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "Mr. Fields, if you can save Moore Villa, I'll do anything."

Chase was silent for a long time—so long that she felt herself sinking into a cold, dark ocean, suffocating, drowning. Then, at last, a cold, indifferent male voice came through:

"I'm not interested in keeping mistresses."

Gathering her last shred of courage, Wendy closed her eyes and spoke slowly, firmly: "I'm not asking to be your mistress, Mr. Fields. I know you're in need of a Mrs. Fields. And I… need a powerful protector."