My CEO Husband Says I'm Irreplaceable

Chapter 66: Chapter 66: Throwing Herself at Him?

Vesper suppressed the rising panic and forced herself to stay calm. She reached out and gently patted the back of Shiloh Sloan’s hand.

"Don’t be afraid. It’s going to be okay."

She immediately pulled out her phone and dialed Jared Hawthorne’s number.

"President Hawthorne, something’s happened to Shiloh." In a hushed voice, she briefly recounted receiving the dead bird.

On the other end of the line, Jared Hawthorne’s voice was low, with a faint hint of teasing.

"So, Miss Grayson... are you asking for my help again?"

Vesper froze. It was only then that she realized she had instinctively turned to him for help.

Who was Jared Hawthorne? He was the youngest person to take the helm of the Hawthorne family. A ruthless and decisive magnate from The Exchange, he could approve hundred-billion-dollar projects in the midst of casual conversation.

’Was he someone she could just order around at will?’

Besides, all they had was a marriage contract. They weren’t even formally engaged.

’He’d just been so pleasant to her lately that she’d made the mistake of thinking his devil-may-care attitude hid a gentle nature.’

"...Could I?" she asked softly.

A faint smile touched Jared Hawthorne’s lips. How could he possibly refuse her?

"Tonight is Maurice Sawyer’s wife’s birthday banquet. You’ll accompany me."

Maurice Sawyer, the Chief of Police for Northolme City.

’A man of his stature... Normally, she wouldn’t even be qualified to get near him.’

"All right," she agreed. "Are you picking me up, or should I meet you somewhere?"

"I’ll pick you up."

With that terse reply, he hung up.

Shiloh Sloan had been straining to listen but couldn’t make out what was said. The moment Vesper hung up, she hurried over to ask.

"Well?"

"He didn’t explicitly agree, but I don’t think he refused. I have to go out with him later."

"It’s not... that again, is it...?"

Shiloh Sloan’s gaze swept suggestively over her neck before she wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"..."

"Bonnie, I’m so sorry you have to go through all this for me!"

Vesper recalled their tumultuous last evening and thought to herself, ’Surely that man isn’t that much of a beast, right?’

Twenty minutes later, Leon Quillan’s voice came from outside the door.

"Miss Grayson, it’s me."

She opened the door to find Leon Quillan standing there, flanked by two solemn, well-trained bodyguards.

"It’s not safe here anymore. You need to move. I’ve brought some men to take charge of your security, Miss Grayson."

’Jared Hawthorne’s arrangement.’

Shiloh Sloan spoke up immediately. "I have another property, a house I just bought recently. I’d like to stay there for the time being."

"What’s the address?" Leon Quillan asked.

She recited an address.

"It used to be a restaurant, so there’s a lot of foot traffic in the area."

Leon Quillan nodded and glanced at the two men behind him.

Shiloh Sloan quickly left with the two bodyguards.

"Text me if anything happens."

"Okay."

Only after watching them leave did Leon Quillan turn to Vesper.

"Miss Grayson, President Hawthorne instructed me to take you home first."

"Sorry to trouble you."

"President Hawthorne also advised that you avoid meeting with Miss Sloan until the culprit is caught, lest you be targeted as well."

"All right, I understand."

She was never one to be reckless. She knew that with something like this, the slightest carelessness could be fatal.

On the way back, Vesper asked, "Leon, did President Hawthorne give any specific instructions for this evening? Is there anything I need to prepare?"

Leon Quillan replied respectfully, "No, ma’am. Your presence is all that’s required. President Hawthorne has already prepared a gift."

After dropping her off at the Grayson Residence, Leon Quillan drove away.

「Three in the afternoon.」

Joyce Rivers was in the courtyard, tending to her hibiscus flowers.

She glanced up when Vesper arrived, but acted as if she hadn’t seen her and immediately went back to trimming the flowers.

Being ignored was fine with her; she didn’t want to talk to Joyce either.

Back in her room, she began to choose an outfit for the evening.

’I wonder what this Mrs. Spencer likes.’

’It would be best to cater to her tastes and make a good impression.’

But there was too little time, and no way for her to find out.

In the end, she decided on a cheongsam. It was elegant and proper without being overly ostentatious.

At six o’clock, she received a call from Jared Hawthorne.

"Downstairs."

Vesper immediately grabbed her bag and headed downstairs.

Hearing the movement, Gwen Grayson looked up.

Seeing how beautifully dressed Vesper was, she let out a small huff.

Jonathan Grayson’s eyes lit up. "Big Sis, you’re so pretty! You look like a fairy."

"And you’re very cute too, Jonathan," Vesper said with a warm smile.

She was already beautiful to begin with, and the smile made her even more radiant.

Gwen Grayson stared, dumbfounded. By the time she snapped out of it, she heard Vesper speaking to their housekeeper.

"Miss Felicia, if Dad asks about me, just tell him I went out."

A moment later, she disappeared through the front door.

’All dressed up like that... She must be off to seduce some man again!’

Furious, Gwen Grayson grabbed Jonathan Grayson’s ear. "Isn’t your real sister pretty? You little suck-up, why do you only ever fawn over Vesper!"

Jonathan Grayson yelped in pain and opened his mouth to bite her, scaring Gwen into quickly letting go. Seizing the opportunity, Jonathan scampered up the stairs and made a face at her.

"Second Sis is an old witch! Blehhh..."

"Jo-na-than Gray-son! You’re asking for it!"

"Mommy! The old witch is hitting a kid!"

...

Outside the main gate, she saw a black Maybach parked by the side of the road.

The man was standing by the car, his figure cloaked in shadow. The only thing visible was the intermittent scarlet glow of a cigarette, his silhouette indistinct.

Hearing her approach, the man lifted his gaze to look at her.

His gaze landed on her and refused to move. An inexplicable feeling stirred in his heart. ’So this is what it looks like,’ he thought, ’to wear the cool light of the moon.’

Under the warm yellow light, she wore a pale, celadon-gray jacquard cheongsam, a fluffy, cream-white shawl draped over her arm. She looked like a piece of celadon porcelain rinsed by autumn waters—cool, pristine, and clean.

Her voluminous black hair was styled in lazy French waves that fell loosely over her shoulders. Combined with the cheongsam, the effect was both gentle and ethereal.

His Adam’s apple bobbed convulsively, and the color of his eyes instantly deepened to the shade of spilled ink.

"What’s wrong?" Seeing his silence, Vesper asked nervously, "Is this not appropriate?"

"As long as you like it, it’s fine."

Jared Hawthorne opened the passenger door, placing a hand over the top of the frame to shield her head.

"Get in."

Vesper lowered her gaze and bent over. Just as she was about to slide into the car, her ankle twisted, and she lost her balance, falling backward.

The next second, she fell straight into the broad, warm embrace of the man behind her.

A crisp, masculine scent instantly enveloped her. Her back was pressed firmly against his solid chest, and she could clearly feel the steady, powerful rhythm of his heart.

Jared Hawthorne’s long arm shot out, wrapping firmly around her slender waist. The heat of his palm seemed to sear her skin right through the fabric of the cheongsam.

His Adam’s apple bobbed again, his gaze turning profound. He looked down at the woman in his arms and chuckled softly.

"Throwing yourself at me?"

Vesper frantically pushed him away, using the motion of buckling her seatbelt to hide her panic.

"Of course not! Stop being so full of yourself, President Hawthorne!"

Jared Hawthorne raised an eyebrow, then got into the driver’s seat and drove away with her.

Tranquil Garden.

It was an old courtyard-style private kitchen, hidden deep within an alley. Not open to the public, it only received distinguished guests with advance reservations.

Vermilion gates were set in gray walls under blue tiles. Stepping inside revealed a tranquil, elegant courtyard with tastefully sparse greenery, where even the sound of the wind was perfectly hushed.

The entire establishment served only one table of guests at a time, offering excellent soundproofing and extreme privacy.

The interior was a model of understated Chinese luxury. The lighting was warm and soft, and every detail exuded an unpretentious air of nobility.

It was even more high-end and luxurious than Whispering Breeze Lodge.

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