Chapter 8 Try To Get Along With Him

"Rebecca, how about this? You two give it a try for three months. If, after that, you truly can't get along, I'll think of another solution. How does that sound?" Nicholas Smith, Rebecca's grandfather, suggested kindly, his voice full of patience. "No way. Grandpa, you might as well kill me and be done with it!" Rebecca shot back. "Hello? Hello? My signal's cutting out. Rebecca, we'll talk later. I'm hanging up now." Beep! Before she could say another word, he ended the call, leaving her staring at her phone in disbelief. She blinked, then let out a frustrated yell. "Ugh! Just kill me already!" "Rebecca, what's going on in there?" Before she could collect herself, a carefree, almost roguish laugh echoed from outside the villa. Her expression darkened as she recognized the voice. Her frustration boiled over, and she muttered under her breath, "When it rains, it pours." For a moment, she glared at the ceiling as if silently cursing the heavens. Why is the universe conspiring against me today? But just as panic began to set in, an idea, bold and reckless, struck her. Without a second thought, she crossed the room and plopped herself down beside Ethan, grabbing his arm tightly in hers. "Have you finally decided to marry me, Honey?" Ethan teased, his voice laced with playful humor as he glanced at her. "Absolutely not. But if you don't want to be kicked out of here today—preferably three months from now instead—you'd better help me. That guy outside? Get rid of him, and I'll play along for now." She fixed her gaze on him and said anxiously. The moment those words left her mouth, she couldn't help but mock herself internally. Fine then, let's drag each other down. Deep down, she hoped for one thing: for this tense situation to explode. Ideally, one of the two men would end up storming out, or better yet, they would both suffer in the fallout. "Where's the other guy?" he asked suddenly. As soon as he finished speaking, he noticed a young man appear at the doorway. The man was dressed in an Armani casual outfit and wore a pair of tinted glasses, exuding an air of arrogance. He was accompanied by a small group of lackeys trailing closely behind him. "Rebecca, I heard you scream just now. Is everything okay?" he asked with a charming smile, his tone laced with concern as his gaze fell on Rebecca. Huh? His smile froze mid-sentence. His eyes drifted down to where she was clutching Ethan's arm in an unmistakably intimate gesture. The realization hit him like a freight train, and his face darkened on the spot. His previously relaxed demeanor was quickly replaced by one of seething frustration, his eyes narrowing as they burned into Ethan. "Rebecca, who is this?" the young man demanded, closing the distance between them with brisk strides. His voice carried a sharp edge as his gaze flickered to Ethan, brimming with hostility. Noticing his reaction, Rebecca only leaned closer to Ethan with a mischievous smile. She tilted her head slightly and said, "Mr. Xenon, let me introduce you to my husband, Ethan Cole." Turning to Ethan, she added sweetly, "Darling, this is Tristan Xenon. Mr. Xenon." The moment the words "husband" reached his ears, Tristan's glare grew darker, his hostility escalating. Fury bubbled beneath his composed facade as he stared at Ethan. He had pursued Rebecca relentlessly, sparing no effort in his chase, only to be rebuffed time and time again. Yet here she was now, clinging to a man who, in his eyes, appeared utterly unimpressive. The sheer audacity of it all ignited a fire in his chest. "You're her husband?" he asked, his tone cutting and cold as his piercing gaze remained locked on Ethan. Ethan nodded seriously. "When did you two get married? How come I didn't know about it?" Tristan's voice carried a mix of shock and irritation, his emotions bubbling to the surface. "What's it to you?" Ethan shot him a glance and replied coldly with an unbothered tone. "Kid, are you asking for trouble? Is that how you talk to Mr. Xenon?" "Believe it or not, we'll break your legs right here!" One of Tristan's lackeys couldn't hold back. Seeing Ethan's indifferent attitude, he jabbed a finger at him and began hurling insults. While the lackeys barked, Ethan remained unshaken. He swept his eyes over them, then smirked faintly. It wasn't arrogance, it was pure, effortless disregard, as if their threats were nothing but background noise to him. Rebecca was taken aback as she watched the expression on his face. She hadn't expected him to be this resolute. "Mr. Xenon, you're not allowed to hurt my husband!" she suddenly interjected, clutching Ethan's arm a little tighter. She faced Tristan with steely determination. "And for the record, I'm married now. Stop pestering me from now on." Tristan, a notorious playboy in Sylora, was used to getting what he wanted. His family's wealth and influence gave him free rein to behave as he pleased, and Rebecca had been one of his many targets. Her words, however, hit him like a slap. It was clear she was using Ethan as a shield, hoping to finally rid herself of his relentless pursuit. "Heh." Tristan chuckled, his expression a mix of mockery and disbelief. "Rebecca, I get it. You're testing me, aren't you? You went out of your way to find some random guy to play your husband, just to see how serious I am about you. But come on, if you're going to put on a show, at least find someone more convincing. A country bumpkin like him? You think so little of me?" "I'm not testing you, and this is no act," she shot back, her voice firm and resolute. As she spoke, Tristan turned his gaze toward Ethan. At that moment, he reached into his jacket, pulled out a checkbook, and swiftly began writing down a series of numbers. After filling out the check, he handed it over to Ethan with a frosty expression and said coldly, "Country bumpkin, here's 15,000 dollars. Take it and disappear from my sight. And don't ever let me see you again." "Yeah, pauper, take the money and get lost already." "Extras like you barely make a few hundred dollars a day, and now Mr. Xenon is offering you 15,000 dollars to walk away. You should consider yourself lucky. Now scram!" Tristan's lackeys erupted in jeers, their smug faces alight with glee as they taunted Ethan. Ethan glanced at the check in Tristan's hand. Slowly, he extended his hand toward it. When Rebecca saw Ethan reaching out to take the check, her heart clenched in panic. She stepped forward hastily, her voice trembling with emotion as she cried out, "You are not allowed to take it!"