Chapter 3
Winston’s gaze darkened, realization hitting him like a freight train–Chelsea was Wade’s ex. She might be holding onto some secrets that could work in his favor.
‘But if that’s true… things could get messy. Real messy,‘ he thought.
Chelsea looked like she’d been through the wringer, barely holding herself together. She caught the faint smell of pine coming from Winston, and, with effort, managed to pry her eyes open.
“Winston…” She tried to pull back, but her knees buckled, and she stumbled forward.
“Hey–steady now,” Winston muttered, wrapping his arm a little tighter around her waist. He barely noticed Fabian’s wide- eyed stare as he guided her out of the elevator.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. Inside, he wondered, ‘Did she come to stir up trouble?‘
Chelsea’s face was pale as a ghost, her voice barely a whisper. “My family kicked me out. I was looking for a friend… but I ran into you instead.”
“A friend?” He arched an eyebrow.
“Kate Meyer. She’s in HR.” Chelsea steadied herself, glancing around. “Wait… are you working at Nova Group too?”
She couldn’t help but think, maybe her rash husband had some talent she hadn’t seen. Otherwise, he couldn’t end up here.
Winston handed her a glass of warm water, noticing how sickly she looked. “Yeah, just started.”
It was true. He’d only recently returned from studying abroad, finally ready to sink his teeth into something real.
He’d heard of Kate. Sharp, but with a serious case of busybody syndrome.
Chelsea took a sip of the water, the warmth easing her discomfort. “Thanks,” she said.
“So, they really threw you out?” Winston wasn’t one to get nosy, but after last night, he felt a nagging sense of guilt.
“Yep. The second they found out I was married, I was out the door,” she laughed, a hollow sound. “Now I’m broke, and Kate was my last option.”
A flicker of something crossed Winston’s face, but he quickly masked it.
Just then, Chelsea’s phone buzzed, and she grabbed it, relief flooding her face.
Kate blurted out, “Chelsea! Oh my god, I just saw your message–I’m not even in town right now. Stay at my place tonight, okay? The code is-”
The call cut off suddenly, her phone flashing a low battery warning before dying completely.
She stared at the dead screen, feeling her stomach drop.
Kate was gone, she had zero cash, and her last shred of hope was slipping away. Panic bubbled up inside her, and she felt trapped.
Winston’s gaze swept over her, taking in the full picture. She was still wearing that classy dress, her figure elegant yet fragile, her face a mix of pride and helplessness. She looked completely lost.
1/5
5:15 pm
Chapter 3
“Why don’t you just crash at my place tonight?” Winston suggested, a little uncertain.
Chelsea’s eyes widened in surprise, but then she hesitated. “Is it… uh, your rent big enough?”
+23
“My rent?” Winston saw the doubt flicker in her eyes and quickly realized she might’ve misunderstood. He was about to clear things up, but she kept going.
“Look, I’m totally broke right now. If you’re offering, that would be amazing,” Chelsea admitted, sounding relieved. She hardly knew anyone in Evergreen besides Kate. Winston was literally the only person she could ask.
She added, “I just started this job, and the pay isn’t great… but I’ll cover my share of rent and groceries, I promise. I’ll find my own place as soon as I can.”
She looked at him with genuine gratitude. “Thank you, Mr. Moody.” She was all too aware of how steep the cost of living in Evergreen could be, and even with a Nova Group paycheck, she doubted he was living in luxury.
Winston hadn’t exactly thought this through—it had been an impulsive offer. Now, seeing her take it so seriously and even talking about pitching in, he realized she might have misunderstood his background. But there was no taking it back now.
“Let’s go,” he said, turning toward the parking lot.
“Wait… where are we going?” Chelsea asked, a bit thrown off.
“My car’s in the lot.”
She followed him, her eyes trailing his tall, broad frame–he had to be around six–three, towering over her five–seven.
When he mentioned a car, she blinked, mildly surprised. But that was nothing compared to what came next.
They reached the lot, and Chelsea nearly did a double take. Winston was walking straight toward a slick black Rolls Royce.
Her jaw dropped–this car had to be worth more than her entire life savings.
“No way… are you serious? This is your car?” she blurted, hurrying to catch up and grabbing his arm just before he could open the door.
Winston smirked, instantly reading her disbelief–she clearly thought he was living paycheck to paycheck.
“Actually, that’s-” he started to explain, but she cut him off.
“Wait, hold up,” she hissed, noticing someone sitting inside. Lowering her voice even more, she quickly added, “Sorry, we must’ve mixed up the cars.”
Fabian looked out, utterly bewildered, but Winston gave him a quick look that screamed, “Play along.”
Fabian, getting the hint, nodded and drove off without a word.
When it was gone, Winston casually pointed to a much more down–to–earth car in the next spot. “This one’s actually mine. Hop in.”
“Right,” Chelsea said, exhaling with relief.
She’d seen her fair share of fancy cars, and this one–worth maybe a few hundred thousand–seemed a lot more fitting for a guy in his position.
As Chelsea reached for the back door handle, Winston’s voice came out sharp. “Hey, get in the front.”
2/5
5:15 pm GD
Chapter 3
He gave her a look that said it all. ‘Seriously? Does she really thinks I am her driver or something?‘
Chelsea froze, suddenly realizing her blunder. Awkwardly, she pulled her hand back and stammered, “Oh, uh… sorry.”
Without another word, she opened the front passenger door and slipped inside, keeping her movements quick and careful,
Winston didn’t bother responding. Instead, he pulled out his phone and fired off a message to Fabian: [Find a two–bedroom apartment near the office. Immediately.]
Fabian: [On it, Mr. Moody.]
Fabian stared at his phone, his eyebrows lifting. ‘What’s this, some kind of poverty cosplay? Since when does Mr. Moody slum it?‘ Shaking his head, he went back to work.
It was peak rush hour, and the streets were jam–packed. A trip that should’ve taken five minutes dragged on for nearly thirty.
By the time they pulled up outside the apartment, an hour had crawled by.
As the car rolled to a stop, Chelsea peered out the window–and her face fell.
The place was rough, to put it kindly. The walls were scrawled with faded graffiti, and the buildings showed their age. A drowsy security guard leaned against the gate, half–asleep, while locals milled about casually, paying no mind to the world around them.
Chelsea, who’d grown up surrounded by luxury, couldn’t hide her reaction. She looked at Winston, half expecting him to say this was all some kind of joke.
The car door clicked open, and Chelsea stepped out. Winston was already ahead of her, striding toward the building. “Let’s go.”
She hurried after him, taking in the peeling paint and grimy hallways. At least there was a keypad lock on the stairwell door.
Winston punched in the code, and the door clicked open.
Inside, the apartment wasn’t much better. Small, basic, and cold as hell–it suited Winston’s frosty vibe almost too well.
Winston didn’t seem fazed. He went straight to the shoe cabinet, pulled out a pair of slippers, and slipped them on like he’d done it a million times.
Chelsea stood there, watching him, more convinced than ever that he actually lived in this dump.
“Got any spare slippers?” she asked, her voice softer now. She hadn’t brought anything–no change of clothes, no toiletries, nothing.
“Disposable ones. Cabinet,” he replied, already walking toward the kitchen.
Winston had a full–on obsession with keeping things spotless–like, over–the–top clean freak. So, Fabian always made sure to have plenty of disposable stuff on standby, ready to whip out whenever Winston started freaking out over a little mess.
Chelsea crouched down, opened the shoe cabinet, and blinked. Sure enough, there were at least a dozen pairs of disposable slippers stacked neatly inside.
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Who the hell keeps this many? Does he bring people here often?”
Her thoughts were interrupted by Winston’s return, coffee in hand and a look that was pure ice. “What are you staring at?”
3/5
Chapter 3
Chelsea snapped out of it, shaking her head quickly. ‘None of my business, whatever it is.‘
She slipped on the slippers and cleared her throat. “Which room’s mine?”
t
“The first on the left is mine. Yours is the second.” He took a sip of coffee and added, as if it were a side note, “And stay out of my room.”
The warning in his tone was impossible to miss. Winston didn’t just value his privacy–he demanded it.
“Got it,” Chelsea said with a nod.
Chelsea pushed open the door to her room and stepped inside. It wasn’t big, but it had everything she needed.
–
The place was spotless, not a speck of dust in sight. By the window, a few small potted plants added a touch of life to the otherwise plain decor.
Still, the room felt bare. It lacked the warmth and comfort she was used to. ‘I need to buy a few things,‘ she thought, pulling out her phone.
Within minutes, she had a cart full of essentials ready to check out. But when she hit “Pay,” the screen flashed a message that sent her stomach plummeting: Insufficient funds.
For a moment, Chelsea just stared at the screen. Then it hit her–she was broke. Completely, utterly broke.
The sun was already setting, and the air in the room felt colder by the second. There was no way she was sleeping on the bare floor.
‘What now? Ask Winston for help?‘ The thought made her stomach twist. But she had no choice.
When Chelsea stepped back into the room, Winston was already settled, pulling his laptop out and logging into the company network like he could do it in his sleep.
A message from Fabian Howe popped up instantly: [Mr. Moody, everything alright with the apartment?]
Winston: [Yeah.]
.
Chelsea came back out just as he logged off the network and switched to browsing the official site, casually.
He didn’t feel the need to clear up her assumption that he was just some broke guy. If she wanted to think that, so be it. He thought it might even work in his favor, especially since she’d had a thing with Wade.
“Mr. Moody, do you happen to have any spare sheets?” she asked in a small voice.
“None,” Winston replied bluntly.
Then, catching the embarrassed look on her face, he raised an eyebrow and added, in a slightly cold tone, “You strapped for cash or something?”
Chelsea’s cheeks went red. “No, I was actually gonna ask a friend for help,” she mumbled, feeling even more awkward.
Asking him for a place to stay was already a big deal; no way she’d start hitting him up for money too.
She’d never felt this self–conscious in her life. She was just about to duck out of the conversation when Winston spoke up.
4/5
5:16 pm
Chapter 3
“Hold on.” He grabbed his wallet, pulled out his phone, and in one smooth move, transferred her 1500 dollars.
Chelsea stared at the notification, feeling warmth bloom in her chest. “Mr. Moody, I’ll treat this as a loan. I’ll pay you back as soon as I can, promise.”
He opened his mouth, ready to tell her not to bother, but before he could get a word out, Chelsea’s phone buzzed.
She picked up, only to hear Drogo, speaking in his usual commanding tone. “Chelsea, I need you in the office tomorrow.”
“Got it,” she replied evenly. She still technically worked for the Wise Group, and she needed to go in to handle her resignation.
“And another thing,” he added, voice hardening, “you’re going to divorce that man and marry Mr. Robinson right away. Or you can forget about-”
Chelsea didn’t even wait for him to finish. She hung up and blocked his number on the spot, fuming.
‘Marry that old bastard? Over my dead body, she thought with a flash of anger.
5/5
