His One True Love

Chapter 14---The Greedy Pair

Wendy Moore maintained a serene expression, her face showing a seemingly blissful adoration for Chase Fields—though inside, her mind was racing with anxiety.

If Chase pulled away from her now and publicly denied their connection in front of Grace Scott and Brad Howell, she'd want to disappear into the nearest c***k in the ground.

Candy, perfectly timed, piped up in her sweet, childish voice, "Daddy, let's go home! Me and Mia don't like them!"

Chase's deep eyes locked onto Wendy's delicate face. In his cold gaze, a faint, amused smile slowly spread. He reached to pull his arm free from hers. Her heart dropped—this was bad. But the next moment, she felt a sudden pressure on her shoulder—

His long arm wrapped around both her and Candy. His composed face softened with a subtle smile. "Alright. Let's go home."

Dazed, Wendy was led by Chase into the Maybach worth over 60 million dollars, all under the stunned stares of Brad and Grace.

As the black Maybach passed Brad's Range Rover—priced at just over a million dollars, looking almost embarrassingly cheap in comparison—it deliberately slowed. From inside, Chase's distant gaze passed through the glass, meeting Brad and Grace across the empty air.

The Maybach sped off, leaving Brad and Grace literally eating dust.

Grace stomped her high heels, yanking open the car door as she snapped, "Brad! You need to upgrade your car! Look at their Maybach—then look at your old Range Rover! How could I possibly lose to that washed-up girl, Wendy Moore!"

Brad soothed her patiently, "There, there, darling. Chase is rich—of course he drives a sixty-million-dollar car. Why torture ourselves over it?"

"I'm not mad at Chase! I'm just furious! Now Wendy's actually Mrs. Fields? How am I supposed to hold my head up in our circle? She'll definitely use Chase as her shield to crush and humiliate us!"

Brad frowned, watching the Maybach vanish into the distance. "When did Chase even get married? How come we didn't hear anything?"

Grace narrowed her eyes. "Hmph. Wendy thinks she can fool me that easily? Chase has always been single—where did this ‘wife' suddenly come from? I'll get to the bottom of this, mark my words."

…

Inside the Maybach, Candy had fallen asleep in Wendy's arms, still clutching the Coke she'd bought from KFC.

Wendy gently took the cup from the little girl's arms. Chase glanced at the backseat through the rearview mirror and suddenly said, "Who gave you permission to take Candy to KFC?"

Wendy froze, then apologized. "…Sorry. I saw Candy really wanted it, so I… But it's just once. It won't hurt her much."

"Using food to win over a child, Miss Moore? Don't you think your methods are rather crude?"

His cold voice was harsh and unyielding.

Wendy frowned, annoyed. "Mr. Fields, I don't know why you helped me earlier, but I'm grateful. You don't want Candy eating fried food or drinking Coke—that's for her health. But imposing such strictness on a three-year-old? She won't feel childhood joy, only sadness. And you spend so little time with her. She can't even fit in with the other kids at kindergarten. I just feel sorry for Candy, being treated so harshly by you."

Chase's brow lifted slightly. He listened to this woman scolding him with righteous indignation—yet felt no anger. "Harshly?"

She swallowed, biting her lip. "Isn't it? You often bring strange women home—that's your right. But letting those women mistreat Candy? That's your failure as a father."

Chase didn't get angry. Instead, he laughed. Bring strange women home? Let them mistreat Candy?

Was this all made up by that clever little girl, trying to make Wendy feel sorry for her?

"You're accusing me of being an unfit father?"

She glanced out the window. "I wouldn't dare accuse Mr. Fields. And I don't have the right. But Candy is starved for love. As her teacher, I just hope you can give her more paternal affection."

Hmph. This woman disappeared for three years after giving birth, fulfilling zero maternal duties—and now she dares lecture him about not giving Candy enough fatherly love?

"Mr. Fields, please stop at the next intersection. I can go home myself."

But Chase ignored her.

"…"

Wendy pressed her lips together. The atmosphere turned strange. She'd spoken too harshly in the heat of the moment. If Chase held a grudge, crushing her would be effortless.

Only now did she realize how reckless she'd been.

Damn it—why couldn't she keep her mouth shut? Why provoke someone like Chase Fields?

Yet every flicker of her emotions was clearly visible in Chase's sharp eyes.

The man's lips curled slightly. Then, in a crisp, clean tone, he said two words: "Your address."

"…Ocean Blue Estates."

As if compelled by some unseen force, she gave her apartment complex. Probably because this man's presence was so overwhelming—she simply couldn't defy him.

As they neared Ocean Blue Estates, the little girl in Wendy's arms stirred awake. Rubbing her eyes, she pouted and asked, "Daddy, are we at Mia's house yet?"

"Almost."

When they arrived, Wendy stepped out. Candy followed.

Holding Wendy's hand, the little girl grinned at Chase. "Daddy, can we have dinner at Mia's tonight?"

"…Candy, teacher's place is kind of—"

Before she could finish refusing, Chase had already stepped out, hands in his pockets, and said, "Sure."

"…"

Wendy twitched her lips. What on earth did this man want?!

…

Wendy led the big and the small to her apartment door, slowly pulling out her keys.

If Yvonne were home, how would she explain this?

As she hesitated, Candy tilted her pale, round face up, blinked her big eyes, and innocently asked, "Mia, can't you open the door? Ask Daddy to help."

"I—no, I can do it."

Gritting her teeth, Wendy forced the key into the lock and opened the door. No sound inside. Yvonne wasn't home.

Relief washed over her. Thank goodness—Yvonne wasn't here…

She changed into slippers, then looked at the two standing outside. No extra slippers. Awkwardly, she said, "Come in. No need to change shoes."

Candy gave a serious nod, then bounced in joyfully. As for the taller one—hands in pockets, cold-faced, he bent slightly, stepping his long legs into the apartment.

Thankfully, the fridge had food. Otherwise, she'd have to go grocery shopping to entertain them.

She'd already had dinner with Candy at KFC—why was she now cooking another meal for Chase?

Standing in front of the fridge, she irritably slapped her forehead—when a cool male voice suddenly cut in: "I don't eat onions or garlic. Make it mild and low on seasoning."

"…"

How dare he just boss her around like that!