Chapter 2: You Can Leave, But the Payment Must Be Made

Quintina Foster's face turned cold; how could she not believe it?

Lambert Hobson was no longer the poor boy from back then. Nowadays, with just a stomp of his foot, H City would tremble. Who dared to ignore his mood or disrespect him?

"Do you really have to push me to the brink and beyond?"

Lambert Hobson sneered, stepping forward and pinching her chin, looking down at her condescendingly, "What do you think?"

She no longer had the luxury to act recklessly.

Closing her eyes briefly, under his mocking gaze, she suddenly smiled brightly, grabbing his collar and standing on tiptoe to kiss his thin lips.

If he wanted to humiliate her, let him do so to his heart's content. She only hoped he would vent his anger quickly and spare her, spare their family!

Lambert Hobson's eyes darkened, and in the next second, he pressed his hand against the back of her head, deepening the kiss.

Instantly, Quintina Foster felt a rush of alcohol fumes surge into her brain, making her nauseous. She pushed him away hastily, covering her mouth as she dry-heaved.

The atmosphere in the living room instantly dropped to an icy point, the oppressive and dangerous air almost suffocating.

Lambert Hobson wiped his lips with his fingertips, his face cold, "Is this how you serve your guests?"

Quintina Foster forced down the nausea, her eyes flashing with a hint of satisfaction, but her face showed extreme fear as she said, "Mr. Qi, I didn't mean to. Please don't be angry. It's just a physiological reaction I can't control."

Wasn't that implying that seeing him, someone she detested, made her want to vomit?

Lambert Hobson's face completely hardened, his gaze piercing and chilling.

Quintina Foster, seemingly unaffected, turned and lay on the sofa, removing the scarf from her neck and covering her eyes with it. She spread her arms, inviting him with a coy expression, "I'm ready, Mr. Qi. Do whatever you want, I'll go along with it."

Lambert Hobson stared at her coldly for a moment before spitting out three icy words, "Get out!"

Quintina Foster pulled off the scarf, instantly losing the coquettish demeanor, raising an eyebrow at him, "Fine, but you need to pay first."

Lambert Hobson, expressionless, took out a stack of cash from his wallet and threw it at her face, "Get out!"

Quintina Foster suppressed the humiliation and the sharp pain in her heart, got up, and picked up the scattered cash. Counting it, she curled her lips, "Just this much? Mr. Qi, you're getting stingier. Oh well, consider it a favor to an old acquaintance."

Putting the money in her bag, she smiled and said, "Looking forward to your next visit."

Without another glance at his gloomy face, she opened the door and left.

After she left, Lambert Hobson muttered in a low, indistinct voice, "It seems you still haven't learned, Luolu."

...

As soon as she entered the elevator, Quintina Foster clutched her chest and squatted down, waiting until the intense spasm in her heart subsided before slowly regaining her breath.

This was a condition she developed after her family's misfortune, caused by excessive emotional stress, requiring her to avoid drastic emotional swings.

Facing Lambert Hobson earlier, she thought she could control herself, but she overestimated her abilities.

That man could still easily stir all her emotions—resentment, hatred, and... heartache.

She laughed bitterly, supporting herself with the elevator handrail as she stood up, slowly walking out of the elevator and leaving the hotel.

In late autumn, H City was already very cold. She tightened her coat and walked alone on the late-night streets.

Unable to afford a taxi, she could only walk on foot.

Only now did her emotions fully settle, yet she couldn't help but recall the scene in the hotel with Lambert Hobson.

Since their divorce, except in the news, this was the first time she had seen him in person.

Compared to a year ago, he was even more radiant and imposing.

Of course, he had replaced the Jian family to become the richest man in H City, wielding immense power and status. How could he not be proud?

A cold wind blew, seeming to penetrate her bones, making her heart shiver.

She remembered that day, also a cold night, when she knelt outside his residence, begging him to spare her brother, Gordon Foster.

What did he do?

He handed her a divorce agreement.

If she agreed to the divorce, Gordon Foster wouldn't die.

She signed it, and Gordon Foster's death sentence was commuted to ten years in prison.

She laughed sardonically. He kept his word, sparing Gordon Foster's life, but for someone as proud as Gordon Foster, being imprisoned with such a stigma was more painful than death. If not for her pleading, he would never have survived.

A year had passed, and every time she saw her dejected brother, her comatose father, and her deranged mother, her hatred couldn't subside.

Yet, she hated herself the most, because it was her poor judgment that led to everything.

So, she gave up her pride, her dignity, and everything else, all for atonement.

This was what she owed them...