Chapter 90: Chapter 90: Washed Squeaky Clean

"Wyatt Shaw!"

Yvonne Sutton screamed in terror, her eyes fixed on the truck. It was getting closer and closer.

"Honey! Come back!"

Her voice trembled, and her heart leaped into her throat.

But just as the truck was about to hit, Wyatt Shaw maneuvered his wheelchair and narrowly dodged it.

Seeing that he was safe, Yvonne Sutton let out a huge sigh of relief. At the same time, her legs went weak, and she nearly collapsed. In that moment, she fully understood how Wyatt must have felt on the rooftop a few days ago, watching her dangle half-off the edge.

Wyatt Shaw pushed the old woman’s son back to the side of the road and returned him to her.

Yvonne Sutton threw herself into his arms and punched him on the chest in frustration.

"You wouldn’t let me go, but you went yourself!"

Wyatt Shaw held her close, patting her back to soothe her.

"I was confident I could rush over and save him."

"One hundred percent confident?"

Wyatt Shaw smiled and kissed her forehead. "Only a little bit of a risk."

Furious, Yvonne Sutton bit his chin. He even bent down to let her, and when she was done, he gave her a gentle kiss.

Her son was safe, but the old woman collapsed on the ground, her sobs growing even more intense. Each cry was utterly desolate.

It made sense. She was at her age, caring for a son who was practically in a vegetative state. Life must be incredibly hard, and her future looked bleak.

Yvonne Sutton knelt to comfort the old woman and tried to press some money into her hand.

The old woman shook her head, refusing. She said she had to earn her living through her own labor and couldn’t accept handouts.

"Miss Sutton, you are a good person."

As she spoke, the old woman looked at Wyatt Shaw, her eyes filled with a dazed confusion.

"Your husband is a good person, too."

The old woman wiped her tears, pushed herself up from the ground, and thanked Yvonne Sutton and Wyatt Shaw before wheeling her son away. The streetlights stretched their shadows longer and longer, until they resembled a single, ghostly silhouette.

Yvonne Sutton turned back and saw Wyatt Shaw staring after the mother and son, a similarly confused look in his eyes.

"What is it?" she asked.

Wyatt Shaw asked, "Do they live around here?"

"I don’t know, but the old woman often sells fruit at this intersection."

"Sells fruit?"

"Yes. Is there a problem?"

Wyatt Shaw thought for another moment before shaking his head. "It’s nothing. I don’t think I know them."

Neither of them had eaten much, so when they got home, Wyatt Shaw cooked two bowls of seafood noodles.

After dinner, they each took a shower.

Yvonne Sutton was surprised that Wyatt Shaw hadn’t pestered her or tried to take advantage of the situation. When she came out of the bathroom, she found him already lying in bed. His soft hair covered half his face, creating an alluring, partially concealed beauty, like a musician hiding behind her pipa.

"Didn’t you say my beauty belongs to you?" He smiled, the corner of his lip curling up.

"And?" Yvonne Sutton raised an eyebrow.

Wyatt Shaw’s eyes narrowed. "If you want it, come and get it yourself."

Yvonne Sutton blushed. ’He wants me to take the lead?’

"I... I don’t really want to."

"Is that so? What a shame. I washed myself all clean, and even..."

"Even what?" Yvonne Sutton swallowed nervously.

"Got completely naked."

With a playful growl, Yvonne Sutton pounced on him. "You seduced me! Don’t blame me for being rough!"

But in the end, it was Yvonne Sutton who was whimpering and begging for mercy.

The next day, it was almost noon when Yvonne Sutton woke up. But she had important things to do, so she quickly called Claire Lawrence and arranged to meet her outside Jean Bell’s studio.

She rushed to get up, wash her face, and change. After quickly eating the breakfast Wyatt Shaw had prepared for her, she ran out the door.

She immediately noticed that the gate to the villa across the street was open. ’Didn’t Vincent Reed already move out?’ she thought. ’Is he back again? Does he have to keep disgusting me?’

Yvonne Sutton let out a breath and ran a few steps toward the main gate. Then she remembered that the north gate was closer to Jean Bell’s studio, so she turned and ran that way instead.

When she reached the gate, she hailed a taxi. As she got in, she glanced casually toward the side of the road and saw Vincent Reed. He was talking animatedly to someone, and to her surprise, it was the old woman.

As the car drove off, Yvonne Sutton quickly turned to look back. Through the rear window, she saw Vincent Reed hand a stack of cash to the old woman, who took it and hurried into a nearby alley.

Yvonne Sutton sat back in her seat. ’Vincent Reed knows the old woman?’

’Why did he give her money? Did he ask her to do something?’

Yvonne Sutton met up with Claire Lawrence. Seeing that her friend still looked pale, she couldn’t help but worry.

"Are you up for this?"

Claire Lawrence nodded. "If I can act and keep myself busy, it’s better than getting lost in my own thoughts."

"That’s true."

Noticing her friend’s nervousness, Yvonne Sutton whispered, "Don’t worry. I guarantee you’ll pass the audition."

Claire Lawrence was confused. "What if I perform poorly?"

"Even if you act like a block of wood, you’ll still get the part."

Jean Bell needed to rent an island from the Rhodes Family, which required her approval. The condition for her approval was that Jean Bell give Claire Lawrence a role. It didn’t need to be said out loud; neither of them was a fool.

Jean Bell’s studio wasn’t large. Yvonne Sutton waited on the first floor while Claire Lawrence went upstairs for the audition.

There was a bookshelf on the first floor filled with detective and suspense novels written by Jean Bell.

She picked one up at random and was quickly engrossed. She had to admit, Jean Bell was truly talented.

"Mrs. Shaw, you’re here." Jean Bell came down the stairs.

Yvonne Sutton looked up at her. "You can just call me Yvonne."

Jean Bell smiled. "Yvonne, in that case, you don’t have to keep calling me Miss Bell. Call me Jean."

In truth, the two weren’t familiar with each other and didn’t have much to talk about. To make conversation, Yvonne Sutton brought up the book in her hands, and Jean Bell began to describe her creative process.

"Back then, I was studying abroad in Country M. It wasn’t that I particularly liked my studies; I was just following a man I was madly in love with. But he didn’t love me. He had a fiancée, and he loved her. I didn’t interfere. I just acted as their friend, envying them but also wishing them well. Later, they were in a car accident. His fiancée died, but he survived. When he woke up and learned his fiancée was gone, he completely lost it. I knew my chance had come, so I dedicated myself to taking care of him, staying by his side, hoping he would fall in love with me."

At this point, Jean Bell gave a bitter smile. "But how could he? He was so deeply in love with his fiancée that he would never love another woman in his life. I was defeated by that realization, so I left him six months later."

"After leaving him, I wrote this book with a heavy heart. The female protagonist is just like me—madly in love with a man who doesn’t love her back. She’s jealous of every woman who gets close to him, so jealous that she loses her mind and ends up killing them one by one."

Yvonne Sutton looked at the book in her hand and shook her head with a smile. "You just spoiled it for me."

Jean Bell froze for a moment, then said apologetically, "You’re right, I said too much. Oh, by the way, the show I’m making is an adaptation of this book. You can watch it when it comes out. Maybe it will feel fresh in a different way."

Yvonne Sutton was silent for a moment before turning to Jean Bell. "That man was Wyatt Shaw, wasn’t it?"