Olivia Young didn't come downstairs for dinner that night.
Frederick Fairfax assumed she was terrified after witnessing Annabelle Winters’s miscarriage—mother to mother, perhaps she felt a chill of dread.
He could only comfort her: their baby would be fine.
The family doctor was on standby around the clock now. Even more staff had been added to look after her.
“Not bad. You’re really outdoing yourself as a stepdad.” Olivia Young managed a faint smile. “A model father.”
“I’m not looking for your praise—I just want you at ease. What happened to Annabelle Winters won’t happen to you.” As Frederick Fairfax spoke, his palm gently rested atop her pregnant belly—round and reassuring.
“Of course it won’t.”
She wasn’t worried about that at all.
The next day, Frederick Fairfax returned to the film set.
Olivia Young continued resting at home, focusing on prenatal care and giving the baby every possible advantage, while also racking her brain for ways to dodge getting dragged back into the main plotline. She refused to become cannon fodder for the hero and heroine’s romantic drama.
——
As the city lights flickered on, a Rolls-Royce parked conspicuously beneath an ordinary apartment building, drawing a sea of gawkers.
Grace Gordon stepped out, impeccably dressed in his tailored suit. His assistant, Freddie Young, followed, lugging two huge bags.
There was no elevator here, only stairs. They made their way up to the third floor and knocked.
A bout of grumbling drifted out from inside.
Grace Gordon frowned slightly. The door swung open to reveal a chubby, middle-aged man. “Who are you, huh? Oh, I know—you're that Mr. Gordon, right? The one who ruined my daughter’s life! Pay up!”
“Dad!”
Annabelle Winters rushed out, grabbing her father’s arm. “Mr. Gordon, why are you here?”
“To check up on you.”
With a glance from Grace Gordon, Assistant Ford placed the bags inside. The two men walked into the cramped rental room.
Mr. An yanked his arm free, glaring. “You destroyed my daughter’s reputation and got her pregnant out of wedlock! You’re the boss of some fancy company, but my daughter’s still a human being! You better take responsibility—marry her!”
“Dad!!” Annabelle Winters flushed with shame and anger, desperately wishing he’d shut up.
“You keep your mouth shut!” Mr. An snapped. “Useless girl—let yourself get slept with and end up knocked up before marriage! How did I wind up with a daughter like you?”
“Mr. Gordon, Assistant Ford, you should leave.” Annabelle Winters pleaded with her eyes. She didn’t want them to see her family like this.
“Nobody’s leaving!”
Mr. An blocked Grace Gordon’s way. “What, you think just because we’re poor you can take advantage of us and walk away? If you look down on us, you never should’ve slept with her!”
Grace Gordon’s expression remained icy. He cut straight to the heart of the matter. “How much do you want?”
Mr. An hadn’t seen that coming. So agreeable?
But how much should he ask for? Back home, bride prices were only a few tens of thousands. This was Beijing, though—and Grace Gordon was loaded to boot.
Emboldened, Mr. An boldly held up five fingers.
Grace Gordon’s answer was chilling: “Five million.”
Mr. An had meant fifty thousand, but in Grace Gordon’s eyes it became five million! Five million! Was his daughter worth that much? Jackpot!
“Five million! Great! When do I get it?” Mr. An was so excited the rolls of fat on his face trembled with anticipation.
“Dad, you can’t—”
He wheeled on her, eyes bulging. “This isn’t your place to talk! Get out!”
Grace Gordon’s eyes turned colder. “That attitude—I don’t like it. Annabelle Winters, go pack your things.”
“Why?”
Annabelle Winters looked lost. This was her home—where did Grace Gordon expect her to go?
“Good, good! She should go take care of you! Wanwan is great at looking after people!” Mr. An instantly saw Grace Gordon as his ticket to endless riches.
Annabelle Winters didn’t have much; every cent of her wages had gone to support the family. Just one suitcase held all her belongings.
Freddie Young took her suitcase outside.
“Miss An, please come with me.”
Annabelle Winters looked back anxiously over her shoulder every few steps. Was Grace Gordon staying behind? What more could they possibly have to say?
Once outside, Freddie Young noticed her worry and reassured her: “Miss An, don’t worry—the boss is a gentleman. He won't harm your father.”
“But my father isn’t a gentleman! He never should’ve taken that money…”
Some things were bottomless pits. If her father got his hands on Grace Gordon’s money once, he’d never stop coming back for more.
On a sudden impulse, Annabelle Winters turned and ran back upstairs. Frantically, she threw open the door and burst inside.
In the dingy, damp living room, the distinguished Grace Gordon sat elegantly on the battered sofa, pen in hand, writing a check. Her father beamed at him, practically groveling with sycophantic glee.
Why had she even thought a fight might break out?
Grace Gordon finished writing the check. “Now it’s your turn.”
“My turn for what?” Mr. An tried to snatch the check.
Grace Gordon stood, the check pinched between his fingers. “Take this money, go back to your hometown. Build yourself a nice house, buy a car, pay for your wife’s treatment, put your son through school. But never gamble again.”
How did Grace Gordon know so much about their situation? Annabelle Winters felt an odd warmth bloom in her chest. He’d thought of everything.
Her family had never given her any sense of security—only rubbed salt in her wounds. It was no wonder she’d always felt so small.
Grace Gordon’s tone turned frigid: “If I ever hear you’ve gambled again, I’ll fire Annabelle Winters, kick her out of Beijing, and bulldoze your home until you're nothing but beggars.”
Mr. An’s smile froze, then returned in full force. “Yes, yes! I promise! You’re so generous, boss! My daughter’s yours now! Yours! From now on, I’m your father-in-law!”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Grace Gordon walked over to Annabelle Winters, handing her the check. “This is compensation for you. Or you can choose to keep the money for yourself.”
Mr. An immediately panicked. “Daughter, give it to Dad. Dad will use it to pay for your mom’s treatment, put your brother through school. Our family needs it badly. Dad’s a failure, can't earn enough, and it’s your mom who suffers...” He started to cry.
Annabelle Winters saw straight through to the crocodile tears. If she gave her father the check, she’d always be indebted to Grace Gordon. Five million—how many years would it take to pay that back?
But if she didn’t hand it over, her father would just make a scene. He’d barge into her workplace, storm her apartment, curse her for being unfilial, cry and scream—he’d make her life hell.
Annabelle Winters felt utterly trapped.
All of a sudden, her father lunged and snatched the check from her hands.
“It’s late! Time for you two to go! Go on, get out!”
“I’ll head home, too—have to stew some pig’s feet for your mom!”
“I’m off to the market right now!”
Annabelle Winters was shoved out the door.
Grace Gordon led the way, tall and distant, wholly out of reach.
Only at the bottom of the stairs did Annabelle Winters hesitantly speak. “Mr. Gordon, where am I supposed to go?”
“You’ll be staying somewhere else. Right now, your body needs to rest.”
Annabelle Winters lowered her eyes. “I’m fine here…”
“I don’t think you are.”
When the domineering CEO said no, there was no arguing. So she followed.
The car ride was silent. Annabelle Winters sat in the back seat, wanting to speak, but Grace Gordon had closed his eyes, clearly not interested in conversation.
They arrived at Grace Gordon’s spacious, high-end apartment. Freddie Young set down her suitcase and left, leaving just the two of them.
“Mr. Gordon!”
Annabelle Winters stood in the bright light, eyes rimmed red, pale face evoking sympathy. She looked at him, pleading.
“Don't overthink it. The money is your compensation, just as I said. You don’t have to pay it back. You’ll be staying here—I’ll move back to the villa. Take a month off and get some rest.”
With that, Grace Gordon turned to leave.
“Thank you.”
Thank him?
Thank him for ruining her reputation and causing her miscarriage?