Forgotten Love: Mr. President, Mrs. Fordham Has Rejected You!-Chapter 198: She Can’t Push Him Away Anymore

Chapter 198: Chapter 198: She Can’t Push Him Away Anymore

The next morning, Damian Hawthorne awoke amidst a haze.

The hangover headache made him frown as the chaotic fragments from last night flooded his mind with unusual clarity.

He sat up abruptly and grabbed the phone from the nightstand.

The screen lit up, and he quickly sent a message to Claire.

"Are you awake? Let me treat you to a big meal."

"I’ll pick you up at noon."

He stared at the screen, which remained utterly still and silent.

A few minutes later, he sent another message.

"Let’s go on the Ferris wheel tonight, I’ll buy you the biggest cotton candy, it’s really good."

The phone remained silent, like a cold stone.

He lit a cigarette. Amidst the swirling smoke, the words she gestured yesterday vividly resurfaced in his mind.

"From now on, let’s not meet again!"

She was serious; she truly didn’t want to see him anymore.

His brow furrowed, and his chest felt like it was clogged with something, making him feel uneasy.

...

At this moment, Claire was with Mr. Sterling in the company.

She was now the closest assistant to Mr. Sterling.

Her work was simple: delivering documents and accompanying him to various business meals.

No one knew this girl, quiet as a shadow, had a special ability that once awed the world, and was secretly sought by various countries.

A car accident had taken everything from her, putting her abilities to sleep, erasing the highlights of her past, and robbing her of her voice, leaving her a little mute, silent and unnoticed.

If it hadn’t been for the life-and-death moment with Damian Hawthorne, her abilities might have stayed dormant forever.

...

The sunlight of the day was just perfect, lazily spilling into the study, carrying warmth.

Stella Grant finished her breakfast and returned to her computer to bury herself in work.

Her fingers danced over the keyboard, typing line after line of code.

Two files were already completed, with four more to go.

She wanted to finish her work quickly.

quietly slid to her feet and gently tugged at her pant leg with its small mechanical hand.

"Miss Grant, I haven’t finished today’s tasks. Please look at me."

Stella stopped, glancing at it.

"What task do you have?"

The screen of 001 immediately flashed a line of text.

"How are you today, Stella? I’ve been thinking of you, wanting to hold your hand, kiss your lips, and watch the stars with you."

Stella was momentarily stunned.

Is this... Aiden Fordham’s love letter?

So childish.

But the words on the screen kept scrolling, over and over.

Her heart, after all, fell out of rhythm.

She got up, went to the window to take a breath, and pulled open the heavy curtains.

A familiar face broke into view unexpectedly.

It was Aiden Fordham.

He was leaning against the car door, a cigarette between his fingers, standing outside the estate, slightly raising his head, looking in her direction.

When he saw her, he visibly froze.

Stella froze too, quickly closing the curtains the next second.

Her heart beat a little fast. What was he doing outside?

She sat back at the computer, trying to refocus on her work, but her fingers wouldn’t cooperate.

Errors kept popping up in the code, and she had to keep rewriting, unable to concentrate at all.

Half an hour passed.

She couldn’t help but sneak a peek by slightly drawing the curtain again.

He was still there.

He was making a phone call, but his gaze remained locked on her window. When she poked her head out, he seemed to sense it and paused.

She quickly closed the curtains again.

The little 001 by her side surprisingly made a soft snoring sound, falling asleep.

This guy could even mimic human sleep, truly impressive.

A wave of drowsiness hit her, and she leaned back in the chair and dozed off for a bit.

She didn’t know how long she had slept.

When she opened her eyes again, the outside had returned to calm.

She opened the curtains once more; the familiar car was gone, and so was the figure.

Her eyes dimmed as she let out a sigh of relief.

She took a water cup and walked out of the study to get some warm water.

When she returned to the study, she found the curtains closed again, though she didn’t remember closing them.

Suddenly, a warm, large hand wrapped around her waist from behind.

A familiar masculine scent enveloped her.

A voice filled with a smile sounded by her ear.

"You obviously miss me but pretend not to care. It’s so hard to watch."

Stella’s heart shook violently.

"Aiden Fordham, you dare come in? Forgotten the lesson from last time?"

He chuckled lowly, the vibration in his chest transmitted through the thin fabric to her back.

"Because you missed me, I had to come up."

"Keep closing the curtains, you’ll break the curtain rod."

Stella immediately frowned, raising her voice a little, "Who misses you? Let go of me."

His magnetic voice stroked the rim of her ear.

"I am yours, whenever you want me, I’ll show up right away."

Stella’s heart trembled; she lowered her voice and rebuked.

"Aiden Fordham, I haven’t forgiven you yet, stop pestering me."

He only replied with a gentler tone.

"I know. I’m asking for your forgiveness."

After saying that, he turned her around, making her face him.

Then, a kiss landed.

The kiss was gentle, without a hint of dominance, just softly lingering.

Stella tried to push him away.

He simply took her light body and sat down on the chair with her.

He leaned in again, kissing deeper.

Their breath was entirely stolen away.

She could only tilt her head back, forced to accept this kiss tinged with a cool minty scent.

In those deep eyes, intense love was overflowing.

He seemed intent on giving her all the world’s beauty.

Damn, this man, she couldn’t push him away...

Stella drowned in his tenderness, allowing him to lead her into the unknown deep sea...

in the corner quietly covered its electronic eyes.

It turned its wheels, gliding out the door, thoughtfully closing it behind.

This time, it wouldn’t dare report the President again, even beaten to death.

In its core memory, one command was deeply ingrained.

Absolute loyalty to President Fordham.

The president’s happiness is 001’s happiness.

By afternoon, the temperature suddenly dropped, and the entire sky turned gloomy.

Outside the Sterling Family mansion, Hugh Whitman leaned against a solid black Maybach, the cigarette between his fingers burned to its stub.

His unprecedented visit, along with the carefully selected gifts in the trunk, was blocked by the tightly closed decorative iron gates of the Sterling Family.

He irritably ground the cigarette butt under his foot.

Butler Young came out, with a polite yet distant smile on his face.

"Eldest Master Whitman, you should go back first."

Uncle Young’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, filled with unabashed regret.

This upright figure, this flawless face, clearly a perfect match for the young lady.

Why is it that it just... doesn’t work out.

Sigh.

God is indeed fair, not bestowing all good things upon one person.

Hugh Whitman seemed not to hear, lighting another cigarette, taking a deep drag, letting the nicotine crash in his lungs.

He just wouldn’t leave.

In the swirling smoke, his eyes, slightly narrowed, stared at the cold iron gate.

Suddenly, he steeled his heart, threw the cigarette to the ground.

With a running start, he placed his hands on the top of the railing, flexed his waist and abdomen, and agilely flipped over.

The entire movement was as fluid as water, without a trace of hesitation.

Upstairs, Vivi Sterling had just stepped out of her room, witnessing this scene as if it belonged in a spy movie.

The next second, she came to her senses and shouted, "Uncle Young, there’s a burglar in the house."

Before the words were out, that figure was approaching the villa with incredible speed.

He took just one leap, landed on the first-floor windowsill for leverage, and with a push of his arms, he was on the second-floor balcony in a few moves.

Vivi Sterling hadn’t reacted yet when a scent of tobacco and chilly air washed over her.

The man extended his long arm, pulling her, frozen in place, into his embrace, and led her into the room.

With a "bang," he kicked the door shut with his foot.

She was encircled in a warm and solid chest, her heart racing uncontrollably, "thump, thump".

The feeling almost burst through her chest.

Damn.

This man was too handsome.

That decisiveness, that skill... reminded her of Zane Zimmerman.

Downstairs, Butler Young heard the shout and hurried out with a few bodyguards, taking a lap around the yard.

There wasn’t a burglar in sight.

Or a ghost for that matter.

Inside the room, the man’s magnetic, deep voice sounded almost against her ear.

"Vivi, give me a chance."

This blunt declaration of love was like a bucket of cold water, instantly extinguishing the faint stirrings in Vivi Sterling’s heart.

She abruptly pushed him away.

"Eldest Master Whitman, I’ve said, we’re not suitable. I won’t marry you."

His eyes flickered with loss, and his voice lowered.

"Why?"

"Because the Whitman family is annoying." Vivi Sterling said bluntly.

"Just think, if I became your wife, Corinne would be my sister-in-law. We’d probably make the trending news headlines daily."

But Hugh Whitman had a faint smile on his lips.

"She will never become your sister-in-law."

"Besides, I won’t let anyone bully you, rest assured."

Vivi Sterling was a little taken aback, then nodded approvingly.

"You want to leave the Whitman family? That’s a very wise decision."

Unexpectedly, he just smiled.

He smiled so attractively, it seemed to brighten the entire room, rendering everything else in the world dull by comparison.

It was a charm that only a top-tier gentleman could have.

Vivi Sterling was a bit dazed, coming back to herself, she almost slapped her forehead.

What nonsense had she been thinking just now?

"As long as you’re willing to be with me, no matter the condition, I will agree." His voice carried an undeniable seriousness.

Vivi Sterling gazed deeply at him, then suddenly turned and opened the drawer of the bedside table.

She took out a silver mask from a velvet box, and the cracks on it had been skillfully repaired to perfection.

"Then I want you to wear this and live with me." She held up the mask, her tone calm yet firm, "Can you do it?"

As she finished speaking, she wanted to place the mask on his face.

Hugh Whitman abruptly grasped her wrist with such force that it made her wince in pain.

His face darkened completely, the pressure around him dropping terrifyingly low.

"Anything but this."

He would never be the shadow of Zane Zimmerman again.

Such a substitution would only keep her trapped in the past, forever unable to move on.

In fact, he wasn’t really Zane Zimmerman. That devil was shot dead by Tyson Sterling five years ago, and he was sent to take on that identity, taking over half of Mardale.

Later, they secretly wiped out all the crime in Mardale until they seized the whole city back.

After five years, he finally could rid himself of that haunted place, and her arrival became his salvation, his lifelong obsession...

It’s because he became her indispensable love, and they had a child, that Tyson decided to let him come back, while he stayed there. Originally, this chance to return home was his...

But all of this was classified, and he could say nothing.

Vivi Sterling suddenly laughed, though the smile didn’t reach her eyes, and instead, her eyes started to redden.

"True, you will never be him."

"Even if you wear the mask, you cannot replace him. Eldest Master Whitman, you should go back."

She withdrew her hand, gingerly placing the mask back in the box, her movements as tender as if she was handling a rare treasure.

Unexpectedly, the person behind approached once more, hugging her tightly from behind.

His deep voice had a trace of an unnoticeable plea, echoing in her ear.

"Vivi, give me a chance, I will make you happy."

Vivi Sterling forcefully pushed him away, her voice ice-cold.

"The happiness I want, you can never provide. He’s gone, my happiness is gone."

Hugh Whitman didn’t move, but his hands hanging at his sides clenched into fists, veins bulging on the backs, as if suppressing something intensely.

The air was deadly silent.

After a long while, she looked at him, adding ruthlessly.

"Eldest Master Whitman, you can’t even be a real man, how dare you talk about happiness?"

That statement was like a needle, stabbing into Hugh Whitman’s most sensitive nerve.

He suddenly stepped forward, pulling her back into his arms, close to his burning chest.

The man’s voice was very low, with a deadly allure.

"Shall we try?"

"Who knows, maybe I can."

Vivi Sterling was startled, her whole body frozen.

"Who wants to try with you, let me go."

But he completely ignored her struggles, bowing his head, dominantly capturing her lips.

His hot breath forcefully savoring the fragrance within her mouth.

That familiar sensation surged through all her senses.

Vivi Sterling’s head exploded with a "buzz".

This feeling, this kiss, why was it so familiar, she had tasted it many times—that was... Zane Zimmerman’s breath.

She snapped to her senses, mustering all her strength, biting down hard.

Blood seeped between their lips.

Taking advantage of his pain, she pushed him away forcefully.

When Hugh Whitman looked at her again, he found her already in tears.

Those beautiful eyes, filled with sorrow like a bursting dam, flooding out, almost consuming her entirely.

"Don’t cry." Hugh Whitman’s heart tightened, instinctively reaching out to hold her, his voice full of regret.

Vivi Sterling, as if soulless, did not spare him a glance, turning and rushing out of the room.

She was crazy.

This man... was not Zane Zimmerman.

How could she, how could she have been moved by him even for a moment?

She could never betray her Zane Zimmerman.

She wouldn’t!