The Jilted Heiress And Her Possessive Guardian

Ardella stopped breathing. She pressed her shoulder blades hard against the velvet wallpaper of the hallway, trying to put as much space between them as possible.

Ethelbert did not slow down. His long, powerful legs moved silently across the wool carpet.

In the fraction of a second before they passed each other, Ethelbert shifted his body just an inch toward her.

The cold metal of his suit cufflink brushed against the fabric of her trench coat. It made a tiny, scratching sound.

Ardella's heart violently contracted. The physical contact sent a shockwave through her body. Her brain instantly flashed back to two years ago, to the penthouse, when his hands had roughly ripped the buttons off her shirt.

She kept her eyes glued to the pattern on the floor. She prayed for him to just walk past her.

Ethelbert walked by without looking at her. He treated her like she was nothing but empty air.

Leo, walking behind him, gave her a small, polite nod. But Ardella saw the complicated pity in the assistant's eyes.

She did not nod back. She sped up her walking, desperate to escape the hallway that was now completely filled with Ethelbert's scent.

She thought she was safe. Then, a loud, greasy voice echoed from the other end of the hall. It was the hedge fund manager from Braden's room.

The man ran out into the hall, trying to suck up to Ethelbert. "Mr. Stone! Sorry you had to see that little drama just now!"

Ardella froze in her tracks. A layer of cold sweat broke out on her spine.

She heard Ethelbert stop walking. His deep, cello-like voice echoed in the quiet space.

"What drama?" Ethelbert asked. His tone was completely flat.

The manager pointed a sweaty finger at Ardella's back. He laughed and said it was just the pathetic woman who got cheated on by the Coffey kid.

Ardella felt a heavy, crushing stare land on her back. It felt like a physical weight pressing down on her shoulders.

She stood frozen. Her fingers gripped the leather handles of her Hermes bag so hard her knuckles turned white.

The manager kept talking. He asked if Ethelbert knew the notorious niece of the Price family.

The hallway went dead silent. The air was sucked out of the room.

A few seconds passed. Then, Ethelbert let out a low, quiet laugh. There was zero warmth in the sound.

He spoke very slowly, his voice dripping with absolute disdain. "I don't know her."

Those four words were like cold knives plunging straight into Ardella's chest.

She knew he would say that. She expected it. But hearing him deny her existence so brutally still caused a physical pain that made her throat close up.

The manager laughed, agreeing that a low-class gold digger was beneath Mr. Stone's notice.

Ardella ground her teeth together. She forced the burning tears back down her throat.

She did not turn around. She straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and walked proudly toward the elevator.

The metal doors opened. She stepped inside and started hitting the close button over and over again.

Just as the doors were about to shut, she looked through the narrowing gap. Her eyes met Ethelbert's.

There was no indifference in his ice-blue eyes now. There was only a bottomless, dark obsession and a terrifying possessiveness.

The doors slammed shut. Ardella slumped against the cold metal wall of the elevator. She gasped for air, her chest heaving as if she had just survived a car crash.