Chapter 1 : Get Out

Late night.

The sound of running water in the bathroom stopped, and Philip Windsor finished his shower, pushed open the door, and walked out.

A young man was leaning against the headboard of the bed, playing a game. Hearing the noise, he stared at the screen in his hand without looking up and said, "Get out, I''m not doing it."

Philip paused for a moment, then continued to approach the young man, half-kneeling, and reached out to unbutton the young man''s loosely worn shirt.

"Get out," the young man repeated. His fingers flew across the screen, seemingly too busy to even spare a glance at the person beside him.

Philip, however, was not affected at all and continued his actions, ignoring the young man''s words.

Suddenly, the stimulation from below caused the young man''s hand to tremble, and his game character died. He finally threw his phone aside and looked coldly at the person in front of him.

After a moment, he sneered, his hand sliding down Philip''s back, and sarcastically said, "Looking for a fuck and still have to prepare yourself, being as cheap as you are, is one of a kind."

Philip heard this, raised his head, stared at the young man for a moment, and asked, "Are you in a bad mood today?"

The young man bared his teeth, "You should know, seeing you, my mood can never be good."

Philip silently lowered his eyes and, after a moment of silence, said in a low voice, "There''s no way around it, you might have to endure it, after all, you have to live with me like this."

The young man immediately frowned in disgust. The next second, he pushed Philip away, got out of bed with his shirt open, and left the bedroom with a chill—

It seemed he didn''t want to stay with this person for even half a second longer.

The door slammed shut with a thunderous sound, causing Philip''s heart to involuntarily skip a beat.

Moments later, he put on a bathrobe and came to the floor-to-ceiling window, just in time to see the young man going downstairs, getting into a sports car, and driving away.

"Mr. Howard, have someone follow him," Philip said to the butler who had just entered.

After the butler acknowledged and left, Philip bent down and silently picked up all the scattered condoms on the floor, returned to the bathroom, and cleaned up the lubricant.

After doing all this, Philip went to the study.

He had a lot of work to do. He was very busy, and the reason he came back tonight was that he hadn''t seen Patrick Spencer for several days and missed him.

But obviously, that person did not welcome him.

Rather than him coming back, Patrick might have preferred him to die outside.

Philip pressed his lips together, took the glasses from the side, and put them on, covering the fleeting sadness in his eyes.

Compared to his affection for that person, that person could be said to hate him to the core.

He couldn''t blame him.

After all, it was he who, after causing Patrick''s family to be ruined, used despicable means to forcibly keep him by his side.

You can''t expect someone to greet their enemy with a smile.

Philip adjusted his glasses, silently tidied up his low spirits, and focused all his attention on his work. However, two hours later, the door to the study was knocked on, and the butler walked in with an unnatural expression, hesitated, and called out, "…Young Master."

Philip looked up.

"Ms. Spencer, he…" the butler cleared his throat, avoiding Philip''s gaze, "…he took someone to the Serif Hotel from the bar again."

As soon as he finished speaking, Philip''s hand holding the pen tightened abruptly, the sharp metal tip piercing his palm. He didn''t speak, his eyes dark as he sat behind the desk, and after a long time, he lowered his eyes and responded.

Then, he stood up from the swivel chair, left the study, and called for a car to go to the Serif Hotel.

The Serif Hotel was a luxury hotel in the center of Maple City. Patrick taking someone there, the purpose was self-evident.

Upon arrival, the butler reported the information he had found to Philip, "Ms. Spencer is in room 1208, Young Master, do you want to go up?"

Philip stood outside the hotel, looking at the neon sign in front of him without moving. His face was hidden in the shadows, and no one could see his expression at the moment, but the surrounding atmosphere had clearly become very oppressive.

The butler, observing his nose and mouth, followed behind him without daring to make a sound.

At this time of year, it was already late autumn. The dew was heavy and cold in the latter half of the night, but Philip seemed to be frozen in place. Time passed by second by second, and after an unknown amount of time, Patrick finally strolled lazily out of the hotel entrance with a cigarette in his mouth.

Philip saw his figure, and his body, chilled by the cold wind, felt a slight warmth.

He moved his lips and looked at the obvious hickey on the neck of the person approaching, and softly asked, "Didn''t you say you didn''t want to do it?"

Patrick met Philip''s eyes, slowly blew a smoke ring at him, and then, with the cheap perfume scent he had picked up from someone else, leaned close to Philip and whispered in his ear, "I didn''t want to do it with you."

As he spoke, the corners of his mouth curled up maliciously, and he slowly added, "I''d rather pay for a gigolo than do it with you. How disgusting do you think you are?"