"Where's Zayn?"
Suddenly, Shelley's voice came from the outside.
"Umm, Mr. Giblo is handling some important documents right now." Benard intercepted her. "He should be done soon. He'll meet you at the conference room."
"He didn't even have lunch." Shelley presented a sandwich in her hand and smiled. "I made this myself in the restaurant's kitchen. I wanted him to try it."
"How thoughtful of you, Miss Benday." Benard smiled awkwardly. "You can hand it to me, and I'll pass it to him in a bit. You should get some rest.""Can't I go in?"
Right then, Shelley's smile slowly subsided as she stared at the door. It felt as though she could see through it and saw what was happening inside.
"Is Carla inside?"
When Shelley asked that, she still had a smile on her face, but her eyes were oddly cold.
"Umm…" Benard was panicking deep down as he clearly did not know how to hold a lie.
"It's okay. Men will always have to put on a show. Am I right? I understand." Shelley grinned and gave the sandwich to Benard. "Remember to tell him I made that myself."
"Okay. I got it." Benard nodded.
"I'll head over to the conference room first. He can take his time."
Shelley smiled, gracefully turning around and left.
Benard let out his breath and wiped the sweat off his forehead. This woman is too good!
After a long while, Zayn finally stopped his rampage and turned around to tidy up his outfit.
Carla got dressed and was about to leave.
"You plan on going out like that?" Zayn called out with an icy tone. "Go freshen up in the washroom."
Hearing that, Carla gave him a death stare before walking into the washroom.
She drenched her body in warm water while noticing all the red markings on her pale skin. Those were an indication of how much force Zayn had used earlier.
Carla looked into the mirror. Her reflection seemed like a stranger to her. At that moment, she was fed up with it and did not want any more of what was going on.
Zayn would always go on a rampage without warning, having his way with her ruthlessly while showing no respect whatsoever. He could not care less about her feelings.
Carla felt like she was just a tool.
But what can I do?
There was no way I can escape from him.
Maybe it'll all be done once he gets married. She let out a deep sigh and tidied up herself before walking out.
Outside, Zayn sat quietly on the sofa with a glass of wine.
On the coffee table, there was a med kit.
"Treat yourself." Zayn knew Carla was out of the washroom without even looking.
Hence, Carla went and sat on the sofa, applying disinfectant to her hand. Her expression twisted in pain.
Zayn stared at her hand and spoke all of a sudden, "My father and grandfather looked very similar."
Without uttering a single word, Carla looked at him with a cold stare and continued treating her wound.
Her mind, however, worried about how Zayn had not treated his wound.
"I look like them too. My aunt, Boris, we all look alike. One glimpse, and you could tell we're from the Giblo family."
Zayn took a sip from his glass and continued, "We have really dominant genes. As long as one's an offspring of the Giblo family, they'll all look very similar!"
His words got Carla thinking. Right then, she suddenly realized what he was going towards. He's talking about Venus! Venus doesn't look like him!
This was the reason why Carla could deceive him – the reason Zayn never bothered investigating their background.
All along, he had already determined that Venus was not his child.
After all, Venus should look like him if she was.
Truth be told, Venus looked more like Carla. Hence, Carla figured that her genes might be even more dominant since her father once told her that she looked exactly like her mother.
Maybe my mom's genes are amazing too.
"I've had suspicions about those three kids being mine. But when I saw them, I gave up on that idea." Zayn sneered at himself. "Grandpa did say they looked like me. I even once thought that there might be something wrong with the genetic inheritance."
"What are you trying to say?" Carla felt tense.
"Let me ask you one last time." Zayn gave Carla a profound look. "Are they my children?"
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