Chapter 145: Chapter 145: Gently Crossing the Threshold
Rhys Hawthorne’s broad back blocked Julian Fordham’s gaze towards Victoria Monroe, with only those two slender, white arms around his neck displaying Victoria Monroe’s dependency on him.
Not long ago, she almost took his life with a rose hairpin.
But now, she lay gently upon another man’s chest.
Where Victoria Monroe had stabbed his chest didn’t feel painful, but seeing Victoria Monroe voluntarily embrace Rhys Hawthorne at this moment, his heart ached as if being cut.
Julian Fordham knew he had completely lost.
Reflecting on his scheming over the past six months, the real culprit wasn’t the Fordham Family or Rachel Hayes—it was him.
He was arrogant and delusional, believing he could have his cake and eat it too.
He had lost on the day he began plotting against Victoria Monroe.
He always blamed his mistakes on Rhys Hawthorne, Autumn Fordham, Rachel Hayes.
Yet it was clearly he who agreed to Lana Jameson’s proposal and orchestrated everything.
He kept Victoria Monroe secluded at home, away from anyone’s sight.
His Victoria once trusted him so profoundly that she gave up her career, focused solely on preparing for pregnancy, and didn’t doubt even when he moved all the money from home.
Julian Fordham still remembers asking her at that time, "Aren’t you afraid I’ll fail?"
Victoria Monroe sat on his lap, curled around his neck, and laughed, "If it fails, it fails. At worst, we’ll start over. I know how to handle tough times. As long as a couple is united, there’s no obstacle we can’t overcome. At worst, I can return to acting, and things will get better."
Thinking of this, a tear rolled down from the corner of his eye.
In the end, he was the one who let her down.
It’s a shame people only regret when they lose everything.
Starting over—is there still a chance for him and Victoria Monroe to start over?
At least today he no longer has a reason to keep her.
Rhys Hawthorne patted Victoria Monroe’s back gently as if soothing a child.
Touching her bare back, he realized he hadn’t dressed her properly; her smooth, jade-like skin was entirely exposed.
Already soaked through, the sea breeze chilled Victoria Monroe.
Cold and trembling in his arms, before he could explain the CPR situation, Victoria Monroe’s emotions surged, and she fainted again in his embrace.
Her chest covered with his suit jacket, Rhys Hawthorne, though deeply in love, did not wish to take advantage.
He gently pulled the clothes up from her legs, dressed her in the suit and fastened every button, covering her figure completely.
Just as he intended to carry Victoria Monroe onto the ship, he noticed the glass jar salvaged from the water.
The jar was well-sealed, with no water inside.
Upon careful examination, he found bone fragments not entirely burned to ash, his face changed.
Recalling his dream, in which the grandmother had a dagger in her chest.
And Julian Fordham’s chest was also bleeding; no one else but Victoria Monroe could hurt him.
Rhys Hawthorne instantly understood what had happened.
No wonder Victoria Monroe clung to the glass jar and jumped into the sea; it turned out to contain her grandmother’s ashes.
Thinking of the old lady’s kindness, his heart sank with sorrow.
He now felt a connection with Victoria Monroe’s sense of loss.
He spoke softly to the jar of ashes, "Grandma, rest assured, I will protect Victoria well."
Rhys Hawthorne carried Victoria Monroe and the ashes back to the deck, assuming Julian Fordham’s nature would not relent easily, yet Julian Fordham stood atop the high rocks, still bloodstained.
Too far to see Julian Fordham’s expression clearly.
Assistant Woods returned with his phone, "It’s Julian Fordham’s call."
Connection made, Julian’s low, raspy voice came through, "Rhys Hawthorne, treat Victoria well."
Momentarily stunned, Rhys Hawthorne’s mind raced, considering if this was another of his tricks.
"I’ve wronged her, and I know I can’t keep her anymore."
The next second, Julian Fordham changed the tone: "I will never give up on Victoria, though we’re divorced now, it doesn’t mean I have no chance. I will compete with you fairly."
This was Julian Fordham.
He wouldn’t give up on Victoria Monroe but didn’t wish to use the former method to force her.
Therefore, though painful, he let her go with Rhys Hawthorne. In the future, he would return stronger.
Rhys Hawthorne held Victoria Monroe looking toward Julian Fordham’s direction, his voice steady and firm, "This time, I won’t let go! Victoria Monroe will be my wife, Rhys Hawthorne’s wife."
With that, he signaled, and Assistant Woods hung up the phone.
He gave a few instructions, ensuring the grandmother’s ashes were well cared for, then turned to carry Victoria Monroe back to the room.
The sea breeze ruffled Julian Fordham’s hair as Corbin Prescott observed Julian’s expression cautiously, "Boss, just letting them go like this? Aren’t you afraid Rhys will actually marry her? Then you’ll truly have no chance."
Julian Fordham gazed at Rhys Hawthorne’s departing silhouette on the deck, with deep meaning in his eyes: "Victoria might hate me, but she’s unlikely to move on so quickly. Even if, in the unlikely event, she wishes to marry Rhys, Rhys marrying her won’t be much easier than our divorce."
"Now everyone knows Victoria Monroe once married me; the Hawthorne Family won’t want someone who was married and once part of the entertainment circle to become Rhys Hawthorne’s wife."
Julian Fordham stood, hands behind his back, "The higher Rhys Hawthorne rises, the greater the difficulty between him and Victoria. I understand Victoria’s lack of security when she met someone helping her out of gratitude. The day Rhys shows his love will be the day Victoria leaves him."
He made an unequivocal conclusion, "They won’t end up together. Someday, Victoria will realize the one who loves her most is me."
"But..." Corbin Prescott suddenly spoke up, "Aren’t you afraid of something happening between them?"
"Victoria won’t, Rhys Hawthorne is a gentleman, he wouldn’t either."
Watching the ship sail away, Julian Fordham muttered, "Victoria will return to me, she certainly will."
Rhys Hawthorne brought Victoria Monroe back to the room, placing a layer of bath towel under her.
He came in such a hurry this time, only focused on seeing Victoria Monroe as soon as possible, so he hadn’t prepared any women’s clothing.
On the boat, there were only male crew members and bodyguards, so he had no choice but to use his pajamas to change her into dry clothes.
As he lifted his suit, a visual feast unfolded before his eyes.
The white dress clung to her skin, soaked, with every detail visible beneath the thin fabric.
Rhys Hawthorne finally understood why Julian Fordham would never let go, even at the cost of his life. Victoria Monroe not only had an angelic, exquisite face but also possessed a figure that any woman would envy.
She was God’s most perfect creation, without a single flaw.
Rhys closed his eyes, trying not to look any more.
No matter how careful he was, his fingertips would occasionally brush against her body.
With his eyes closed, his senses became even more acute.
He could distinctly feel her soft yet resilient skin as his fingers touched Victoria Monroe, still carrying moisture from the sea.
It reminded him of peeled lychee, the lustrous flesh carrying a few translucent beads of water.
He tried not to think further, but a thought crossed his mind.
Was Victoria Monroe as soft and sweet as lychee flesh, a single bite sweetening his heart?
Like that kiss caught on camera, which became a nightmare haunting his midnight dreams.
He hadn’t had such dreams since puberty, but after filming that kiss scene, he occasionally found himself dreaming again.
In his dreams, countless times, like a beast out of control, he would tear off her clothing, doing as he pleased.
Recalling his indescribable dreams, Rhys hurriedly draped a coat over her, covered her with a blanket, and fled hastily.
The man in the mirror had flushed ears, and even his pale throat bore a faint sensual hue.
He quickly moved the prayer beads on his wrist, trying to calm his thoughts.
By then, Victoria Monroe and Julian Fordham had already registered their marriage. Every time Rhys thought of his dreams, he didn’t dare look her directly in the eye.
No one knew that beneath his indifferent eyes lay a wild love for the married woman, suppressing his desires with all his might, fearing even a slight lapse she might detect.
She would surely think of him as a perverted anomaly, shameless beyond compare.
At that time, he was only twenty, full of youthful vigor and energy.
The more he suppressed it, the colder he became during the day, and at night, his dreams became increasingly intense.
Later, when Victoria Monroe retired, he specifically flew to meditate at his uncle’s temple.
In the deep mountain, he abandoned all desires, surrounded by flora and fauna, reciting scriptures and meditating. His uncle gifted him a set of prayer beads.
For a full three months, had it not been for Tristan Hawthorne fearing he’d follow his uncle’s path, forcing him back to Portoros, he wouldn’t know how long he would have stayed.
Whether or not he got rid of his inner demons, he wasn’t sure, but after that, he indeed stopped having such dreams.
Rhys thought it might end this way, maybe one day he could truly let go of Victoria Monroe and marry the family-approved bride.
Never again in his life would he love someone else.
Because his heart had long harbored a beam of moonlight irreplaceable by anyone else.
He once scoffed at the destructive power of the white moonlight, now he simply smiled silently.
He calmly embraced his life, as long as Victoria Monroe was happy, he could accept it.
But the moment he learned that Julian Fordham was arranging for a surrogate, and Victoria Monroe contacted him, flying to Portoros personally.
His heart, dormant for so long, revived the moment he saw her.
Love surged like a flood, and Rhys realized he had never truly let her go all these years.
Not only could he not let go, but the long-repressed emotions grew even stronger.
God knows the self-control he had to muster every time Victoria threw herself at him.
Now she appeared before him clean, shedding her identity as a married woman.
To Rhys, it was like a delectable small cake, and his ravenous hunger urged him to devour it in one bite.
But this little cake had just been hurt; he simply couldn’t bear it.
Unwilling to harm her, he could only harm himself.
He sighed, turned on the cold water, stepping under the icy shower.
Having waited for so many years, he couldn’t rush things now.
He didn’t know how long it took, but finally, Rhys cleaned himself up, changed into pajamas, and came out.
He intended to check if she had woken, walking toward Victoria Monroe, but discovered she seemed in discomfort.
Could the child be in trouble?
Rhys lifted the blanket; his pajamas just covered her thighs, fortunately, there was no blood.
He touched her hand, found it cold and trembling slightly; she must have caught a cold when the sea breeze hit her.
There was medicine on the boat, and the situation today differed from the last time in the bathtub. Back then, Victoria didn’t plan to keep the child, so he could, ignoring the consequences, administer medicine to save her life.
Now, with her grandmother’s passing, this child became her only emotional anchor.
Regardless of the child’s development, Rhys couldn’t make the unilateral decision to medicate her again; the consequences of harm were beyond him.
Confirming she had no other symptoms, he had someone prepare a bowl of ginger soup, then carefully cooled it before feeding it to her lips.
Victoria Monroe didn’t have the ability to swallow, and the soup dripped down her lips.
Rhys furrowed his brow, gazing at her dew-like, shiny lips, made a bold decision.
He took the ginger juice into his mouth, leaned down gently, and kissed her lips, delivering it tenderly...