Chapter 225: Messing with Me on Purpose?

Chapter 225: Chapter 225: Messing with Me on Purpose?

Justine Hughes came to a sudden halt. She instinctively started for the door, then stopped short as a thought struck her.

She looked up at the full-length mirror. The reflection staring back was pale and gaunt, her body stooped and frail, utterly devoid of its former luster. She didn’t want Tristan Forrester to see her looking so weak and wretched.

Composing herself, she spoke softly.

"Tyson, what is it?"

A man’s deep voice came from outside the door.

"We roasted a whole lamb. Why don’t you come down and have some with us?"

"No, thank you. I’m tired and want to rest early."

Tristan Forrester frowned slightly, easily detecting the oddness in her tone.

"Justine, are you unwell? Open the door."

"I’m fine. Go have fun with the others."

The words had barely left her lips when she heard footsteps retreating from the door. Justine Hughes turned, and just as she took a step toward the bed, she tripped. Losing her balance, she fell hard, her forehead striking the corner of a table. A sharp pain shot through her, making her vision go dark and her mind blank.

"Ah..."

A stifled groan escaped her lips. She lay on the floor, clutching her forehead, unable to recover for a long while.

Outside, Tristan Forrester and Bella Thorne, who were just about to leave, both heard the strange noise from the room. Their hearts clenched. They exchanged a look and stared at the closed door.

"Justine! What happened? Open the door!"

The room was dead silent. There was no response.

Bella Thorne said softly, "I’ll go ask President Rivers for the spare key."

"Okay. Go quickly, and be careful."

A moment later, Bella Thorne returned with the key. Tristan Forrester snatched it, pushed open the door, and rushed inside. His deep eyes narrowed the instant he saw the scene.

Justine Hughes was slumped against the bed, her face paper-white. A trail of bright red blood snaked from her forehead down her cheek. Her eyes were shut tight, her expression contorted in pain.

"Justine Hughes!"

Tristan Forrester rushed forward, carefully lifting her into his arms and placing her on the bed.

Bella Thorne’s fingers tightened. "Miss Hughes, are you okay?" she asked, her voice filled with worry.

The painkiller she had taken earlier began to work, and the churning agony in her chest subsided slightly. Justine Hughes slowly opened her eyes to see the two worried faces looking down at her.

"I’m fine, it’s just an old ailment acting up."

Bella Thorne’s gaze fell on a pill bottle on the floor. She bent to pick it up and saw it was for painkillers. Placing the bottle gently on the nightstand, she turned to have someone fetch the first-aid kit.

"You’ve cut your forehead and it’s bleeding. Let me help you clean the wound."

The injury wasn’t severe, but it had bled a lot.

A faint, dismissive smile touched Justine Hughes’s lips. "No, thank you. I’ll take care of it myself later. You should both go."

"Bonnie, go wait for me outside," Tristan Forrester said suddenly, his voice low.

Bella Thorne pursed her lips. Remembering what Vesper Grayson had said earlier, she hesitated for a moment before turning and leaving the room.

The door was left ajar, and she could clearly hear the conversation from inside.

"Tyson, you should go too. I don’t want Miss Thorne to get the wrong idea or hold it against you."

"Bonnie isn’t a petty person. And seeing you like this, how could I just walk away?"

Justine Hughes’s eyes reddened instantly, and her voice caught in a sob.

"It’s all my fault. I’ve caused so much trouble for you two! I never should have come back to Portclyde, never should have shown up in front of you." She gazed at Tristan Forrester, her eyes welling with tears. "Tyson, do you still hate me? Do you hate me for choosing my career, for heartlessly throwing away our relationship?"

Tristan Forrester’s expression was calm, his tone detached. "No. I respect your decision and your choice."

He had never been one to force others. When Justine Hughes had been determined to pursue her future, he had let her go to grant her wish.

A pang of sorrow hit Justine Hughes. She reached out, gripping his hand tightly, her voice thick with unshed tears.

"I was always so sure you loved me deeply, that you would never leave me. That’s why I was so willful and selfish. But I never imagined... that you would actually get married..."

Tristan Forrester gently cleaned the wound on her forehead, his expression remaining calm and detached.

"No one is indispensable in this world. You made your choice back then. You should look ahead and keep moving forward."

"You’ve become so famous in the world of dance over the years. That’s proof enough that you made the right choice."

’She was born for the stage. Forcing her to give up her passion would have been like breaking a bird’s wings.’

Hot tears streamed down Justine Hughes’s face, her heart filled with regret. "But I lost you—the most important partner in my life."

Bella Thorne didn’t listen any longer. She turned and walked away without a sound.

’She wasn’t a part of their past, and she certainly didn’t want to hear them reminisce about it.’

Instead of going downstairs, she returned to her bedroom.

A bath, medicine, sleep... She thought she wouldn’t sleep well, but she was wrong. She fell asleep surprisingly quickly, sinking into a deep slumber in no time.

...

Meanwhile, Vesper Grayson, having eaten her fill and enjoyed the evening, was starting to feel tired. Seeing how late it was getting, Jared Hawthorne led her back to their room.

After freshening up, she sprawled lazily on the soft bed.

’Tonight is supposed to be our wedding night, but since I’m pregnant, we can’t do anything!’

Jared Hawthorne leaned over, gently pulling her into his embrace and pressing a light kiss to her smooth forehead.

"Mrs. Hawthorne, happy wedding night."

Vesper Grayson’s lips curved into a smile as her slender hand slipped restlessly under his shirt, freely stroking the firm, warm muscles beneath. Jared Hawthorne immediately caught her mischievous hand. His deep eyes darkened, and his voice grew hoarse.

"You’re pregnant, and you’re still teasing me on purpose?"

A sly smile danced in Vesper Grayson’s eyes. Instead of pulling back, her fingertips lightly grazed his warm skin, her expression a mix of lazy charm and flirtation.

"Provoking you on purpose? I was just touching..."

’Seriously, though, his pecs and abs feel incredible!’

Jared Hawthorne stared down at the woman in his arms, his Adam’s apple bobbing uncontrollably. His hot breath washed over her ear.

"You started this fire. You’re going to put it out."

Ever since she’d gotten pregnant, Jared Hawthorne had been living like a monk, not daring to go too far for fear of harming the baby.

When it became unbearable, he would resort to cold showers or taking matters into his own hands.

The doctor had said the first three months were the most dangerous, and the fetus wouldn’t be stable until the last three months.

’God only knew how hard it was for him to hold back.’

Vesper Grayson’s cheeks flushed, but that didn’t stop her from giving his abs a pinch.

"And how would President Hawthorne like me to put it out?"

Jared Hawthorne gripped her chin. "You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? Because you know I can’t do anything to you."

Vesper Grayson blinked, the picture of innocence. "What? You’re my own husband. Can’t I even touch you a little?"

’My own husband...’ Those three words were all it took to please him.

Jared Hawthorne grabbed her mischievous hand and pressed it against him.

He was hard as iron, poised for action.

Startled, Vesper Grayson snatched her hand back and recoiled. She didn’t dare tease him anymore.

’This jerk. He can’t take a little teasing at all!’

"Honey, I was just kidding! The doctor said the first three months are the most fragile for the baby..."

Jared Hawthorne licked his lips. His eyes were pitch-black, glinting with a dangerous light, his desire fully aroused.

"Tonight, we’ll try something special. I guarantee it won’t hurt the baby... and it will be a night Mrs. Hawthorne will never forget..."