Let Me Go, Mr. Howard Chapter 70

After high school, Adele had been living in Aquilonia, making her sudden appearance in MRK's Comprehensive Design Department quite strange.

Except for the first branch, Scarlett didn't get long with the Seymour family.

"Why are you here?" Scarlett glanced at the expensive coffee cups everyone was enjoying—clearly Adele's treat at about ten dollars each.

"Dad said I should work here. I came today to get familiar with the environment," Adele smiled. "I'm quite surprised to see you here. Never thought you'd manage to land a position."

Scarlett remembered that Adele had studied arts abroad. Getting her placed in MRK's design department must have required considerable effort from the third branch of the Seymour family.

"Is that so? Congratulations in advance, then." Scarlett turned to leave, not wanting to waste words with her.

"You should congratulate me," Adele called after her. "Starting tomorrow, I'll be the general manager of this department."

Scarlett turned back to see Adele's smug expression. "I'm sorry, but it looks like I've beaten you on this one."

Though unbothered by the boasting, Scarlett found it strange that MRK kept welcoming Seymour family members. 

Her own situation was unique—she barely claimed the Seymour name—but Adele was genuinely part of the family. 

With the Seymour and Howard families now joined through marriage, why would the Watson family so openly bring Seymours into their company, offering excellent positions from the start? Could the Watson and Howard families be rekindling their relationship?

Unable to make sense of it or prevent Adele from joining MRK, Scarlett returned to her company-provided apartment only to discover it had been completely emptied.

"Ms. Seymour, I'm Teddy Parker," greeted an unfamiliar man standing at her door. "All your belongings have been sent back to the villa."

A profound sense of helplessness washed over her. "I understand," she sighed softly.

Teddy drove her back to Windchime Villa. When they arrived, another vehicle was already parked in the driveway—a Maybach. Unmistakably Sebastian's car. 

Scarlett gave it only a passing glance.

Politely declining Libbie's dinner invitation, she just wanted to go upstairs and rest. But when she tried to open her second-floor room, she remembered she had been moved to the third floor.

Not wanting to run into Sebastian upstairs, Scarlett decided to get something to eat first. 

However, just as she emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate of pasta, she came face to face with Sebastian, who was leaving his study.

"Come upstairs after you eat," he said before heading up the stairs.

Watching him go, Scarlett deliberately slowed her eating pace, twirling the pasta strand by strand. What should have taken ten minutes stretched into twenty-five, with her plate still half full.

"Ms. Seymour," Libbie approached with a troubled expression after receiving a call, "Mr. Howard says you should bring your food upstairs."

Scarlett's methodical pasta-counting came to an abrupt halt. In the end, she reluctantly carried her half-eaten plate upstairs because Sebastian had threatened to come down if she didn't go up. 

Having witnessed his intensity before, she feared he might cause a scene downstairs.

On the third floor, Sebastian sat in a dark walnut armchair in the tea room, his eyes meeting hers as she entered.

"Eat here," he said, pointing to the table in front of him.

Scarlett pouted but obediently sat down.

"When you're done, tell me how many pasta strands there are," he said as she barely touched her fork to the food.

She continued eating as before, though the pasta had absorbed all the sauce and moisture, becoming unpleasantly dry. 

After just three bites, she was ready to give up. "I was wrong," she admitted.

Sebastian kept his teacup near his lips. "What exactly were you wrong about?"

"I shouldn't have tried to outsmart you," she replied, quickly finishing the remaining pasta.

"What else?" Sebastian took a sip of tea, raising an eyebrow as he placed his cup on the table.

Scarlett frowned, thinking he was just trying to provoke her. "Nothing else."

"Then what about the $31,999?" he prompted.

"That's for the car," she replied confidently, looking directly at him. "The car you gave me this morning—consider it as if you bought it for me. I've paid you, so we're even."

Though her reasoning seemed clear, tension was visible in her expression.

Sebastian's fingers lightly tapped the armrest. "'Even'?" he repeated the word as if he'd heard a joke.

Scarlett pressed her lips together, saying nothing.

Sebastian stood and approached her, causing her to watch him warily. "You think we can be 'even'?" His expression darkened as he placed his hands on the armrests of her chair, trapping her.

The proximity was something they hadn't experienced in a long time. 

Scarlett instinctively tried to lean back, but she was already pressed against the chair with nowhere to retreat. This exposed position made her feel deeply vulnerable.

She reflexively tried to draw up her legs, but the movement only brought her closer to Sebastian. Her knees brushed against his calves as she raised them, approaching a critical point.

Sebastian's somber expression faltered momentarily before he reached down and firmly gripped her restless leg, applying slight pressure to push her knee back toward her.

"Is this what you call being 'even'?"