Chapter 5

The disturbance quickly woke Callie, and she immediately recognized Spencer from his familiar cologne. Uncle Spencer? Why was he suddenly kissing her? Callie froze in shock, and before she could react, she heard Spencer murmur in a hoarse voice with heated breath. "Tally…" At that moment, her entire body stiffened. The overwhelming smell of alcohol told her everything. Spencer had mistaken her for Talulah in his drunken state. While she was in a trance, Spencer's hands started to wander. Callie panicked and pressed down on the hand that was exploring her waist. She tried pushing him away and desperately said, "Uncle Spencer, you've got the wrong person! It's me, Callie!" Whether it was the alcohol clouding his judgment or her resistance sparking his dominance, Spencer's kiss grew more intense, his teeth grazing her soft lips. Callie could hardly breathe. Tears welled up in her eyes, soaking the bandages on her wounds and causing sharp, stinging pain. "You're hurting me, Uncle Spencer! My injury... It really hurts..." Spencer momentarily froze. Callie couldn't tell if it was because the alcohol was finally wearing off or her plea had broken through. When he released his grip on her, she hurriedly rolled to the side and fled. She didn't even bother to put on her slippers and sprinted barefoot into the living room, where she wrapped herself in a blanket on the couch and finally dozed off at dawn. The next afternoon, Callie opened her eyes and found Spencer standing before her with an unreadable expression. The events of the previous night rushed back to her, and she shrank into the corner of the couch. Spencer's eyes flickered with coldness at her reaction. "Did you bring me to your room last night?" Callie was stunned by the accusation. She was about to explain when she saw him frown again. "Don't ever do that again. Otherwise, you'll have to move out." His certainty struck her silent, and the words "You were drunk" stayed stuck in her throat. Given the misunderstanding from a stolen kiss before, Callie knew that no matter how much she explained, he wouldn't believe her anymore. So, she gave up trying and remained quiet. Then, out of the corner of her eye, Callie noticed his hand was raised slightly. She glanced up, wondering what he was doing. Spencer's hand stopped just above her head as if he were going to pat her. Callie's eyes widened in disbelief. When she was younger, whenever she was sad and crying from missing her parents, Spencer would pat her head and gently comfort her. It had become their unspoken signal. But ever since she turned 17, they hardly had any physical contact. Callie held her breath, tense with anticipation. The next second, however, Spencer's hand lifted higher, and he pulled a bottle of red wine from the cabinet behind her. It turned out she had read too much into it. Callie smiled bitterly at herself. Because of her rush to sell her belongings, all her family's assets, including the old mansion, had been sold for less than market value. Nonetheless, everything was finally disposed of. She managed to gather over 9 million dollars, still short by a few hundred grand of what she needed to repay Spencer. With little time left before her departure, raising the remaining amount was difficult. Callie was a painter. Although still a newcomer, she had won numerous awards and gained some recognition in the art field. Thus, she decided to hold an art exhibition to sell her work. Doing it alone would be hard in such a short period, so she turned to Spencer for help. When Talulah learned about it, she appeared surprised but then smiled and chimed in, "I'm also preparing for an art exhibition. How about we do it together?" Callie looked at Spencer. Seeing that he had no objections, she agreed. Five days later, their joint art exhibition was held at the gallery. Talulah, who had been learning painting for over ten years, was hosting her first major exhibition, and Spencer was particularly invested in it. He had secured the gallery's main hall for her and meticulously decorated it by using every resource he had to promote the event. As a result, on the day of the exhibition, the turnout of social elites and prominent figures shattered the gallery's previous attendance records. On the other hand, Callie's exhibition, which had been placed in a much smaller side hall, wasn't nearly as fortunate. The cramped space barely fit her nearly 100 paintings, leaving little room for movement. Hardly anyone entered, let alone purchased anything. Standing at the entrance, Callie watched the lively scene in the distance with a heart full of sorrow. A few friends were there to help, and they were just about to console her when a scream suddenly came from inside the room. "Callie, something's wrong!"