CHAPTER 89: CHAPTER 89: I CAN

The villa was pitch-black, without a hint of light.

If Zinnia Lawrence hadn’t seen Jenson Forrest’s car enter Sovereign Court with her own eyes, she would have thought the house was vacant.

Thinking Jenson Forrest might have gone straight upstairs to rest, Zinnia didn’t turn on any lights, feeling her way up the stairs in the dark. But just as she stepped onto the staircase, a slightly hoarse voice suddenly rang out.

"Where are you going?"

"AH!"

Zinnia nearly jumped out of her skin. Clutching the banister, she followed the sound with her eyes and saw a shadowy figure on the sofa.

It was Jenson Forrest.

She caught her breath and frowned.

"What are you doing lying there in the middle of the night? You scared me to death, sitting here without any lights on!"

He clearly knew I’d come in but didn’t make a sound. Waiting until now to speak up... he was definitely trying to scare me on purpose.

Zinnia walked over and turned on the floor lamp in the sofa area.

The dim yellow light illuminated the man leaning back on the sofa. He opened his eyes slightly, his gaze cool and devoid of any sleepiness.

"This is my house. I can be wherever I want, and I can leave the lights off if I want. Unlike some people who break into another person’s home in the middle of the night and then try to shift the blame."

Zinnia felt a prick at his words "another person’s home." It didn’t hurt, but it made her feel subtly uncomfortable.

But he wasn’t wrong. This was no longer her home.

She apologized, "Sorry, I shouldn’t have barged in uninvited. It’s just that..."

The man’s face turned even colder as he cut her off.

"If you know that, then get out!"

Zinnia froze, clenching her phone so tightly that its edge pressed into her palm until it grew numb. She stood there, unmoving.

"Are you feeling unwell? Is it from the alcohol? I can make you a bowl of noodles. Or do you have a headache? I can massage your temples."

She put her phone and bag aside and reached out a hand.

She remembered Jenson Forrest was prone to headaches after drinking. She was here to ask for a favor, so even if his attitude was awful, she had to endure it. Her pride was nothing compared to Yara Fairchild’s well-being.

But before her hand could touch the man’s forehead, Jenson Forrest raised his own to block her.

His features were sharp and deeply set. "I don’t need anyone to wait on me," he said coldly. "Save your fake affection!"

Zinnia was speechless.

She silently withdrew her hand, no longer attempting to ease into the topic. She got straight to the point.

"About what happened tonight... Yara was arrested after Finn Quinn called the police, and they won’t grant her bail. Can you..."

"No! Get out."

Jenson Forrest cut Zinnia off, closing his eyes with a cold expression of someone whose patience had completely run out.

Zinnia’s breath hitched. "Can’t you just help me? Yara was only dragged into this because of me."

Jenson Forrest’s eyes snapped open, his gaze icy. "Zinnia, you’re the one who refused to be my wife at all costs. You’re the one who wanted to repay the thirty million and cut all ties with the Forrest Family, vowing to never see me again. Why should I put my own brother in a difficult position for you, someone who means nothing to me?"

Zinnia’s face turned pale. She knew it wouldn’t be easy before coming here, but facing his coldness head-on still made her heart ache with a sense of helplessness.

Seeing the redness rimming her eyes, Jenson Forrest stood up to leave.

Zinnia instinctively grabbed his wrist. He shook her off, and she stumbled back onto the sofa.

Seeing him about to walk away, she said with a tremor in her voice, "Didn’t you want breakup sex? I... I can do it."

Jenson Forrest stopped and turned to look down at her.

His figure was backlit, a dim yellow glow haloing him from behind. Zinnia couldn’t see his face, but she could feel his gaze on her like a pair of ice picks.

But she had no other choice. She thought about his intense physical reaction at the hotel, how he’d had to take such a long, cold shower. Other than this, she probably had nothing else to offer, nothing to negotiate with.

With trembling hands, she unbuttoned her blouse, took it off, then unzipped her pants and let them fall...

As her pants hit the floor, panic and confusion washed over her. It was mainly because he remained unresponsive, his cold, observational stance making her feel even more humiliated.

"Keep going. Take it all off," Jenson Forrest’s voice was laced with ice.

Zinnia couldn’t bring herself to remove anything else. She hugged herself, her face turning from pale to scorching hot.

The dim yellow light enveloped her. The woman’s small face was crimson, her eyes were red-rimmed, and her eyelashes trembled ceaselessly.

Her skin was as smooth as jade and flawless. She hugged herself, shivering.

She cut a pitiful figure. Yet, looking down from above, her exposed curves were both pathetic and alluring.

Emotions churned in Jenson Forrest’s dark eyes, but Zinnia’s courage suddenly deserted her. Just as she bent down, unable to stop herself from reaching for her pants, the man abruptly closed the distance, his large hand gripping her shoulder.

"Ah!"

Startled, Zinnia looked up to see him, her long hair swinging in front of her face.

Jenson Forrest pulled her around, forcing her to kneel on the sofa.

They had never been in this position before. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel his suppressed rage.

She broke down completely, tears streaming down her face. In sharp contrast to the warmth of his palm, Jenson Forrest’s voice was frigid and merciless.

"Didn’t you want breakup sex? You’re the one who stripped, so why are you hiding now? Do you have any idea how men treat women who offer themselves up in the middle of the night?"

Zinnia felt no warmth, only fear and humiliation.

She shook her head, her voice cracking.

"Don’t, not here..."

It was only then that Zinnia remembered the villa staff were likely still on duty. If they heard a commotion in the main house, they might come to check...

Her plea was met with a cold snort. Watching her tremble beneath his palm, he suddenly asked, "Whose men were those bodyguards at the winery today?"

Zinnia’s attention was consumed by his wandering hands. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she answered instinctively.

"They were Alaric’s... ah!"

She had borrowed the bodyguards from Alaric Hawthorne, who had wanted to come along. She had insisted he didn’t need to. If she had known this would happen, she would have gone by herself. Even if she couldn’t shake Yara, she never should have brought her along.

Jenson Forrest’s voice, now even colder, came from behind her.

"Heh. Did you strip just like this for him this afternoon, begging him to touch you and help you?"

A chill seized Zinnia, as if she’d been plunged into a frozen lake.

She stared numbly at the sofa beneath her. She had picked it out herself—a bright, warm orange. She had even personally designed the patterns on the custom-made throw pillows.

She had once fantasized about snuggling on this sofa with Jenson Forrest, watching cheesy dramas and feeding each other snacks... She had even imagined more intimate moments, like kissing and cuddling, but never something as humiliating as this. The depth of her past hopes now mirrored the depths of her cold, unbearable reality.

Zinnia suddenly began to struggle fiercely, silent tears falling down her cheeks.

"Jenson Forrest, you bastard! Let me go! I was desperate and not thinking straight tonight! I never should have come to you! I... Mmph!"

Her angry words were cut short as he flipped her over and sealed her lips with his.

Zinnia struggled, shaking her head and raising her hands to hit and scratch him, but he clasped her fingers tightly, pressing her down into the sofa.

He knelt over her, deepening the kiss.

Thrown back against the sofa, her long hair fanned out across the cushions, Zinnia was powerless to escape. She could only let him take whatever he wanted.

In the silent, dim living room, things grew more and more heated until the sudden ringing of Zinnia’s phone on the coffee table shattered the moment.

The sound seemed to snap Jenson Forrest back to his senses. The man lifted his head, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

Zinnia turned her head away and closed her eyes as more tears rolled down her cheeks. Under the dim light, the wet tracks on her face were distinctly visible.

Jenson Forrest looked down at her, his voice husky with mockery. "You’re the one who showed up in the middle of the night to cheapen yourself. And you still have the gall to cry?"