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Chapter_6
Abigail helped Quinn remove her helmet. Both of them were drenched, but the coffee in Quinn’s arms remained safe.
Abigail chuckled, “Crazy people. Big company, no coffee machine, so they have to order delivery.” Taking the coffee from Quinn, she smiled, “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”
Quinn nodded and quietly walked to the front gate to wait.
She gazed at the curtain of rain ahead, her expression distant. The day Ulysses had brought her to Alexander’s place, it had also poured rain. She had timidly hidden behind Ulysses as nine-year-old Alexander scrutinized her. He had asked who she was.
Ulysses had joked, “Your future wife. Interested?”
Nine-year-old Alexander had scoffed, “I don’t want a monkey as my wife.”
Back then, she had been thin, pale, with dry, yellowish hair—perhaps not even as charming as a zoo monkey. But Alexander had then added, “If you don’t eat more, how can you be my wife when you’re so thin?”
Though Alexander had been joking, Quinn always took it seriously.
Lost in thought, she was snapped back to reality by a voice.
“In this heavy rain, I don’t feel like working. I’m leaving first!”
It was Getty, stepping out of the company gates in high heels, and then spotting the drenched Quinn.
“Quinn?” Getty was on the phone with Alexander, who heard her mention Quinn’s name. Turning back to the building, Getty hung up and walked toward Quinn. “Here to see Alexander?”
Quinn shook her head.
Getty raised an eyebrow, sneering. “Alexander says you’re naive, but you don’t seem that innocent. Coming here drenched, trying to get his sympathy?” She pinched a wet strand of Quinn’s hair, mocking, “You look so pitiful!”
A smug expression settled on Getty’s face. “Don’t play these tricks. Alexander doesn’t like you. To him, you’re just a pet cat or dog!”
Quinn pressed her lips together tightly, her face pale from the cold rain.
Getty didn’t need to say it; Quinn already knew it herself. Many times, the way Alexander looked at her felt no different than how he looked at the pets at home. Alexander loved the cat they had, and if he forgot to feed it before work, he’d return just to feed it.
At that moment, Abigail emerged with the coffee, swiftly stepping in front of Quinn to shield her. She looked Getty up and down, her tone sharp, “Don’t you dare bully Quinn!”
Getty’s face turned dark with rage. “How dare you insult me?”
Arms crossed, Abigail playfully raised an eyebrow, “What’s wrong with calling you out? Did I lie? You’re just a filthy woman!”
“You—” Getty was left speechless, her face livid.
She detested being called names. If it weren’t for Quinn, she should have been the one married to Alexander. Why was she being insulted?
Used to taking advantage of Alexander’s favor, Getty had always been arrogant. No one had ever dared insult her to her face like this. She raised her hand to strike Abigail, but Abigail wouldn’t stand for it. Before Getty could land a slap, Abigail struck first.
With a scream, Getty fell to the ground, her face swelling from the blow, and her foot twisted awkwardly from the high heels.
Clutching her foot in pain, tears streamed down Getty’s face.
Abigail looked down at Getty with disdain. “You think you can hit me? You deserve this!”
Despite the pain, Getty glared at Abigail, her hatred simmering.
Abigail pulled the startled Quinn to her side. “Let’s go!”
Quinn kept looking back. She saw Alexander rushing out of the company, lifting Getty from the ground. Even through the rain, his tender expression was visible. But he didn’t seem to notice Quinn in the downpour.
Abigail started the motorcycle engine and sped off into the rain.
The heavy rain blurred Quinn’s vision, and the towering company building before her became a shapeless blur.
