CHAPTER 38: CHAPTER 38: WHO OWES WHOM?

Holly suddenly snapped back to reality, and her face, which had finally returned to normal, blushed again.

"About last night..." She pursed her lips, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible, "We..."

Blake Sinclair put down his cup, leaned forward slightly, and spoke in a deep voice, "What do you want to say?"

Looking at him getting closer, Holly’s heartbeat unintentionally quickened, and the hands on her knees twisted even tighter.

Yesterday, she was momentarily muddled by the drug, but she still remembered that the two did not cross that line; Blake Sinclair helped her relieve the drug’s effect in the most restrained way.

But even so, he was Blake Sinclair, after all.

The heir of the Sinclair Family in Beldon, revered by all Beldonians, and the acknowledged untainted scion!

But last night, this scion was almost "completely consumed" by her.

She’s guilty!!!

"Last night... we didn’t take the final step, but..." Holly’s face grew redder as she spoke, and her ears were about to catch fire, "President Sinclair, you... you helped me a lot, I..."

Blake Sinclair looked at her flustered appearance, a slight smile on his lips: "So, how do you want to take responsibility?"

Holly was stunned and looked up at him, "Ah?..."

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze level with hers, his voice soft yet serious: "About last night, if you have any requests, I can meet them all. If you need to take responsibility, I can cooperate."

Holly: "...."

Oh my god.

Is this Chinese?

If she hadn’t misunderstood, Blake Sinclair sounded like... he was waiting for her to take responsibility?

She?

Holly opened her mouth, and after a long moment, finally squeezed out a sentence: "President Sinclair, you’re... not joking, right?"

Blake Sinclair raised his eyebrows, quietly looking at her: "You think I’m joking."

Feeling uneasy under his gaze, Holly lowered her voice and said, "About last night... regardless of what happened, thank you, President Sinclair, for your help."

She paused and spoke lighter as she went on, "If anyone should take responsibility, it should be me saying these things to you.."

Blake Sinclair’s eyes deepened, a hint of amusement flashing within: "Okay."

Holly: .....?

He agreed so quickly!

And... why did it seem that there was a hint of cheerfulness and even... anticipation in his words??

He spoke straightforwardly, but Holly dared not look into his eyes again.

"Let’s eat first." Blake Sinclair changed the topic, pushing the plate towards her, "After eating, I’ll take you back."

Holly no longer declined, lowering her head and starting to eat.

But even though she didn’t look up, she could still feel his gaze consistently focused on her.

After hastily finishing her meal, he picked up the car keys, "Let’s go."

Holly nodded and followed him.

In the Maybach, the atmosphere was quiet yet subtle.

Looking at the receding street scenes in the rearview mirror, Holly’s thoughts were tangled and messy.

"What are you thinking about?" Blake Sinclair suddenly asked.

Caught off guard, Holly blurted out, "Thinking about... Zion Pence."

Blake Sinclair’s hand tightened on the steering wheel, his tone calm but inexplicably tense, "If you need me to explain to Zion Pence..."

"No need." Holly turned to interrupt him, "He and I have no relations anymore."

Her voice was light but exceptionally firm.

In a few words, Holly recounted the matter with Zion Pence to Blake Sinclair, "...that’s it. Isn’t it quite ridiculous?"

She turned her head to continue looking out the window, "Seven years of feelings, reduced to a scheme."

After a moment of silence, Blake Sinclair said lightly, "He doesn’t deserve it."

Holly turned her head to look at him.

Taking advantage of the red light interval, Blake Sinclair lightly pressed the brake and looked back at her.

Their eyes met.

His features were particularly clear in the morning light, his voice low and confident: "You deserve better."

Holly felt a tremor in her heart.

The hatred and coldness towards Zion Pence still swirled inside her, but the warmth from Blake Sinclair’s words quietly spread through her entire body.

The Maybach stopped at Glynmere’s entrance, Blake Sinclair unbuckled his seat belt, turned to her, "We’re here."

Holly came back to her senses, nodded, and lowered her head to unbuckle her seat belt. But distracted, she tried several times without success.

Blake Sinclair chuckled softly, leaned over, and with a gentle press of his fingers.

"Click."

The seatbelt was released.

The scent of cedar wafted close by, and Holly instinctively held her breath, leaning back slightly.

Blake Sinclair raised his eyes slightly, their gazes met, "Nervous?"

Holly’s ears burned, yet she stubbornly said, "....No."

Blake Sinclair’s lips curved slightly, he didn’t expose her, he just straightened up, got out of the car, and walked around to her side to open the car door for her, "Go on, have a good rest, and reach out to me anytime."

Holly nodded, got out of the car, walked a few steps forward, and looked back at him.

"President Sinclair."

"Hmm?"

She took a deep breath, "Thank you for last night. And regarding the responsibility I mentioned..."

Blake Sinclair’s eyes flashed, "Okay, I’ve noted it."

With a flick of his hand, he closed the car door.

His low, smiling voice echoed in her ears, "No rush, let’s talk when you’re ready."

Holly was stunned.

What did he mean?

What did he mean by ’when she’s ready’?

Blake Sinclair looked at her ears, turning crimson, and chuckled lightly, "Go on up."

"..Alright." Holly turned and covered her burning face and walked inside.

Behind her, in the car.

Blake Sinclair watched her gradually shrinking silhouette through the rearview mirror, a faint smile on his lips.

No hurry, he had all the patience to wait for her.

Holly practically ran into the unit building, and it was only when she entered the elevator that she caught her breath.

The elevator mirror reflected her thoroughly red face, and when she reversed her hand to touch it, it was scorching!

This is so absurd...

Holly returned home with her mind in a tangled mess, and just as she stepped out of the elevator, her steps faltered, her entire body froze when she saw the figure at her doorstep.

Zion Pence was sitting haphazardly on the doormat in front of her home.

The bottom of his suit pants marked with distinct creases, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, and the stubble on his chin exuded a deliberately cultivated sense of decay and disarray.

When he looked up and saw her, his eyes brightened.

"Holly." He struggled to get up, his voice hoarse.

At the sight of him, Holly felt a wave of nausea rise up from her stomach, her voice cold, "What are you doing here?"

The scene of last night, being set up and taken by Frederick Fletcher, replayed in her mind, and she clenched her fists, "Go away."

"Holly, listen to my explanation!"

Zion Pence hurriedly moved forward, trying to grab her wrist.

Holly instinctively stepped back, his hand froze in midair.

"Explanation?" Holly sneered, her eyes laced with sarcasm.

"Explain why you didn’t board your flight to Vantria and instead are performing a pathetic act at my doorstep?"

With his lie exposed, Zion Pence’s face changed drastically, "I...."

But in the next second, his gaze suddenly froze on Holly’s neck, his pupils contracting sharply.

There was a faint red mark.

Light red, as if pinched out by someone, or... a love bite.

"Did he really touch you?!"

Zion Pence’s voice suddenly rose, sharp and piercing.