His Wicked Obsession (Archer and Virginia) novel Chapter 74

The moment she closed the door, she turned on the faucet, letting the cold water run over her fingers and cheeks. She rested her hands on the sink and took a few moments to calm her racing heart.

She dried her hands, touched up her makeup, and opened the door.

As soon as the door opened, she saw Archer leaning against the wall, one hand in his pocket, wearing only his black turtleneck cashmere sweater.

The main lights in the hallway weren't on. The warm glow of the wall sconces cast shadows on his profile, softening his usual cold, untouchable demeanor.

Virginia paused for a second before quickly recovering.

She stepped to the side, clearly intending to bypass him and head downstairs.

But his deep, cold voice suddenly rang in her ear, "Don't be with Valentin Hunter."

Virginia froze in place, her brows furrowing slightly.

Her hands, hanging by her sides, slowly clenched. A suffocating wave of tension threatened to shatter the composure she had just regained.

A sharp pang echoed from her chest, spreading through her body. She silently counted in her head: one, two, three...

Inhale slowly, pause, exhale...

She repeated the same rhythm.

By the fifth time, the turbulent emotions in her chest were finally suppressed.

"That's my private business." Her expression was calm, her voice steady. Only her slightly trembling fingertips betrayed the turmoil inside. "Archer. You're married."

"Your wife is Chloe. Don't forget your place."

Silence.

His gaze was intense, something flashing quickly within it.

Virginia didn't want to stay a second longer.

She walked past him, heading toward the stairs. As she passed him, she left one last sentence: "Please keep your distance from now on—Mr. Vanderbilt."

Virginia walked over and sat on the sofa.

Hearing the noise, Cindy looked up.

Her big, bright eyes were slightly tilted at the corners, her nose bridge straight... As she grew older, her features were slowly developing, looking more and more like him.

Her thoughts were briefly pulled back to five years ago, abroad.

The cold, sparse hospital room, the pungent smell of disinfectant, the excruciating, mind-numbing pain of labor...

Cindy was the child Virginia had nearly lost her life giving birth to—his child.

"Mommy!" Cindy held up the doll, shaking it like a prized treasure. "The doll Mr. Archer gave me. I combed her hair today!"

Virginia leaned forward, a smile on her lips. "Yes, Mommy can see that. You did a great job."

Cindy lowered her head, her tiny fingers picking at the lace on the doll's dress, her voice very quiet. "Mommy, Mr. Archer is a really good person... Can he be my daddy?"