A male reporter with slanted, shifty eyes gave a cold snort. "Security? I know the security guys here—how else do you think we got in?"
"Miss Ye, we’re just trying to make a living here. Why not throw us a bone and give us a couple of exclusive quotes?"
Cecilia Ye shook with anger at his words. "You’re feeding yourselves by exploiting other people’s privacy—is that really something to be proud of?"
The reporter’s eyes narrowed in contempt. Wasn’t this just the girl the Fu family picked up? She’d already been kicked out, yet she still put on a lofty, arrogant front.
Su Ai was his niece. She’d come home yesterday looking aggrieved, and after a bit of prying, he’d learned that this Cecilia Ye woman was the owner of the studio—she’d given Su Ai a hard time in class and had apparently spilled some gossip about the Fu family.
But he already knew all the juicy rumors; he had only missed out on the Fu family’s annual gala because he couldn’t get in. Now, with no hot headlines this month, this was his chance—not just for fame, but to help his niece blow off some steam.
The slant-eyed reporter squeezed forward, and with a snap, the wooden door’s latch broke. In a rush, more than a dozen reporters tumbled in.
Cecilia Ye recoiled, stumbling back two steps in fright.
The stone path in the garden was laid with small gaps between the slabs, and she was still in slippers. Her foot slipped into a crack, and she lost her balance, pitching backward.
Her mind went blank, her heart skipped a beat—she could barely think. Terrified. Baby... Her small hands instinctively covered her belly.
Then a strong arm caught her, and she landed safely in a familiar embrace—no pain at all.
Shivering, Cecilia Ye fluttered her lashes open and looked up straight into Xavier Fostern’s worried, anxious eyes.
"Zhiyen..."
Her lashes were damp, her face pale from fright, delicate and drawn, her whole body trembling.
Xavier Fostern’s heart clenched. He held her tighter, lifting his gaze to the crowd of reporters before him, his expression turning so cold it was almost unbearable to meet his eyes.
Everyone froze. No one had told them the president of the Fu Group was here—if they had known, they wouldn’t have dared pick today to stir up trouble.
And looking at the scene... was President Foster protecting Miss Ye?
Xavier Fostern pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth—a habit whenever he was angry—his gaze full of disgust.
He was tall and strong, and with a swipe, he yanked the camera from a nearby reporter’s hands and flung it to the ground, following up with a swift kick that sent it flying.
The camera smashed into the red brick wall of the garden with a loud crack, shards scattering everywhere.
Everyone recoiled in shock. The slant-eyed reporter stammered as he stepped forward, "P-President Foster, there’s no need to get upset with us… we, we were only… only…"
But under Xavier Fostern’s icy glare, he choked, the rest of his words dying on his lips.
A few reporters in the back tried to slip away quietly.
"Trying to leave?" Xavier Fostern spat icily.
Those trying to escape halted, realizing there was no way Xavier Fostern would let them go. The whole villa district was covered in surveillance—there was no escape, even if they managed to slip out now.
"S-sorry, President Foster… we just came because the trending searches online said something was happening here…"
"Trending, huh?"
Some of the younger reporters in the back, new to the job, didn’t even realize who Xavier Fostern was—they figured he was just the boss of some company, no big deal. They’d only come to ride the wave, and now all they got was trouble and this man barking orders at them. Annoyance flashed across their faces; a few forcefully pushed the person in front of them and bolted for the door.
From the moment Xavier Fostern lost his temper, Cecilia Ye had been pulled close, clinging tightly to his clothes with frightened hands.
The group another reporter, caught off guard by the shoving, stumbled forward—just as a camera tumbled toward her, Xavier Fostern blocked it with his hand, getting a cut in the process.
Several of the reporters crashed to the ground with groans. Xavier Fostern brushed off his injured hand without a second thought, took out his phone and ordered the developer at Qingshui Bay to get their security over, and told Henry Hart to come clean up the mess.
Those left on the ground struggled to their feet, uncertain whether to leave or stay.
"Uncle…?" came a delicate voice from outside the broken door.
Su Ai had thought that by the time she came over, her uncle would have scared Cecilia Ye half to death, and she’d catch some humiliating shots for good measure. But instead, her uncle was crawling up from the ground in utter disgrace.
She hurried over to help her uncle up. The moment Xavier Fostern saw her, he immediately understood what was really going on. He released Cecilia Ye and effortlessly grabbed Su Ai’s arm—at almost 1.9 meters tall, Xavier Fostern made lifting Su Ai seem like nothing.
"You?" He let out a cold laugh. "Yesterday, I really underestimated you."
Su Ai shuddered in fright, but forced herself to speak. She tossed her head up and bit out, "Yeah, it was me! Didn’t you abandon Cecilia Ye at the gala? Why all this fake concern now?"
Xavier Fostern’s grip tightened suddenly, bone grinding against bone until she cried out in pain. "Let go! Let me go! Am I wrong? Everybody says Cecilia Ye is just the backup!"
Cecilia Ye was stunned by Su Ai’s words; so this girl who quietly painted in her studio had always seen her as some melodrama’s pitiful heroine, coming by each day just to enjoy the spectacle.
Fury burned in Xavier Fostern; he no longer cared if Su Ai was a girl. He pinched her chin so hard she couldn’t get out a word.
"Good. Very good. I hope you’re ready to answer for what you’ve said."
Su Ai’s uncle rushed to plead, tugging on Xavier Fostern’s hand. "Xiao Ai, Xiao Ai, stop! Enough, already!"
Su Ai’s cheeks turned bright red from the force. Tears welled in her eyes.
Xavier Fostern knew how deeply those words hurt Cecilia. Yes, all of this was his fault. But he would not stand by and let Su Ai stab her heart over and over again.
Cecilia Ye’s heart was raw with disappointment and anger. Maybe, in everyone’s eyes, this was just the way things were—Su Ai was just a young girl who’d called her teacher a few days in the studio.
She didn’t pity Su Ai, but she didn’t want to stay here any longer, either.
Xavier Fostern felt a gentle tug on his sleeve. When he turned, he saw the desolate hurt on Cecilia’s face—a pain that struck him to the core.
"Zhiyen, let’s just leave her."
She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself. She didn’t want to stand here, trapped, in this farce any longer.
Seeing her like this, Xavier Fostern felt his heart break. He shook Su Ai off with a rough motion and swept Cecilia Ye up into his arms, striding into the villa.
There was no expression left on Cecilia’s face, but in her eyes, he saw a sorrow that was shattered and beyond repair.
It reminded him of all those times he’d left her without a word—Cecilia always wore that same look, so dim and lost it robbed her of any light.
He’d never understood before, had never thought much about it. Now he realized: Cecilia had always hidden her heartbreak and pain behind that stubborn front.
For all those years before he met her, for all those days trapped with that cruel, unkind family, no one had helped her, no one had protected her. She could only survive with silent endurance.
And later, he’d taken advantage of her feelings, hurting her again and again. What right did he, Xavier Fostern, have to claim to be any better than Theodore Zane?
His heart felt torn into pieces, each one aching with regret.
He leaned down, brushing his lips softly against Cecilia’s cheek, his handsome brow knitted in a knot that would never come undone.