Chapter 3
The receptionist's smile froze, and security guards hurried over, but the name Norton made them hesitate to get involved.
Yes, exactly that! He had to make the scene blow up! Blow it up big enough for the reporters to come! Let him make the front-page headlines tomorrow! My heart was racing with excitement.
[Shocking! CEO of Ashford Group's Scandalous Love Life Exposed! Girlfriend Confronts Him for Money!]
I already had the headline ready.
Just as I was making a bigger scene, the crowd suddenly stirred.
"Mr. Ashford!" someone called out.
"Mr. Ashford!" another voice chimed in.
I abruptly stopped and looked up.
Norton emerged from his exclusive elevator, flanked by his top executives.
He was still in that impeccably tailored suit, standing tall and aloof—radiating an untouchable, icy elegance that made my messy, dramatic antics look downright ridiculous by comparison.
His eyes cut through the crowd and locked right onto me.
There was no anger, no sign of impatience.
Was that...a hint of a smile on his lips?
Had he gone mad? His own place was being trashed, yet he could still laugh about it? I was completely bewildered.
Everyone expected Norton to explode and toss me out for having the nerve to cause a scene in his own building.
But instead, he walked over to me, step by step.
He crouched down, and with everyone watching in disbelief, reached out and gently wiped away tears that didn't even exist.
"What's wrong?" His voice was so gentle it almost didn't seem real. "Who's been picking on you?"
I was completely dumbfounded.
Come on, man, he couldn't keep up the act anymore! Why couldn't he just follow the script?
I tried to say something, but before I could even get a word out.
He suddenly swept me up into his arms.
The world spun around me.
Without thinking, I clung to his neck.
"Did you miss me? Why didn't you just call?" Norton looked down at me, his voice full of helpless affection. "Did you really have to go to such lengths just to see me?"
He carried me toward the elevator, completely ignoring everyone else.
Everyone was left standing there, jaws on the floor.
"Next time you want to come to the office, just use my name at the door," he said.
"My money is your money. Why bother asking?
"Next time, don't sit on the floor. It's chilly down there," he added.
He carried me into his private elevator, and the doors slid shut, shutting out everyone else.
The moment the doors closed, Norton's smile disappeared in a heartbeat.
He pressed me firmly against the elevator wall, his arms braced on either side, trapping me in.
"Had enough?" Norton asked, his tone sharp.
His voice was cold as ice.
Here it came! This was his true face! I knew it! My heart was pounding.
I was so scared I couldn't even get a word out.
He leaned in, his breath dangerously close to my ear.
"You like to play, huh?" Norton murmured, his voice icy.
"Alright, I'll play with you," he said, not missing a beat.
I was under house arrest.
Norton had me locked up in the penthouse at Ashford Tower.
The panoramic windows gave me a full 360-degree view of the city lights at night.
The place was so over-the-top luxurious, my bargain-bin outfit looked like it didn't belong here at all.
It was gorgeous.
But it was also a dazzling golden cage.
"Starting today, you're living here," Norton said, loosening his tie and tossing it onto the sofa. "Do you like it?"
Like hell it was love! This was illegal imprisonment!
But I nodded like a bobblehead. "I love it! I love it so much!"
He smiled, clearly pleased.
"Good," he said.
He walked over, tilted my chin up, and studied my face.
"You came to the office today because you felt insecure, right?" Norton asked.
God! What I had wanted to say was that we were not right for each other, so please just let me go.
"You think I haven't given you enough, so you had to make a scene to stake your claim on me in front of everyone," he said.
How was his brain wired? He could actually twist it back around like that? I was utterly speechless.
I just stared at him, at a total loss for words.
But he took my silence as confirmation, and the possessiveness in his eyes burned even brighter.
"Got it," he said.
He let go of me, pulled out his phone, and started dialing.
"Marcus, draw up the paperwork. I want fifty percent of my assets transferred to Sloane York," he said.
"Nathan, clear my schedule for next week. I'm dedicating it to Sloane," he added.
I just stood there, mouth hanging open, watching him bark out orders like he owned the place.
What madness! The whole world had completely gone mad. I was completely floored.
Right then, the doorbell chimed.
At the entrance stood a girl in a white dress, her long hair cascading down, looking like the picture of innocence.
"Norton!" she called, her voice sweet and full of affection.
Her eyes lit up the moment she saw Norton, practically launching herself at him.
I recognized her.
That was Lilian Vance—the heroine of the original story, Norton's childhood sweetheart, a classic white lotus: all innocent on the outside, but a master manipulator underneath.
Norton shifted aside with practiced ease, dodging her hug.
Lilian's gaze landed on me, her eyes flickering with jealousy and disdain.
"Norton, who is she? Why is she even here?" Lilian demanded, pointing at me. "And what is she wearing? That outfit is so beneath this place, totally not fit for company."