William's POV:
The four of us sat at the table in awkward silence. Finally, I decided to chase away the tension in the air and picked up my glass.
"Scarlett, I was impressed by your professionalism and performance in the interview last time. I watched the program, and I was very satisfied with it. Here's to you."
Before Scarlett could raise her glass, Charles interjected. "Scarlett hasn't been drinking lately. But I'll drink on her behalf."
I raised my eyebrows and looked at Scarlett. Somehow, I felt that there was something off and unnatural about her today. I shrugged and emptied my wine glass.
I took a glance at Rita again. She seemed restless, and her face was pale. Feeling sorry for her, I could not help saying, "Charles, maybe you and I should exchange seats so that you could keep a closer eye on Rita."
"No."
"Yes."
Charles and Scarlett answered at the same time. It was Charles who did not agree to my suggestion. He narrowed his eyes at me as if telling me to mind my own business.
I cleared my throat, smiled awkwardly, and said nothing.
At this time, Rita raised her hand and put it over her chest. A muscle flickered in her jaw, and she furrowed her brows. The look of pain on her face was terrible to watch. I instantly got nervous. "Rita? What's wrong? Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?"
Rita pushed away my hand and bit her bloodless lip. She flashed Charles a pitiful look. "Charles, can you take me to the hospital? I don't feel well." Seeing Rita beg like that made my heart ache. She did not have to beg anyone to take care of her. She was a wonderful person. She deserved to be taken care of.
I was extremely disappointed by Charles's attitude toward Rita, but I was in no position to tell him off about it.
Ignoring Rita's sincere request, Charles rose from his seat and stepped out to make a phone call. When he returned to the table, he started serving Scarlett food as if nothing happened.
I was confused by everyone's behavior.
Less than ten minutes later, a strong-looking, well-built man stormed in. He was panting, and beads of sweat covered his forehead. He looked like he ran all the way here. He looked more like Rita's fiance than Charles did.
Rita's facial expression changed from pained to unhappy when she saw the newcomer. She lowered her head as the man approached our table, and before he could say anything, Rita snapped, "I'm fine. You can leave now."
Then, she started to eat without even looking at him.
Suddenly, she retched. I was startled. "Rita, are you really okay? Maybe we should take you to
the hospital."
Rita shook her head and retched again. Then, she rushed to the bathroom.
The brawny man followed her.
Charles, Scarlett, and I were left at the table. I refilled my glass with wine, took a sip, and carefully calculated the next words that I was going to say. I finally went with, "Rita's pregnant, isn't she?"
Not even a shadow of a reaction passed over Charles's face. I could not decide if that was impressive or wildly insensitive.
"You should go check on Rita, Charles," Scarlett urged, but she looked a little disappointed.
"Even you think the baby in Rita's belly is mine?" Charles muttered.
Lowering her head, Scarlett replied, "Isn't it yours?"
Charles scoffed and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.
I eyed the two of them carefully for a few moments and then asked Charles, "So what's your relationship with Rita?"
"Rita and I have no relationship," Charles answered. There was a trace of anger in his tone.
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