Chapter 5 This Man Feels So Familiar

Candice picked up the last two pieces.

In Gobang, it's one round to decide the winner. But Mia Jones, unwilling to lose face, resorted to cheating. "Even though you won first, I also have five in a row now, so I win too," she said, arrogantly placing another piece next to her four.

“...” Candice stared at her like she was an idiot for a few seconds. “In that case, can I keep going too?”

Without waiting for a response, she placed another piece on the board and made another row of five.

Over the next minute, Candice practically cleared the board of Mia’s pieces, blocking her every move.

Mia’s face turned a mix of green and red as she shouted to play again.

The second round. The third. The fourth…

Candice either dragged things out to toy with her, slowly torturing her, or ended the game swiftly and mercilessly, crushing her within a few moves. She was blatantly treating Mia like a fool.

Mia Jones ended up crying out of frustration.

“Enough!”

Kyle snatched the box of pieces from Candice’s hand, his expression icy cold.

Mia, seeing Kyle taking her side, threw herself into his arms and cried even harder, as if Candice had done something terrible to her.

Kyle comforted her. Caroline Jenkins came to console her too, while harshly scolding Candice. “It’s just a game of Gobang! Why take it so seriously? This is exactly the kind of petty, jealous behavior you'd expect from someone raised in a low-class family!”

…

The shouting turned into a dull hum in Candice’s ears.

Kyle’s face in front of her seemed like a faded film strip from the past. Someone who once shone so brightly in her heart now appeared distorted and lifeless.

Forget it.

Only twenty more days.

Let him be.

She tossed the pieces onto the board carelessly and stood up with a look of boredom.

A few drops of blood fell with the movement.

Only after stepping outside did she feel the coldness in her hand—and realize that, at some point, her fingernails had dug into her palm hard enough to draw blood.

“Candice!”

Kyle called her name, a trace of panic finally showing in his voice.

He stood to chase after her, but Mia clung tightly to his waist, sobbing harder than before.

Candice left the Jackson estate.

Her phone rang nonstop—calls from Kyle. She blocked his number.

Then she sent a message to her mother-in-law: “1.5 billion. Not a cent less. Or you’ll pay the price.”

Caroline Jenkins nearly had a heart attack reading that message.

Candice drove on.

At some point, the weather had turned. Rain began to fall heavily, casting a gloomy pall over everything. Her mind drifted with the rhythm of the raindrops.

Suddenly—a flash in front of her. A yellow motorbike zipped across her lane. Her heart lurched. She slammed on the brakes.

The next second—

Bang—!

A violent crash from behind sent her head slamming into the steering wheel.

A sharp pain flared from her temple.

Looking up through the rain-streaked windshield, everything outside looked smeared in red.

She quickly grabbed a tissue and wiped the blood from her eyes.

She’d been rear-ended. And the yellow bike had already vanished.

Knock knock—

Someone tapped on her window.

Candice rolled it down.

A man around fifty stood outside, glasses perched on his nose, looking gentle and refined. Holding a plain black umbrella, he wore an apologetic expression. “Miss, hello. I was the one who hit your car. It’s our fault entirely. But my young master is in a hurry. Could we just exchange contact information? You can send us the repair bill later—we won’t shirk responsibility.”

“Let’s have the police handle it.”

Candice was already in a terrible mood, and after two back-to-back shocks, her patience had hit zero.

She got out of the car and walked to the rear, frowning as she saw the dent the Bentley had made in her bumper. She took photos for evidence and called the police.

The man, seeing she insisted, didn’t press further. He returned to the Bentley to report. “Young Master, the lady doesn’t want to settle privately. What should we do?”

The rain grew heavier.

Water streaked down the windshield, cleared away by the wipers, only to be replaced just as quickly. Inside the car, a man reclined lazily in the back seat, watching the woman outside.

She stood under the downpour, one hand pressed to her bleeding temple as she made a call. Her entire being radiated a dense melancholy. Her white shirt was soaked, clinging to her body. Raindrops clung to her long lashes before falling onto her red lips…

“Young Master?” the driver, Jim, called again.

The man lowered his cool, elegant eyes and glanced at his watch. “Jerry’s on the way. I’ll leave first. You stay and handle this.”

“Yes, sir.”

Candice got back into her car.

Soon after, the police arrived—with a silver Maybach pulling up behind them.

The two vehicles stopped almost simultaneously.

She stepped out of her car.

From the Bentley, the older man got out again—but this time, he was joined by a tall, slender man with a cold and noble aura. His fair skin and deep, fox-like eyes turned toward her as he noticed her gaze. The moment their eyes met, something sharp and commanding stirred in his.

So familiar…

“Give it to her.”

The man casually handed the suit jacket draped over his wrist to Jim, then turned and got into the Maybach without another word.

Jim jogged over to Candice, holding the jacket. “Miss, your clothes are soaked. Please, put this on.”

Candice looked down and realized her white shirt was completely transparent now, even revealing her undergarments.

Embarrassed, she quickly took the jacket and put it on. “Thank you.”

Jim quietly spoke with the police while the Maybach pulled away into the rainy mist. Through the foggy glass, she caught a fleeting glimpse of the man’s flawless profile.

The jacket still held his warmth. Its clean, woodsy scent drove away the chill of the rain.

The police gave their report, and both parties agreed to the resolution. They exchanged phone numbers. Jim offered to take her to the hospital to check on her injury.

Candice declined. Her emotions had settled, and thinking back to how irrationally she’d acted, she even apologized. “It wasn’t your fault. I was just in a bad mood. I’ll have the jacket cleaned and sent back to you.”

Jim didn’t insist otherwise. With his young master’s personality, he probably wouldn’t want the jacket back anyway—but he nodded kindly in agreement.

Candice went to the hospital alone.

Meanwhile, Kyle was growing increasingly frantic—unable to reach her, the rain pouring down, and his mind racing with awful possibilities.

And just then—he got the news that something had happened to her.