Chapter 4 I’m Sorry
Eileen looked at Welburn at his question. Seeing the cold, lazy look on his face, she licked her slightly dry lips and said tentatively, “I wanna work with you again.”
She had no confidence at all when she said this.
The film they took part in together had become a blockbuster soon, and many directors had approached her with scripts, hoping she’d film together with Welburn again.
She had turned them down on the spot. And Welburn, at her reaction, had deeply glanced at her.
Then he had raised his glass, saying, “Wish you happiness.”
After years, she made such a proposal during their first meeting. What would he think?
Utterly nervous, she sweated profusely, and her shirt was soaked.
Welburn said coldly, “There’s one thing I wanna know. Is your husband OK with your comeback?”
She knew he didn’t mean to insult her, but the word “husband” still made her face burn.
She tightened her grip on the glass, almost crushing it.
As she bowed her head, Welburn couldn’t see the emotions hidden in her eyes.
All he could see was her fluttering lashes like butterfly wings.
She used to be as proud as the rising sun on the prairie, yet now, she was even more fragile than a tempered glass covered in scars, trying her very best to stop herself from cracking.
But with a simple, hard strike, she’d collapse for good.
After a moment of silence, she looked up and smiled, “My marriage is complicated. I just want my career back.”
He asked, “Given your previous status, you have ample chances for a comeback. Why me?”
And she seemed so pitiful as if she had been suffering all these years.
Didn’t Fremont love her to the core?
She had been so happy when she quit, yet, here she was, using the word “complicated” to describe her marriage.
“Something happened, and I can’t see what I can do in Warington. Our collaboration back then was a huge success, and the film still has massive fans today. I figure that if we work again, maybe it’ll help with my career.”
Welburn chuckled. “So, you wanna use me as a tool to climb back to the top?”
His blunt words were like a loud slap in her face.
She seemed a bit embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I know this is…”
Suddenly, he stood up, braced his hands on the table, and leaned forward.
The wood scent exclusive to him drifted into her nostrils, making him the only existence in her world.
She was stunned and then looked up at him.
“Eileen.”
He said her name slowly and clearly, and she gazed at him, a bit baffled.
In the past, she had always found him cold and indifferent on set. Only when acting opposite her would he unleash himself, overwhelming him like roaring waves, making her heart flutter.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t need your apology. I want…”
Just then, a waiter knocked on the door. It was time to serve the dishes.
As Eileen looked at Welburn again, he was already in his seat, fiddling with his obsidian bracelet casually.
His slender figure under dim light somehow seemed a bit alone, and she could see his sexy collarbones and obvious Adam’s apple peeking from under his undone buttons.
He had always been a detached man with icy restraint, yet, at this precise moment, she found herself engulfed by his dangerous aura.
Was coming to Palsbury really a right move?
Come to think of it, she didn’t know Welburn at all.
He was years older than her, and the day they first met, he had worn a black coat, making him seem unapproachable.
His acting skills weren’t top-notch, but he took scripts seriously enough to study every glance.
With her and the director’s relentless improvement, the movie turned out to be perfect.
After years, he had become mature and steady, and his eyes were literally the deepest, most unfathomable she had ever seen.
Noticing that she was absent-minded, Welburn crooked his bony finger and tapped the table.
“Let’s eat,” he offered.
“Alright.”
Eileen said no more. As usual, he didn’t talk much. The private room soon fell silent, with only the sound of tableware clattering ringing out.
By the time they left the restaurant, it was already dark.
Since he didn’t give her his answer, she didn’t know what he was thinking.
Holding her coat in her arms, she walked next to him neither slowly nor hurriedly.
He asked, “Have you ever been to Palsbury before?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“The night view here is superb.”
She gazed out at countless sparkling lights in the distance, thinking, “How long has it been since I enjoyed scenery?
“I spent every day trying everything to get pregnant. Trapping in that villa, I watched countless sunrises and sunsets alone, waiting for him to come back. Now that I think about it, it’s more like a cage rather than a villa.”
She raised her hand and pointed at the highest landmark. “I heard it’s over a hundred meters high. Surely, the city looks the best standing on there, right?”
“You wanna go up there?”
“I wanna see what’s it like on the top.”
She used to be foolish enough to walk away from all that.
“Tomorrow, maybe. It’s getting late. I’ll take you back for some rest.”
The black car shuttled through the streets as streetlights cast shadows on Eileen’s face from time to time. Finally, it dropped at the entrance of a seven-star hotel.
She said, “Welburn, about my suggestion…”
His face was buried in the shadow, and his voice was flat. “I’ll think about it.”
“OK. See you tomorrow.”
Upon entering the lobby, she saw Cedrick Ewing, Welburn’s assistant, who had been waiting for her already. He gave her the keycard to her room.
Taking the card, she felt slightly embarrassed. Welburn paid for the meal and even arranged a room for her.
As Cedrick sent her upstairs, she probed, “Mr. Ewing, has Welburn been acting these past few years?”
Cedrick gave her a vague answer. “Not often.”
Not often? Did it mean he was still filming?
Back at the spacious suite, she curled up in bed, searching for Welburn’s information online.
But she basically found nothing. It was like someone had deliberately wiped his traces, and all she could find was the film they had acted together.
Besides, given how he dressed today, he was more like a businessman rather than an actor.
His identity was such a big mystery.
Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up to take a look.
It was Welburn. He texted her, “I’ve got something to do tomorrow. I’ll come by later to take you to see someone.”
She replied, “Alright. Thanks.”
He texted her back, “Get some rest. Goodnight.”
She sent him an emoji, which was a bunny falling into sleep while holding the moon.
In Warington.
Fremont, who had just come out of a business gathering, stumbled home. In the past, Eileen would have come to him at once and supported him.
But today, it was Helga Livingston, the maid. “Mr. Woodward, why did you drink so much?”
He slumped to the sofa, loosened his tie, and instinctively called out, “Eily.”
“Mrs. Woodward left last night.”
Fremont looked around, a bit drunk. Everything was still the same, even including Coco, who was on the cat tree. She hated the pungent smell of alcohol and looked at him while tilting her head.
The bedroom was still as cozy as ever, but everything made him feel cold.
“Right,” he thought. “I know why. Eily ran away from home because I pissed her off.”
Eileen was about to drift to sleep when her phone rang. In the next second, Fremont’s drunk voice rang out. “Eily, I’m sorry. I was wrong. I really was. I don’t wanna fight with you anymore. Where are you? I’ll take you home, OK?”
Instantly, she was no longer sleepy. She sat up and looked outside at the unfamiliar view through the floor-to-ceiling window, feeling a sense of strangeness as if she were abroad.
She didn’t answer and heard Helga’s voice. “Mr. Woodward, have some hangover soup, OK?”
“No. I wanna find Eily back…”
Eileen hung up, tears streaming down her cheeks.
She hugged her knees with her arms, her nails digging into her pajamas.
She thought, “But Fremont, we can never go back.”
The next day.
Waking up from the hangover, Fremont felt a splitting headache. He was momentarily at a loss as he looked at his empty embrace.
Eileen had been gone for two days already.
He struggled to get up, feeling weak all over. He could no longer hear her complaint about him drinking, and those slender fingers massaging his head as well as soup with rich aroma were nowhere to be found.
Traces reminding him of her existence were everywhere, only she was gone.
With a cigarette in his mouth, he walked onto the balcony and called Alfred. “Is she still staying at the hotel?”
“She checked out already and bought a plane ticket to Palsbury yesterday. Mr. Woodward, is … Mrs. Woodward leaving you?”
Smoking, Fremont said coldly, “She’ll never leave Warington as long as Noelle is here.”
Knowing Noelle McPherson was Eileen’s grandma, Alfred asked, “Is she trying to find an opportunity in Palsbury?”
“She knows no one there except a dying old director. No one can help her. Perhaps she just wanted to leave town for a bit.”
He had anticipated this and even had someone look into it. The old director receiving treatment in Palsbury had terminal cancer and would die soon.
In no time, Eileen would realize that no matter how big the world was, only he could protect her.
He shouldn’t push her too hard, or she’d end up hating him more.
Putting out his cigarette, he walked to the garden, cut some roses planted by Eileen, and put them in a vase.
Coco jumped up to the vase and sniffed the roses.
He took a photo and posted it on Instagram.
The caption was, “Coco misses her mommy. So do I.”
Chelsea was the first to give him a like.
Only then did he notice Chelsea used the same profile picture Eileen had used before.
Frowning slightly, he thought, “How disgusting.
“Surely, Chelsea isn’t stupid enough to think she means something just because she’s carrying my child, is she?”
He changed his profile picture to a photo of Coco sniffing the roses, wanting to tell Eileen he had been waiting for her to come home.
Then he blocked and deleted Chelsea on WhatsApp.
Meanwhile, Chelsea was smiling in glee, thinking that now that she had forced Eileen away, it was only a matter of time before she became Fremont’s wife.
She saw his profile picture—a kitten was sniffing roses.
Was that just a coincidence? She didn’t think so. A rosy hue spread across her cheeks as she imagined Fremont kissing her.
She thought, “If I get to be hugged and kissed by Fremont, that gilded prince who’s always so aloof, my life will be complete.
“Now that he and Eileen are fighting, it’s the perfect time for me to swoop in.”
Bracing herself, she texted Fremont.
Yet, a system notification popped out.
He had blocked her.
Panic set in.
Just then, Alfred called her. She answered at once and said in an affectedly sweet voice, “What’s up, Alfred?”
Alfred’s serious voice rang out. “Mr. Woodward wants you to know you’ll get what you deserve once you deliver. But if you want anything that doesn’t belong to you, you’ll end up with nothing.”
“Alfred, Mr. Woodward got me wrong. I…”
Without giving her a chance to explain, Alfred lowered his voice and threatened, “Shut the fuck up, Chelsea. Do you think Mr. Woodward is a fool or something? Mrs. Woodward means the world to him. If you upset her again, believe me or not, you’re gonna suffer after you give birth.
“Just a friendly reminder—never underestimate how much Mr. Woodward loves her. So, change that damn profile picture now!”
