CHAPTER 50: CHAPTER 50: FEEDING HER

Zinnia Lawrence sniffled, rubbing her face against Jenson Forrest’s chest. Her damp, icy hair clung to his skin, creating a cold, tickling sensation.

Jenson’s thin lips pressed together. "Stop playing innocent. It’s useless. Do you need me to list your recent misdeeds for you?"

Zinnia held onto Jenson’s waist. The warmth from his body seeped into hers, bringing with it a reassuring scent.

Her eyes burned. "I don’t want to talk..."

As her body began to warm up, a delayed but extreme chill washed over her. Zinnia snuggled deeper into Jenson’s embrace, holding him even tighter. He lowered his gaze, his dark eyes studying her, but he didn’t press her with more questions.

Jenson’s body felt like a large furnace. Instead of her draining his warmth, he only seemed to grow hotter. Lying in his arms, Zinnia gradually stopped trembling. She felt as comfortable as if she were back in the womb. She closed her eyes as the exhaustion from her earlier fear and tension washed over her.

"Zinnia. Don’t you dare fall asleep."

She hasn’t explained a single thing, and she thinks she can just sleep her way out of it? Who spoiled her into thinking she could get away with that?

Jenson gave the woman in his arms a little push. Zinnia looked up at him, her eyebrows arching slightly.

"Third Brother, you’re a lot like someone."

Jenson seemed to consider something. Shadows flickered in his eyes, and his voice was tense as he asked, "Like who?"

Zinnia’s red lips curled. "A mama bird..."

Her answer was so unexpected that Jenson fell silent for a moment, his thin lips pressing into a sharp, restrained line.

"Is a ’mama bird’ a person?"

What the hell is a ’mama bird’? Plainly put, that’s an animal, isn’t it? He suspected she was implying he wasn’t human. He let out a cold laugh and pushed her away. "Let go. Get away from me."

Zinnia lowered her head and laughed, though her eyes stung as if filled with acid.

Sometimes, she truly felt that Jenson was like her mama bird. Just because he had carried her, half-dead, out of that snowstorm all those years ago, she had clung to him like a fledgling fresh from its shell. He had become entangled with her, shouldering the responsibility of protecting and caring for her. Just like now, warming her with his own body—he did it so naturally, as if it were an instinct etched into his very bones. But he wasn’t a mama bird, and he had no real responsibility for her. It had always been unfair to him. Would there come a day when, after shedding this fledgling complex, she could finally stop loving him?

"Alright, I’ll roll over then."

Zinnia released her grip and started to roll toward the other side of the bed. But before she had moved far, Jenson hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her back.

The man leaned over and grabbed the whiskey from the nightstand. Pushing the cap off with his thumb, he took a swig before lowering his head to capture Zinnia’s lips. The rich aroma of alcohol and his masculine scent immediately pressed down on her.

Terrified, Zinnia clenched her jaw and twisted her head away to dodge him.

"Mmm... Don’t, let go..."

She resisted fiercely. Jenson swallowed the whiskey and pinched her jaw.

"I’m no mama bird. Why struggle?"

Zinnia’s struggles brought a rosy blush to her cheeks, chasing away her pallor. Her moist almond eyes, framed by her damp, dark hair, looked like rain-slicked begonia flowers. Jenson’s gaze darkened, and Zinnia hastily gasped for air.

"I can’t drink..."

Jenson’s deep-set eyes narrowed mockingly. "What is it now? Another ’intermittent’ alcohol allergy?"

Zinnia pursed her lips. "I have a bit of a cold. I took antibiotics this afternoon."

Jenson stared at her, his gaze piercing. Zinnia bit her tongue to keep herself from guiltily looking away.

Just then, his phone rang abruptly.

Jenson had only intended to give Zinnia the alcohol to warm her up. He decided not to probe whether she had really taken antibiotics, so he put the bottle down and picked up his phone.

It was Winston Forrest.

Before Jenson could answer, Zinnia shot up from his arms. "Quick, answer it!" she urged. Her own phone had been smashed and was now in an evidence bag at the police station. A call from Winston right now had to be about Kane Donovan, so Zinnia was naturally anxious.

Seeing her eagerness, Jenson’s expression remained neutral, but his eyes turned cold. "It’s his call, and you’re this anxious? Should I let you take it?" he asked sarcastically.

In her urgency, Zinnia completely missed his tone. She actually took the phone he offered and swiped to answer.

"Winston, it’s me. Did you..."

Before Zinnia could finish, the phone was snatched from her hand.

Jenson’s handsome face darkened. He spoke into the phone, "You’ve been back for days. Is your internal clock still not adjusted? Still keeping overseas hours?"

"Did I disturb your rest, Third Brother?" Winston replied.

"Good to know you’re aware!"

"I just have a few words for Zinnia. Could you please pass the phone to her, Third Brother?"

"Anything you have to say, you can say to me..." Before Jenson could finish, Zinnia, wrapped in her bathrobe, scrambled up and snatched the phone back.

She jumped out of bed and walked out onto the balcony, her voice tense. "Is he... dead?"

"He was revived and is already out of danger. They’ve moved him to a regular ward," Winston said from the end of a hospital corridor. Hearing Zinnia let out a long sigh of relief, a faint smile touched his lips. "You can relax now, right? Get some rest. Fifth Brother will handle the rest for you."

"Okay, thank you, Fifth Brother." Zinnia leaned against the railing, a relieved smile spreading across her face. In any case, the fact that he hadn’t died was a great weight off her mind.

Winston, however, rubbed his nose. "Did I interrupt something between you and Third Brother? He sounded pretty mad. I should probably hang up."

Before Zinnia could react, he had ended the call.

Clutching the phone, Zinnia realized Winston had misunderstood, and her cheeks flushed faintly. She turned and went back into the room, just as Jenson walked out of the dressing room. He was fully dressed to go out.

Stunned, Zinnia walked over and handed the phone back to him. "I ran into some robbers on a motorbike today," she explained. "They stole my phone and bag. I happened to run into Winston... He just called to say my bag has been found."

Jenson took the phone, seemingly unconcerned about the danger she had faced that night. With a cold expression, he slid the phone into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and started to walk away.

Zinnia grabbed his sleeve. "It’s so late, you’re still going out? Oh, and have you changed the dressing on your wound? Let me help you with it."

Zinnia hadn’t forgotten that she had agreed to return to Sovereign Court temporarily because of Jenson’s arm injury. Besides, she was still a little scared from the night’s events and wanted him to stay.

But Jenson simply pulled his sleeve from her grasp. "No need. Anyone can change a dressing."

Without giving her another chance to stop him, he strode out of the room. Zinnia stared blankly at his retreating back. The warmth she had felt in his embrace just moments ago was now replaced by a heart-numbing chill. The sound of a car starting echoed from downstairs before fading into silence.

Didn’t he just tell Winston that he would take care of his own wife? Had he already forgotten? Zinnia swayed, realizing she had been standing frozen in place for a long time.

The sound of running water was still coming from the bathroom. She walked in to find that the hot water was already overflowing from the tub. She took a hot bath anyway and crawled into bed. As soon as she closed her eyes, horrible images flashed through her mind.

The blankets and pillow still seemed to hold traces of Jenson’s scent. She tossed and turned for what felt like an eternity before she finally hugged a pillow and drifted off to sleep.

The fog was thick. She was running barefoot through a maze of alleys, the sound of footsteps shadowing her every move. No matter how she fled, she couldn’t break free, couldn’t escape. Suddenly, a hideous, blood-plastered face lunged from the mist and grabbed her by the throat.

"Ah!"

Zinnia cried out, bolting upright. She was drenched in a cold sweat, as if she had just been pulled from a river.

After getting ready, Zinnia went downstairs. Aunt Kramer was coming out of the dining room.

"Ma’am, breakfast is ready. Would you like to have it now?"

Zinnia nodded, and Aunt Kramer pointed to the coffee table. "Those two boxes together were sent over by Fifth Master this morning. The other one next to them is from the Mister for you."

Zinnia walked over and opened the boxes from Winston first. Inside were a new purse and a brand-new phone, the same model as her old one, with her SIM card already installed. A smile bloomed on Zinnia’s face, and she opened WeChat to thank Winston.

As she was exiting the app, she instinctively glanced at her Moments and immediately saw Crystal Sutton’s new post. It read, "In this world, when you get hurt, there’s always someone who feels more pain than you do." The post was accompanied by a photo of a bloody bandage, and Sienna Forrest had commented below: "Who’s the person making Crystal’s heart ache? I know! It’s Third Brother!"

Zinnia recalled Jenson’s parting words from the night before—"Anyone can change a dressing." A mocking smile touched her lips as she emotionlessly closed WeChat.

The box Jenson had left for her was sitting to the side. She didn’t even want to look at it. But it was rather large, and her curiosity got the better of her. She lifted the lid.

When she saw what was inside, Zinnia’s face darkened. It was a green fish-head mask.

Jenson is such a child!

THUD. Zinnia slammed the lid back on in disgust.