Chapter 246
A long moment passed before Gregory let out a breath and glanced at Adrian. He didn’t even notice how unsure and tentative he sounded as he asked, “Am I really allowed to like her?”
Was he allowed to like someone? Could he truly express such feelings to someone without the help of therapy and medication?
The corner of Adrian’s mouth twitched into a smile when he heard this. He nodded. “Of course. Anathea is your wife. Of course you’re allowed to like her.”
“But she’s Adam’s daughter!” Gregory lowered his gaze. Adam had killed his best friends. Adam was his archnemesis, someone he wished he could kill with his own bare hands.
“Then tell me, did Anathea kill them?” Adrian asked.
Gregory shook his head.
“So, that means Adam is the only one at fault here. What does Anathea have to do with it?” Adrian probed
Gregory’s lips pressed into a grim line as his gaze flickered. However, he frowned a second later and argued, “But she used such despicable methods to set me up and trap me
“Yes, she set you up and trapped you, but didn’t you agree to marry her?” Adrian interrupted, pointing out the truth. “I refuse to believe that the almighty CEO of Sinclair Group was forced to marry a woman he didn’t want.”
Gregory’s fingers clenched at the words. For a long moment, he stared at his reflection in the drink, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
Yes, Adrian was right—Adam wouldn’t have been able to corner Gregory into marrying Anathea if he’d truly refused to go through with it. So what made him cave?
After all, on that fateful night, Gregory had been sober despite the drink he’d had. He’d probably allowed himself to cave to temptations the moment he’d laid eyes on Anathea.
He was afraid to admit it, but he’d been the one to make the first move on Anathea as she lay before him and took her virginity.
But afterward, he’d despicably turned around and accused her of playing dirty, all because Eleanor had raised him in such a strict and overbearing manner that he couldn’t allow himself to make any mistakes.
As such, Gregory dared not face his wrongdoing. He’d repeatedly emphasized that Anathea was the one at fault just to lessen his own guilt and shame. In the end, he’d told the lie enough times for it to feel like reality.
How ironic! He’d been so selfish and despicable.
Gregory clenched his fingers, but he didn’t feel even a trace of pain even when his nails cut through the flesh of his palms and drew blood. His heart was filled with a dull ache.
Was this what liking someone felt like? But why did everyone else who experienced it feel happy and light, while Gregory was left feeling so bitter?
Gregory couldn’t remember when he’d left Drunk Elysium, but when he snapped to his senses, he saw that the car had already pulled up outside Sinclair Villa.
It was drizzling outside again. Gregory sat in the backseat of the car, unmoving as he stared intently at the garden by the
entrance.
Flowers, the names of which he couldn’t remember, bloomed there. Anathea had planted the seeds and nurtured u.until they bloomed, and they were beautiful.
But at that moment, the flowers looked like they were crying as the rain fell on them and beaded into pearl–like droplets on
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Chapter 246
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their petals before rolling down.
It reminded Gregory of the way Anathea had teared up under him when he’d punished her.
His lips pressed into a hard line as he leaned into the backseat and closed his eyes.
There was a long silence before Dexter carefully said, “Mr. Sinclair we’ve arrived.”
Only then did Gregory open his eyes, open the car door, and get out. He entered the house.
“Welcome home, Mr. Sinclair.” Cyrus hurried to greet Gregory, only to smell the alcohol on him from far away. “Mr. Sinclair,~ shall I make you some hangover soup?”
“No need.” Gregory shrugged off his jacket and tossed it to Cyrus, feigning nonchalance as he asked, “Where’s Anathea? Has she come home?”
Cyrus replied, “Mrs. Sinclair is home, but she’s been resting in the bedroom for a while and hasn’t come out.”
The next second, they heard Jenny hurtling down the stairs. She said anxiously, “Come quickly! Mrs. Sinclair’s running a fever!”
A grim look passed over Gregory’s face when he heard this. Without another word, he hurried to the master bedroom on the third floor.
