Addicted After Marriage: Marrying My Abstinent Boss-Chapter 199: A Hundred Different Ways to Die

Chapter 199: Chapter 199: A Hundred Different Ways to Die

More than half a month later.

Shirley White was discharged from the hospital early, and Hugh Irving’s workload eased up, allowing him to throw himself into the tense work alongside Sophia Lowell.

Faye Ellison was recovering well on his end and had already started getting busy back at the studio.

He wanted to ask Sophia out, but she didn’t give him the opportunity.

When he wanted homemade dishes, she would just call a chef to make them for him.

If she called too often, she would directly ask Ansel Gallagher to help out.

Eventually, he stopped mentioning it.

Sophia’s reason for not going was simple, she was rushing to finish clothes for Teacher Hale.

Faye couldn’t find any faults in that.

Today, he arrived at SY Studio.

Hugh Irving and Sophia Lowell were finalizing the last details on Teacher Hale’s clothes.

When Faye stood at the doorway, they hadn’t noticed him yet.

He watched Sophia busy at work, a slight curve appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"Haven’t seen Ethan Sinclair these past few days, did you two have a fight?" Sophia diligently continued her work, paying no attention to the man at the door.

"I heard he went on a business trip. He left in the middle of the night last night, left in a hurry after sending a quick message, didn’t even tell me where he was going. Hasn’t sent a message since," Hugh said, a bit irritably.

What kind of relationship is this where you can’t even bother to reply to messages?

Sophia paused, her hands stopping briefly.

It seemed like Zane Sterling hadn’t sent her any proper message in two days either, most of it was about being busy and that they would chat later.

This "later" had already been quite a while.

He used to video call every night, but now it’s reduced to just a check-in with no follow-up.

"What’s wrong?" Hugh observed her distracted appearance.

"Nothing." She smiled.

Meanwhile, Faye overheard Hugh saying Ethan went on a business trip last night, and a bad premonition struck him.

He took out his phone and sent a message.

"Faye, when did you get here?" Hugh finally noticed Faye.

Faye was momentarily stunned, then put away his phone, immediately flashing the smile that charmed countless women.

"Didn’t have much appetite eating alone at home, so I thought I’d come over to snag a meal and check on my mom’s clothes." Faye said with hands in his pockets.

Todays he’s in a full suit, but since the weather is a bit warm, he didn’t wear a tie, lazily left the top button undone.

This appearance somewhat resembled Zane Sterling’s roguishly handsome aura.

Zane was graceful in public, but privately he was both rogue and rugged, a nature hard for strangers to grasp.

Sophia couldn’t help but take another glance, her mind filled with the image of Zane Sterling.

Faye noticed her gaze, he pulled his lips into a smile and said, "I had someone send over some food, once we’re done let’s go eat together."

"Great, I happen to be hungry." Hugh put down his tools, stretching lazily.

Sophia didn’t object, she was indeed hungry and somewhat out of energy.

Lately, her appetite had astonishingly increased.

She guessed it was probably due to stress, being drained by the studio’s intricate designs.

The three of them coincidentally went downstairs to eat at the restaurant.

Faye had someone deliver pickled fish and many dishes Sophia loved, even preparing desserts for after the meal.

"Why do you love spicy food so much lately? Is it because your husband influenced you?" Hugh curiously asked.

Recently, Sophia frequently ate spicy food, and she seemed to enjoy it a lot.

Sophia chuckled.

Perhaps it’s true.

Zane loved spicy food, though Sophia didn’t quite like it. Every time the housekeeper cooked, there would be at least one spicy dish. Despite her usual dislike, she would eat a little.

It seemed his preference had rubbed off on her, leading her to crave spicy food lately, with an increased appetite.

Faye didn’t comment and focused on his meal. Occasionally, he’d use the serving chopsticks to add food to their plates.

*

Meanwhile, Ethan Sinclair hurried to Zane Sterling’s hotel after getting off the plane.

The atmosphere in the presidential suite was palpably tense.

Zane sat in front of the sofa, legs crossed, one hand supporting his deeply furrowed brow as he continuously spun a phone in the other.

The phone screen remained on Sophia’s chat window, yet he hesitated to send a message, a guilt he couldn’t quite place gnawing at him.

Sitting across from him, Tim Sawyer was expressionless, but the twitching of his facial muscles betrayed him.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, his icy fingers trembled as they interlocked, sometimes unclasping then folding again.

He didn’t dare glance around, not even meeting the gaze of the man opposite him.

Miles Lockwood stood by with several bodyguards by their side.

The suite was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, even breathing seemed especially loud.

Ethan entered, his expression heavy as he looked at Tim Sawyer.

A while back, he heard from Hugh that Tim intended to develop abroad, but later found out he had come here instead.

He’d already instructed the crew traveling with Zane, yet an incident still happened.

It was simply impossible to guard against!

The night before last, after a social engagement, Zane got drunk. Harry Langley handled the aftermath, and the female secretary, also drunk, was escorted back to her room.

When the staff brought Zane’s room card to the front desk, he took it directly into the suite, only to find himself in Tim’s suite instead.

The hotel staff claimed it was a mistake and immediately fired the employee responsible, but the person hadn’t been found as of now.

It seemed Tim had social engagements that evening too; he drank quite a lot.

When Zane lay down, the bed was neat and empty beside him.

Upon waking, he found his upper body exposed, his belt loosened but not fully undone, and the room full of suggestiveness.

But there was no one else there.

Upon reviewing the surveillance, it was found that the person was Tim.

Zane had Miles bring people over overnight, it took an entire day and night to capture Tim and force-feed her contraceptives.

Zane didn’t believe he’d do anything under the influence, even with Sophia he couldn’t become aroused when drunk, much less with this woman.

But Tim insisted something happened, and it was against her will.

Miles wasn’t sure how to handle it, so he called Ethan to explain the situation.

"Quite the coincidence, huh!" Ethan sneered coldly.

Tim tightened his bite, clenching his fists so tightly, knowing that nothing she said would be believed.

Her eyes reddened, and her thumping heart kept urging her to calm down.

These men’s sarcastic words poignantly etched out vivid wounds on her face, like blades tracing the skin leaving bloody marks.

Like transparent fruit, being peeled blatantly by others, exposing that overwhelming helplessness.

What did she do wrong?

This man mistakenly entered the wrong room, yet she had become the scapegoat in this mess?

Clearly, she was the victim here.

The futility of trying to counter the blame was like a freezing rainstorm drenching her from head to toe.

"President Sinclair, how can you say such things?"

Last night she had been questioned thoroughly, not even managing to get a proper meal by today, having only a few sips of water placed on the table.

Unbeknownst to her, it wasn’t merely lukewarm water but laden with heavy doses of contraceptives.

She rushed out less than half an hour after Zane went in, making it doubtful anything significant took place.

Zane trusted in his control but feared he had truly done something that betrayed Sophia. His mind was a jumble.

"You should know, people mysteriously dying overseas aren’t uncommon, wouldn’t make a difference with you." Zane said flatly.

Chills ran up Tim’s spine, icy cold spikes piercing from her feet to her nape.

Ever since Zane got injured and retired from the corps, he seemed possessed by a demon, leaving no one who played tricks on him escaping his clutches.

Now there was Henry Quinn, homeless.

Drake Morgan’s lifeless body, unattended.

A deranged housekeeper.

...

If he wanted, he could give you a hundred different ways to die.