Chapter 6 Crossing the Line

Hearing Rowena's biting, final remark echo through the grand, silent hall, Kingston’s dark eyebrows furrowed in profound bewilderment. He desperately searched his memory, his mind spinning through their past interactions. When exactly had he ever stated he wanted to abandon her? Why would she throw such a heavy accusation at his feet right before walking out? A sudden, gripping urge seized him to sprint after her retreating figure, to grab her wrist and force a proper conversation to talk things out once and for all.

Before his expensive leather shoes could carry him forward, a trembling hand tightly clutched the hem of his suit pants from the floor.

He looked down, his train of thought shattered. Bianca kneeled on the cold marble tiles, looking piteous, her face stained with messy tears. She sobbed miserably, her manicured fingers digging into his fine fabric as if she were drowning.

"King... I'm so sorry," she fed him a desperate excuse between broken gasps. "I was terrified... terrified you would have genuinely fallen in love with Rowena over the three years I've been away. I did it because of the paralyzing fear that you wouldn't want me anymore! I thought I was losing you!"

Glimpsing her slightly swelling, red cheek from Rowena's brutal slap, Kingston’s lethal gaze involuntarily softened just a fraction. The furious, murderous tension in his broad shoulders dropped as he bent down to help her back to her feet.

"I already promised to give you a proper status," he reassured her in a low, measured voice. "My divorce from Rowena was merely a matter of time. This time, you were far too impatient and reckless."

Grasping tightly onto his sleeve like a lifeline, Bianca tearfully apologized again. "It was my fault... I just used the wrong method. King, please forgive me!" She weakly leaned her body weight against his solid frame, seeking comfort. In a calculated move, she tentatively let her clothing slip, deliberately baring her smooth, fair shoulder to entice him.

Instantly, Kingston’s gaze darkened into pitch-black rejection. His body reacted on pure instinct. He raised his hands and firmly pushed her away from his chest, creating a hard wedge of distance between them.

A hot flash of intense resentment flared deep within Bianca’s eyes, though she masked it behind her tears. She frantically wondered why Rowena was able to successfully bag him and share his bed last night, yet she was forcefully rejected when she couldn't even draw close for a simple embrace. It was maddening and unfair.

"That's enough," Kingston’s voice dropped to a chilling warning. He studied her with an icy, deeply alienated gaze, expressing his profound disappointment. "I never thought you would resort to such underhanded methods and send such derisive, cruel comments to her. You used to be such a pure, innocent girl in the past. What happened to the woman I knew?"

Realizing with sheer panic that she had crossed a firm, dangerous line, Bianca hastily dropped her seductive act. She pleaded desperately for a chance to repent, reaching for his arm again. "No, please! I know I was wrong. It was a moment of recklessness! Even if it's only for the fact that I bravely saved your life all those years ago... give me a chance, King! Don't look at me like that!"

The potent memory of her past bravery forcibly softened Kingston’s hardened resolve. The vivid image of the little girl stepping in front of him to protect him flickered through his mind. With a heavy sigh, he verbally agreed. "I will let the drugging matter slide this once. But never again."

Immediately, he held out his palm with an uncompromising glare. "Hand over the mansion key. I know Silas gave it to you without my permission."

Begrudgingly, with her teeth grinding in secret behind her closed lips, Bianca reached into her designer bag and returned the metallic key, placing it in his waiting hand.

"Do not come to my private mansion again," Kingston sternly ordered her. He pulled out his phone and summoned his personal driver. "Take her back to her hotel immediately. Ensure she gets there."

Once the heavy oak door clicked shut behind her, Kingston’s assistant, Silas, cautiously approached from the hallway, his head bowed in submission.

Kingston turned on him, his voice radiating frost. "You have no right to make personal decisions on my behalf, Silas. If there is ever a second time you give out my keys, consider it your immediate termination."

"Understood, sir. It will not happen again," Silas replied rigidly.

Pacing the massive living room, Kingston pulled out a cigarette and took a deep, heavy puff. Despite the harsh burn of the nicotine entering his lungs, he found his mind relentlessly haunted by Rowena’s piercing, glacial stare as she left. He agonized over her abrupt departure. Was she so fiercely resolute about the sudden divorce solely because he had wrongly accused her of the drugging? His thoughts spiraled into mounting concern over how she possibly planned to survive out in the harsh world without asking for a single cent in alimony. She had packed a single suitcase and walked out with nothing but her pride.

A deeply uneasy, suffocating heaviness consumed his chest. Unable to let the gnawing feeling go, he turned and barked an order to Silas.

"Dispatch our men to search the entire city for Rowena’s whereabouts. Notify me the very second she is found." He paused, his jaw tightening as guilt washed over him. "Furthermore, instruct the legal team to transfer the ownership of this mansion to Rowena’s name as her mandated divorce compensation. Make sure the paperwork is flawless."

Silas blinked, surprised by the sudden generosity, but nodded quickly. "Right away, Mr. Thorne."

Meanwhile, unaware of Kingston’s internal turmoil, Rowena had lugged her heavy suitcase straight to the towering glass headquarters of Pinnacle Corporation. She stood on the bustling street corner, looking up at the majestic skyscraper that pierced the clouds, fully ready to complete her mandated management handover.

Approaching the slick, modern front desk in the grand lobby, she confidently declared her presence to the receptionist, resting her hand on her luggage handle. "Please notify the current CEO that I would like to see him."

The receptionist slowly looked Rowena up and down. She scrutinized Rowena's inexpensive, unbranded street outfit with stiff, visible disdain. Her lips curled into a judgmental smirk as she took in the sight of the worn suitcase and the lack of designer labels.

"Do you have a prior appointment?" the receptionist asked, her tone dripping with condescension.

Rowena calmly admitted, "No, I do not."

The receptionist scoffed loudly, crossing her arms over her tailored, branded uniform. She rudely berated Rowena, her voice carrying across the quiet, echoing lobby. "You don't have an appointment, yet you dare to waltz right into the prestigious Pinnacle and kick up a fuss? I guess nowadays, any random, insignificant person seems to have the guts to throw their weight around without knowing their lowly place in society. Do you even know where you are standing?"

A dark frown severely marred Rowena’s flawless countenance as her patience finally snapped. She stared down the arrogant employee, refusing to be intimidated by a mere receptionist.

"Is this how you usually greet clients?"