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The air in the living room was thick with silence; neither Zoey nor the man before her uttered a word.
From Zoey's perspective, she couldn't muster even a shred of fondness for this man, whose sudden arrival in Zion City had thrown her life into
disarray. She had hoped to discuss her upcoming marriage with Henry calmly and rationally, but Fitch's presence had turned everything upside down.
All she had ever wanted was a simple life.
Fitch extinguished his cigarette, his mind flooded with images of Zoey trying to protect Henry. His gaze hardened dangerously.
“Have you and Henry, you know, been together?” he asked abruptly.
Zoey thought she had misheard him. “Excuse me?”
“Have you?” he pressed.
Her fingers trembled with anger. “What business is it of yours, Mr. Haskins? By what right do you ask?”
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“So, you have.” His voice was laced with deep, unspoken emotions.
Suddenly, Zoey felt afraid, especially since Fitch had been injured earlier. He seemed like a man consumed by darkness, unpredictable and
dangerous.
She pursed her lips and moved to exit the room. Opening the living room door, she was met by Fitch's bodyguards. Despite the bandages wrapped
around his torso, Fitch's muscular form was tense, as if harboring a terrifying force.
Zoey was pulled back into the room, the door slamming shut behind them. Her face drained of color as she was pressed against the wall.
“How many times? You seem so concerned about him. He must make you very happy, huh?”
If anyone from Greenfield were here, they'd be shocked. Fitch had been notoriously reserved and cold for the past four years, rarely speaking more
than necessary to anyone except for Nolan, to whom he showed a bit of warmth.
Zoey couldn't move, overwhelmed by his presence, yet feeling deeply violated.
“Are you crazy?” she managed to say.
“Yes, I'm crazy. Henry is perfect, after all.” He laughed mockingly, his hand suddenly cradling her head, his gaze intense. “You used to say | was your
favorite, remember?”
It was all lies. He still despised women the most.
Zoey tried to slap him, but he caught her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. Her fingers twitched, and she didn't know what to do next.
He continued to kiss her hand, locking eyes with her. “You haven't answered me. How many times? Did he make you happy?”
Such questions were too embarrassing for any woman to answer.
Zoey was trembling with rage, biting her lip, trying to pull her hand away. But Fitch's grip was unyielding, all her attempts to break free futile.
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“Let go,” she demanded.
This man was a lunatic! A pervert!
Tears welled in her eyes from fear as he pulled her closer, her body shaking uncontrollably.
Fitch merely chuckled, “Afraid? | wouldn't dream of hurting you.”
His behavior was despicable!
Her fear was palpable, exacerbated by his imposing aura.
Fitch's hand moved lower, beginning to lift her skirt.
Her face turned ghostly pale, panic alarms blaring in her head.
“Let go! Stop it! What are you trying to do?”
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