Chapter 6

Angela frowned and denied it without a second thought.

However, the manager didn't believe her. "Regardless, we just found out that you have no work experience. I'm sorry, but we can't hire a complete newbie like you."

Even though Angela repeatedly assured him of her expertise in design, the manager was adamant about not going through with hiring her.

As Angela stared at the manager, who looked deeply troubled, she instantly understood everything.

It was Dexter! He was forcing her to give in!

Amidst the strange gazes everyone was casting her way, Angela took her belongings and left.

At that moment, she felt an urge to call Dexter and ask him why he was doing this. Still, she resisted that impulse and refrained from acting on it.

She kept convincing herself not to let this get to her. It was just a job—she could find another.

Angela dragged her exhausted body back to her rented apartment, only to find her belongings thrown out and lying miserably in the hallway. Nothing had been spared—even her brand-new bedding and toiletries had suffered the same fate as they lay in a pile outside.

Shocked and furious, she immediately called the landlord.

"Sorry, but I can't rent to you anymore. I'll transfer your rent back," the landlord replied curtly, not even giving her a chance to question him.

Seconds later, she received 2,000 dollars on Venmo.

Once again, the image of Dexter's handsome yet maliciously amused face appeared in her mind. Unable to bear it any longer, she called him.

For once, he picked up within ten seconds. "What's wrong? Have you finally come to your senses?"

His tone was casual, and there were the sounds of a lively gathering in the background. But the moment he spoke, everything around him fell silent. It seemed everyone was waiting to hear how Angela would make a fool of herself.

"Are you making my life difficult for fun, Dexter?" Angela asked. Her eyes were red, and her nose tingled. She was on the verge of tears. Yet, she forced herself to stay composed and not let her voice break.

On the other end, there was a brief pause before Dexter let out a cold laugh. "Of course I'm not doing it for fun. I want you to experience what life would be like without the Bamford family—"

"You're sick!" Angela spat harshly and hung up before he could finish his sentence.

Her shoulders shook slightly as she slid down the cold wall as tears finally streamed down her face. She wiped them away, but they wouldn't stop.

Dexter knew her pain more than anyone else, yet he had chosen to rub salt on her wounds.

"Dexter, you're a scumbag!" she screamed, her chest heaving.

After a long while, she slowly stood up and found a hotel through a quick online search on her phone. She needed somewhere to stay for a few days before she could start afresh.

…

Meanwhile, in a luxurious VIP suite at Mystique Bar, the earlier liveliness had vanished. In its place was an eerie silence. Everyone exchanged looks, seeing the shock and confusion mirrored in each other's eyes.

Who had Dexter been talking to on the phone just now? He had been cursed at, and the person had even hung up on him.

The shrill exclamation from earlier—"You're sick!"—seemed to linger in the air, weighing down the atmosphere even more.

Dexter's expression was grim. The scowl on his face was so pronounced that it intimidated the people around him. He gripped his phone tightly, staring at the phone screen, which showed that the call had ended.

The name "Angela" was right at the top of the list of recent calls. Staring at her name, Dexter seemed to see her defiant face in his mind's eye.

"What's wrong, Mr. Bamford?" asked a young man.

The person asking was Zayn Jewell, a childhood friend of Dexter's. He was the one who had arranged the gathering that evening.

"Nothing." After a brief silence, Dexter stood up and lifted his long legs to step over the obstacles blocking his way. As he walked out, he announced, "I'm leaving."

He was tall and muscular—even his back looked imposing.

Erica was already waiting outside. As Dexter tossed his coat to her, he ordered coldly, "Take me to Bliss Garden."

He thought Angela had acted out of line that day and that she needed stern disciplining. Angela's angry outburst reverberated in his mind constantly as he got into the car and seated himself.

Irritated, he loosened his tie.

Erica asked, "Mr. Bamford, why are you going to Bliss Garden?"

Normally, she wouldn't ask questions. Her reaction was out of the norm that day.

Dexter's expression darkened. "What? Do I need to report to you now?"

Erica turned pale instantly. She lowered her head and explained, "I'm sorry, Mr. Bamford. Mrs. Bamford is no longer at Bliss Garden."

Dexter frowned and asked irritably, "What do you mean? Where did she go?"

Erica recounted her conversation with Angela's landlord in Bliss Garden succinctly.

"Who told you to do that?" Dexter's gaze was icy, and he exuded a menacing chill all over.

No wonder Angela had been furious—she had been pushed to her limits.

Erica trembled in fear and struggled to come up with an adequate explanation that could justify her actions. However, her mouth felt like it was glued shut, and she couldn't utter a word.

"Find her!" Dexter ordered coldly. His expression remained the same, but it still sent a chill down Erica's spine.

The gentle summer night breeze blew softly. Angela trudged along the city's main street with all her belongings. She went from one hotel to another.

She had to admit that Dexter was ruthless. With just a little effort, he had plunged her into the depths of despair. This was a huge city, yet she couldn't even find a place to stay.

Angela had thought about going home, but that place was hardly home to her anymore.

Suddenly, it began to rain. As the rain grew heavier, Angela and her meager belongings were soaked through in no time.

Angela ran desperately in the rain. Eventually, she found shelter in a self-service banking kiosk. With that, she finally had a moment to catch her breath. She found a cheap motel that didn't require any registration on her phone.

When the rain stopped, she took a cab there. The motel was in poor condition, and it had thin walls. So, she didn't sleep well all night.

The next morning, she woke up with a fever. She felt hot for a moment, but cold in the next. Due to her sickness, she drifted in and out of consciousness.

Suddenly, Angela heard the door open. She jumped out of bed immediately, feeling alarmed.

Dexter stepped in, and it was clear he wasn't pleased.

When their eyes met, her guarded expression didn't soften in the slightest.

She asked, "What are you doing here?"

Of course, he was there to watch her misery.

What Dexter first noticed upon stepping in wasn't the defensive look on Angela's face. He scanned the shabby room and frowned while thinking, "I can't believe she'd rather stay here than admit defeat and come home."

"I came to see what my dear wife has been up to these past two days," Dexter said blandly, sitting down on the dingy couch.

The lingering scent of the previous occupants' body odor and sweat clung to it. The moment his nose caught the stench, he stood back up, feeling repulsed.

"So, is life on the streets fun?" he asked, looking at Angela with amusement.

He observed her frail frame. Though she looked thin and weak, her gaze was sharp and defiant. Something was different about her.

"It's none of your business." Angela's head ached, and her knees felt like they would buckle at any moment. Even her voice sounded lethargic.

She wrapped herself in her clothes and sneezed. It made her head throb even more.

Dexter quickly sensed that something was wrong with her. He stepped forward and grabbed her arm, noticing right away that she was burning up.

His hand shot up to her face and forehead, and an even warmer temperature registered on his fingers.