Chapter 2
As soon as we got back to the villa, Nathan yanked his hand away from mine.
His tall frame loomed over me, blocking my way in the entryway, his presence heavy and suffocating.
He snapped, "Rachelle, are you done with your drama yet?"
Anger churned in his eyes, the kind of fury only the Richmond family's heir could wield, a pride that brooked no defiance.
Well, look at you, kid, got the nerve to throw a tantrum at me now? Guess someone's feeling bold these days.
I stared him down, calmly pulled out my phone, and opened the Mom System app.
It was the control panel for the Mom System. Right in front of him, I hit the "House Rules" button.
I spoke up. "Rule one: Be home before eleven.
"Rule two: No drinking, and don't touch any woman you don't know.
"Rule three: You have to finish the tonic soup I make for you every day."
With each rule I rattled off, Nathan's expression turned stormier.
"What gives you the right?" he growled, jaw clenched.
"Because of this," I replied, waving my phone right in his face.
On the screen, his health, mood, and even his "filial piety" score were all clearly displayed for him to see.
Just now, since Nathan had actually finished the chicken soup, his "filial piety" score had gone up by two points.
The system handed me a generous bonus.
But if any of his scores dropped too low, the system would kick in with its punishment routine.
We both knew what that mind-numbing pain felt like.
Nathan obviously also recalled that unbearable memory, his face instantly turning pale.
He slumped against the wall, and for a moment, his imposing figure seemed oddly fragile and defeated.
He said, "Rachelle, we're just strangers forced together by this system. Are you really going to take this role so seriously?"
Honestly, with the kind of money the system dished out, how could I ever say no?
I put my phone away, stepped closer, and, imitating those caring mothers from TV dramas, fixed his collar for him.
"My sweetie, it's all for your own good," I said.
My cool fingertips brushed his hot skin. Nathan flinched, as if I'd burned him, and jerked back a step.
His eyes were a storm of emotions I couldn't even begin to decipher. There was anger, humiliation, and maybe even a trace of wounded pride?
"Don't touch me," Nathan said, his voice low and raspy.
I shrugged and headed to the kitchen. "There's some sliced fruit in the fridge. Make sure you eat it.
"And there's an important banquet tomorrow. I've already picked out your outfit. No black, it's way too dull."
Behind me, there was nothing but silence.
I turned around and saw Nathan still standing there, his tall frame looking strangely lonely under the entryway lights.
He was staring at me, his eyes a brewing storm.
The next morning, when I came downstairs, Nathan was already dressed and ready to go.
He was in a crisp white suit that made him look like he stepped right out of a magazine, but his face was pure iceberg.
Damn, he really did look good in white, like a little prince. My son had got some serious genes.
The system must've relayed my inner monologue, because the tips of his ears quietly turned red.
"Let's go," Nathan said coldly, striding out the door without waiting for me.
I knew Ramona would definitely be at tonight's party. The real battle was just getting started.
The party hall was buzzing with energy, filled with the scent of perfume, the clinking of glasses, and the hum of conversation.
The moment Nathan walked in, all eyes were on him.
His face was just too damn good. No matter how many times women saw it, it still hit them like a punch to the gut.
And tonight, Nathan was rocking a blinding white suit that was a total 180 from his usual "keep your distance" vibe.
All the socialites and heiresses were clutching their drinks, practically itching to make a move.
See that? That was the kind of pull my son had.
I hung back, nursing a glass of juice, watching him like a proud mom admiring her kid from afar.
Before long, Ramona showed up. She was wearing a fiery red gown with a daring slit, looking absolutely captivating as she made a beeline straight for Nathan.
"Nathan, you look so handsome tonight." She smiled, subtly moving closer to him, her body language casual but clearly intentional.
Nathan instinctively took a half-step back, putting some distance between them.
That little move made Ramona's smile freeze for a second.
Everyone around caught it, and the whispers started up.
"Isn't that Miss Dotson? She's all over Mr. Richmond again," someone murmured.
"Mr. Richmond's famous for keeping his distance from women. Talk about clueless," another person snickered.
Ramona definitely heard the gossip. She took a deep breath, snatched a glass of red wine off a waiter's tray.
With a casual flick of her wrist, she gasped. The entire glass went flying, soaking Nathan's white suit right on target.
A bright red stain bloomed across his chest in seconds.
"I'm so sorry. Nathan, I swear I didn't mean to," Ramona kept apologizing.
But then, taking the chance, she whipped out a silk scarf and tried to personally clean the stain off Nathan's chest.
Seriously? That move was ancient. Was she really going for the classic fake accident routine?
I watched with a deadpan look, totally unbothered.