“Lena, mark my words — one day you’ll beg me for help!”
And now… I really had to ask him for help.
I dialed the phone, mentally preparing my excuses.
But when Jason’s deep, magnetic voice came through the line,
I froze.
“Lena, I saw what happened. Are you okay?”
I had expected him to mock me like the other rich heirs would.
After all, we had what could be called “deep grudges.”
“How are you feeling? Are you holding up?”
I hadn’t expected his concern.
For a moment, I couldn’t even speak.
He grew more anxious.
“Damn it. I’m in the States right now, I can’t fly back immediately.
Don’t do anything rash — I already sent my assistant to find you.
Tell them whatever you need.”
“And I found out everything about that publisher.
I’ll have that woman fired today.”
For the first time since this mess began, my nose stung and my eyes watered.
No matter how strong I acted,
being publicly humiliated and shamed still hurt.
Slut-shaming was like a spear that stabbed deeper every time someone mentioned it.
Jason heard my soft sob and fell silent for a long time.
“Lena.”
“Let’s get married.”
“What?”
I thought I misheard.
“Jason Ford, are you out of your mind?”
“I’m serious. You’re in the middle of a storm.