“Do you like this birthday gift, Mark?”
In the flickering candlelight, Rianne stood adorned in a black satin slip dress, the fabric cascading smoothly, accentuating her graceful silhouette.
Entwined with one another, they clung together as intimately as the wavering candle flames.
When breathless, Rianne pulled away from the man’s warm lips, her slender arms draped around his neck, breathing softly.
The man’s coarse fingertips brushed against the vivid red mole on her neck, his eyes filled with deepening emotion. In a hoarse voice, he asked, “I’m curious. We’ve been married for three years, and every year you celebrate my birthday a day early. The first year you were busy with your thesis, the second, a friend had cancer. This year...what’s your reason?”
“I have a business trip tomorrow. Sorry, Mark.”
Rianne tilted her head, revealing a smooth jawline. Her eyes, like dewy peach blossoms, held an apologetic expression, yet she resembled a budding rose, tempting to be plucked.
Instantly, Michael's interest was piqued, his hot palm pressed against her waist, taking the lead.
After a bout of passion, both were drenched in sweat.
Michael gently pushed back her damp hair.
Rianne, soft and pliant, rested in his arms for a moment before speaking sweetly, “Mark, I made you a cake. You must finish it later.”
As she spoke, her gaze fell on the beautifully crafted cake on the table, with “Mark, Happy birthday” written in icing.
Married to Michael for three years, Rianne always meticulously prepared for his birthday a day early, making even outsiders comment on their deep bond.
But only Rianne knew that Michael was only enamored with her appearance, which bore a striking resemblance to someone else.
Yet, it didn’t matter. As long as she was by his side.
She gently sliced the cake, cutting a piece with the “Mk”, and presented it to Michael with a smile, her peach blossom eyes twinkling.
“This stands for your name. I hope that by eating it, we can always be together, inseparable.”
Michael's eyelids lifted slightly. In the candlelight, the woman held the cake, dressed in a black slip dress. Her porcelain-white arms glowed in the soft light, adding to her allure. Even her breath seemed to play a melody that stirred the soul.
The embers of his desire flared once more.
“The cake can wait.”
Michael set the cake aside, scooped Rianne up, and headed toward the bedroom.
A soft, pitiful cry suddenly sounded behind them, “Brother Michael.”
They turned to see Abigail standing in the living room, her face pale as if struck by a blow.
“What are you doing here?”
Michael set Rianne down, his deep voice tinged with irritation at being interrupted.
Hidden behind the man, Rianne peeked out, revealing the bruises on her shoulders and collarbone to Abigail’s view.
A flash of jealousy crossed Abigail’s eyes as she glanced at the cake on the table, saying, “Brother Michael, Rianne doesn’t truly love you. She can’t even remember your birthday.”
Rianne chuckled lightly, her eyes full of mockery, “This is our marital game, Ms. Crowe. Isn’t that a bit too much for you to handle?”
Abigail’s face contorted with discomfort. She glanced at Michael, hoping he would stand up for her.
But Michael didn’t even look at her. His tone was cold as he asked, “What exactly do you want?”
Abigail took a deep breath, suppressing her jealousy, and approached Michael with a coquettish tone, “Brother Michael, someone took my role. It’s a major production with Emperor Caleb, something my sister worked hard to get for me. I didn’t want to upset her... so I had to come to you.”
Afraid Michael would refuse, she emphasized the word “sister” heavily.
Her sister Jacinda was someone Michael admired. He wouldn’t turn her away for her sister’s sake.
Sure enough, as soon as she finished speaking, the man nodded, “I’ll have my assistant handle it.”
Although Michael wouldn’t personally intervene, Abigail still felt a hint of dissatisfaction. However, she forced a smile, feigning delight, “Thank you, Brother Michael.”
Hearing her exaggerated tone, Rianne scoffed, “With such distant relations, you still have the face to ask for help. Is the Crowe family bankrupt?”
“Rianne, you!”
Michael built his empire from scratch, now reigning supreme in Drakroit, their city. His striking looks and prestigious status made many yearn for his attention.
Abigail’s painstakingly built connection with him was ruined by a single comment from Rianne.
Her heaving chest revealed her intense jealousy.
But with Michael present, she had to restrain herself.
Just then, a sudden ringing interrupted. Michael answered the call, and after hearing the other end, his expression darkened. He turned to Abigail, saying, “You can leave now.”
With that, he strode out of the living room.
Abigail followed Michael outside, glancing at the ajar door, her eyes darting. “Brother Michael, you go ahead. I forgot something inside.”
Rianne sat lost in thought, the untouched cake beside her.
The spacious living room seemed empty, making her appear abandoned and lonely.
Seeing this, Abigail’s mood lifted. She walked over to Rianne, boasting, “Rianne, even if my sister is married, he still does things for me because of her.
That’s the difference between love and no love!”
Rianne didn’t spare her a glance, picking up a fork to eat the cake.
Used to being the center of attention, Abigail couldn’t tolerate being ignored. She flipped the cake onto the floor, “What are you doing now? Brother Michael doesn’t even care to celebrate with you. Rianne, you’re the biggest joke in the world!”
Before the words faded, a lump of cake splattered onto Abigail’s face. Rianne had picked up the fallen cake and plastered it on her!
Her voice was icy, “Since you love taking what’s not yours, here’s your fill!”
Abigail’s meticulously styled hair, makeup, and expensive dress were smeared with cream, driving her to a furious breakdown. She screamed, “You’re just a substitute for my sister! What are you so proud of?”
“A substitute? At least I have the privilege to stand beside Michael, something you’ll never have.”
Rianne’s laughter was full of disdain, looking at Abigail like a clown.
The words stabbed Abigail’s heart like a knife, making her clench her fists, her gaze venomous.
Rianne chuckled, continuing, “And your sister is married to Michael’s uncle. As long as I don’t divorce, the position of Mrs. Palmer is mine.”
“Your filthy schemes can only rot in the dark, just like you!”
Abigail trembled, her nails digging into her palms as she screamed, “Rianne!”
“I can hear you. No need to shout.”
Rianne lifted her eyebrows, pointing to the door, “Ms. Crowe, if you don’t want more humiliation, you’d better leave now.”
Abigail glared venomously at Rianne, lunging to scratch her face.
Rianne calmly dodged, watching her fall awkwardly to the floor, and clapped her hands.
The bodyguards outside immediately came in, dragging Abigail away.
She looked back in shock. Why were the Palmer family’s bodyguards taking orders from her?
Before she could figure it out, she was thrown out.
Rianne had dismissed the servants to celebrate Michael’s birthday.
Now, she was left alone to clean up the mess.
After a while, with the floor clean, a thin layer of sweat formed on Rianne’s forehead. She was about to wipe it away when Michael’s call came through.
His voice was still rich and deep, “Did you finish the cake?”
Rianne glanced at the cake she had thrown in the trash, her expression unchanged, but her voice carried a hint of grievance, “No.”
“Why not?” Michael asked.
“Abigail didn’t leave earlier,” Rianne replied indirectly, her tone tinged with sorrow, “She said I wasn’t worthy of celebrating your birthday. Mark, do you think the same?”