June even had someone draft a resignation letter on the spot and ordered Zoey to give it to Fletcher.
When Zoey brought the letter to his study, she found Fletcher drunk again, slouched in the armchair, staring blankly.
His eyes were fixed on a pendant hanging on the wall.
One glance and Zoey recognized it—a cheap trinket from a street stall.
How could a billionaire like Fletcher treasure something so worthless?
Before she could ask, he spoke first.
“This was a gift from Ashley. Back then, I was dirt poor. She’d been with me since she was eighteen. She told me as long as this little ‘good luck’ pendant stayed with me, I’d become a rich man someday.”
A faint, bitter smile crossed his face.
“Shame the day came, but she’s not here to see it.”
“Tell me, Zoey—just how cruel do you think a woman has to be, to believe I wouldn’t live long and still have the heart to get rid of the baby… and leave me?”
Zoey kept her head down for a long moment before replying softly,
“Have you ever considered that maybe… she died, sir?”
“Impossible!”
Fletcher’s voice sharpened. “Don’t you dare curse her! That cold-blooded woman, she’s been hiding from me for five years, probably living lavishly God-knows-where. How could she possibly be dead?”“Then pretend I said that.” Zoey gave a faint smile. Then she held out the paper in her hand. “Here’s my resignation letter, sir. Miss June asked me to give it to you. She doesn’t want me around.”
That night, the power went out in the villa.
Outside, a heavy storm raged, thunder and lightning cracking the sky.
Zoey opened her wardrobe and pulled out the pajamas she used to wear. Then she went straight to June, putting on an act as if she were a ghost.
That scared the life out of June. A second later came her bloodcurdling scream.
“No! Stay away from me! I didn’t kill you, Ashley—you died because of your own cursed fate!” She was so terrified she looked half out of her mind, stumbling like she was running for her life—only to slam into someone’s chest.
Another ear-splitting scream tore out of her.
“June, it’s me!”
The next second, the lights snapped back on. Fletcher stood there, face cold.
“Cut the act, Zoey!” he snapped. “From the start, I knew you came into this house with your own hidden agenda. Now—care to tell me what you’ve really been plotting?”
At his words, Zoey let out a cold laugh and peeled off the ghost mask.