Roger Leonard added, "Also, Dora’s car is waiting for you at the hospital entrance. She said if you want to get your suitcase back, just get in the car."
As if determined to sever all ties with this person, Rebecca Quentin strode forward. Roger Leonard didn’t follow her then, knowing she wouldn’t be able to get far.
Sure enough, a moment later, Rebecca was intercepted by two men who appeared to be bodyguards.
One of the bodyguards said, "Miss Quentin, the car is waiting at the entrance. Please get in."
Rebecca glared at the two bodyguards, her voice cold. "If you stop me, I’ll call the police."
The other bodyguard reminded her, "Miss Quentin, as you know, Mr. Geoffrey has very little patience."
Rebecca, now seemingly fearless, retorted coldly, "Then tell your Mr. Geoffrey to threaten all he wants, or he can take my life if he wants."
Seeing Rebecca’s defiant stance, the two bodyguards exchanged a look for a second, then, with a silent understanding, they forcibly carried her into the car.
"Hey! You... let me go! Hey... let go!"
All of Rebecca’s struggles were ultimately silenced by the closing car door.
Rebecca was taken to the same hotel as the previous night, and to the very same room. The bodyguards stood guard outside the door after bringing her in. No matter how she schemed to escape from under their watchful eyes, they always managed to bring her back immediately. Worse, the room featured vast floor-to-ceiling windows, but she couldn’t call for help through them. Ultimately, she could only remain in the room, helpless.
Around noon, as she sat on the edge of the bed, she finally heard the two bodyguards respectfully call out in unison, "Mr. Geoffrey."
She remained seated on the edge of the bed, her back to the door, clearly not wanting to see him. Footsteps entered, and the air seemed to fill with his piercing aura. She hadn’t intended to look at him, but the next second, with a BANG, the door slammed shut. Startled, she shot to her feet.
To her surprise, Howard Geoffrey didn’t do anything. He merely loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, appearing tired as if he had just finished with business matters. His back still to her, he suddenly asked, "Have you had lunch?"
Rebecca turned her head aside and didn’t answer.
Howard Geoffrey didn’t seem angry. He simply stated, "If you’re not hungry, fine. When you are, you’ll naturally call out."
Just as Rebecca was about to say something, Howard Geoffrey had already walked into the suite’s study. The closed study door exuded an inexplicable sense of unease. Rebecca tried to leave again, but the bodyguards still intercepted her the moment she opened the main door. When Rebecca tried to leave yet again, she discovered the door wouldn’t open at all.
Rebecca was completely at a loss. Suddenly, her gaze fell upon the study. Seeing him engrossed in his work, she reluctantly walked over to him.
Facing him, still engrossed in his work, she composed herself and slowly asked, "Why did you bring me here?"
Howard Geoffrey, his eyes still on the documents, replied in a flat, indifferent tone, "Roger was afraid you would die in the hospital."
He always spoke directly—concise and sharp.
"It was just a minor thing; he’s overreacting!"
What did fainting even mean compared to the suffering she had endured these past few years? How many times, waking from nightmares, had she wished to remain unconscious forever? If she never woke up, perhaps this torment and pain wouldn’t exist.
Howard Geoffrey looked up, his gaze sweeping over her stubborn expression. "Judging by the confidence in your voice, he indeed worried unnecessarily."
Meeting his gaze, she said calmly, "I want my suitcase back."
He leaned back in his chair, adjusting to a more comfortable position, and said leisurely, "You finally dare to look me in the eyes."
Ignoring his remark, Rebecca reiterated, "I want my suitcase back!"
Howard Geoffrey seemed unconcerned. "Be my guest."
Rebecca glanced around and suddenly spotted her suitcase right behind him. Without hesitation, she walked over, picked up her suitcase, and turned to leave without a backward glance.
However, just as she was about to step out of the study, his cool, distant voice reached her, "Rebecca Quentin, we were husband and wife once. If you ever truly need help, you can come to me."