Reborn as Mr.CEO’s Fat Wife
Chapter 897: Square? You Really Think Highly of Yourself

Chapter 897: Chapter 897: Square? You Really Think Highly of Yourself

Dobbin Locke used to love Moll Scott as deeply as he now hated Mary Scott.

The intertwining of hatred and love morphed into an unspeakable obsession. Over the years, he never uttered the name Moll Scott, drifting among various women. He believed he was no longer the boy who was betrayed six years ago, but upon reuniting with Moll Scott, he realized some scars buried beneath the skin never truly heal.

He looked at the woman kneeling at his feet—her face adorned with deliberate coquettishness, but her eyes suppressed pain and disgust. A twisted thrill surged in his heart, transforming into uncontrollable physical excitement.

David Locke felt he must have gone insane to be distorted like this.

Yet even if he was twisted, even if he was mad, she was the one who drove him to this point. His hand grabbed Mary Scott’s long hair, tilting her entire face upward to meet his stare, "You hate me so much? Why resist? Is this the same look you had when you served other men?"

"You’re my benefactor; how could I dare refuse?" Mary Scott was forced to lift her head, sighing inwardly. She still remembered his high school self—handsome, sunny, with a touch of slovenly charm, undeniably the academic star adored secretly by all the girls. Now, the man before her was obsessive, unpredictable. Was it because of her?

Mary Scott inadvertently sighed softly. The disgust in her eyes faded, replaced by confusion and self-reproach. Her actions back then had ultimately hurt him. She reached out to steady the man’s legs, leaned forward under his grip, and kissed Dobbin Locke’s chin. The rebellious tone she had earlier disappeared, replaced by a gentle whisper against his lips, "I don’t refuse. As long as it’s you, I’m willing to do anything."

David Locke was still simmering with anger over Mary’s earlier remark—you’re my benefactor; how could I dare refuse. But then, she voluntarily came closer, kissing him while murmuring that she was willing to do anything as long as it was him.

The blaze in his heart was suddenly soothed, yet unwilling to let go, he grabbed Mary Scott’s chin, staring into her eyes as if searching for something. What he met was guilt, which instantly enraged him. Was she feeling guilty toward him? Yet his emotions were so easily swayed by her, and in a fit of frustration, he pinched her chin harder, demanding, "What are you trying to do?"

Mary Scott winced in pain. Her skin was already delicate, and the force of his pinch left a red mark instantly. It hurt so much that her brows furrowed. She couldn’t fathom why this man was both soft and hard to deal with, and she snapped, "What do I want? Of course, I want to serve you. Why, do you think I’m filthy again?"

She hadn’t called him filthy yet, and here he was, ready to judge her every time.

Because he held her chin tight, her anger seemed lacking in authority, imbued with a faint trace of softness.

David Locke pursed his lips silently, releasing her chin. His gaze flicked to the red mark caused by his grip but eventually settled on the scar below her collarbone. The scar had been there for a while, yet on her otherwise smooth, fair skin, it stood out abruptly—it looked like a burn mark. He had never noticed it before.

Mary Scott felt his gaze move downward before finally landing on the scar. She recalled that she was shooting a sporty clothing advertisement today, so the scar beneath her collarbone hadn’t been concealed deliberately. She had just showered again, and now his intense scrutiny made her uncomfortable. She took a small step backward, knowing how picky this man could be. Her voice turned dry, "If it bothers you, I’ll cover it up."

"How did it happen?" Dobbin Locke knew how pampered Moll Scott had been—spoiled by her family, temperamental yet charming. Even a mosquito bite could make her tearfully rush to the clinic. But the pronounced burn scar under her collarbone was sizable; he couldn’t even imagine her reaction at that time.

Mary Scott froze momentarily, not understanding Dobbin’s intent at first. After a moment of confusion, she realized he was asking about her scar. Though baffled over why he’d inquire about it now, she nonchalantly replied, "Accidental burn. Is it that unsightly? I’ll cover it up."

"How could it be accidental?" Dobbin Locke stared at the large burn scar. Could an accident really cause something that extensive? He tugged at Mary Scott’s nightgown, his gaze locked on the scar as if he could unravel its secrets.

Mary Scott was both embarrassed and annoyed by his actions, but she couldn’t tell him the truth—that it had been caused by an irate customer throwing hot coffee at her while she worked in M Kingdom. Instead, she barely managed a wry smile, "Just an accident."

She couldn’t quite understand him these days. If he wanted to proceed, he should just get on with it—why dredge up her past, making her mistakenly think he cared?

"Did it hurt?" Dobbin Locke stared at her placid expression, unable to reconcile her with the girl from six years ago—who’d fuss over a mere mosquito bite, worrying it might leave a mark, demanding top-quality ointment from the best pharmacy in Swallow City.

Unconsciously, he asked, "Did it hurt? Did it hurt when you were burned? Why did it scar? Wasn’t scarring the thing you feared most?"

Mary Scott felt agitated by his questioning. She’d been carefully restraining her emotions, yet he seemed intent on provoking her. Her tone grew harsh, "It’s been so long; how could it still hurt? Are we doing this or not?"

Chasing these thoughts would only lead to misunderstandings.

Dobbin Locke hesitated upon her blunt response. He stared at her for a moment, "Since you’re so eager—fine, let’s begin."

...

...

At seven in the morning, Mary Scott awoke thirsty. Turning her head, all she saw was a strikingly handsome face. But remembering his ruthless behavior the night before, she took a deep breath and carefully extracted her arm from his embrace.

After a quick wash, Mary Scott changed into her clothes. When she walked out, the damned man still had his eyes closed. She stole a deep look at him before limping toward the door.

As snow fell overnight, all of Rose Valley was blanketed in white. Leaving the cozy warmth of the villa, Mary Scott instinctively tightened her coat around herself. She moved forward, step by difficult step, her body aching as though cut with knives. For a fleeting moment, she understood the story she’d read as a child—the mermaid growing legs and dancing with the prince. Perhaps this was how it felt.

And remembering how the little mermaid later turned to foam, Mary Scott suddenly felt intensely sad, tears threatening to spill. She thought of herself as the unwanted little mermaid, devoid of love, stripped of her tail.

The more she thought, the sadder it felt. Cold wind lashed against her, intensifying her already mild cold into something worse. Her steps grew heavier still. Just then, she heard her name being called.

"Mary! Over here!"

Mary Scott thought she might be hallucinating. She instinctively looked around and saw a figure in a padded coat, wearing a white hat and matching scarf, running toward her. Mary, initially confused about who it might be, saw Catherine Ford standing in front of her, "Mary, what are you doing out so early? Why so lightly dressed?"

Today was lunar new year. Benjamin Jones had brought Catherine and Alice back to the Jones family home. Right at the gate, Catherine spotted a familiar-looking figure in the distance. Running over, she found it was indeed Mary Scott. Remembering yesterday’s news, Catherine became concerned.

"I... have a work appointment. You know how busy entertainers get around the new year." Mary Scott lowered her voice to lie. Though they had only met a few times, she could tell Catherine was a good person and didn’t want her to worry.

"You still need to wear warmer clothes." Catherine Ford frowned at Mary Scott’s thin woolen coat. Overnight snow had made the entire Swallow City bitterly cold.

"It’s fine. I’ll be in a car soon anyway." Though Mary Scott said this, she hadn’t actually managed to book a ride due to the heavy snow.

Catherine, thinking perhaps the car couldn’t enter the neighborhood, glanced towards Benjamin Jones holding Alice. She asked hesitantly, "Shall we give Mary a lift to the gate?"

"Your call." Benjamin Jones gave Mary Scott a brief glance. At Moon Lake Manor, he had been added to a group chat by the trust-fund heir Adam Piers, where Director Locke was also a member. Yesterday, Adam and Noel Roberts had teased Dobbin Locke for leaving an event abruptly, calling him a pervert, though Locke remained silent. Seeing Mary now, Benjamin could guess something happened between the two. He scooped Alice into the passenger seat, allowing Catherine to lead Mary into the car.

Mary Scott couldn’t refuse this kindness and thanked softly.

After their pleasant chat at Moon Lake Manor, the two had exchanged contact information. Now in the car, their conversation flowed naturally, especially with Alice keeping things lively.

Benjamin Jones, glancing at the rearview mirror, smirked at his partner enjoying the moment. Without stopping at the neighborhood gate, he changed course toward the nearest subway station out of politeness. Only as they arrived did he apologize, "Sorry, I forgot to stop earlier. Miss Scott, do you want us to drop you off somewhere else?"

"No, no need." Mary Scott, spotting the subway entrance, quickly masked up and bid farewell to Catherine and Alice.

As Mary left, Catherine leaned into Benjamin with a bright smile. "Lawyer Jones, you really are such a good man."

Benjamin Jones gave her a sidelong glance, "Good men deserve rewards. How do you plan to reward me?"

Catherine Ford blushed at his teasing, "Drive already!"

Benjamin chuckled, catching Alice peeking over curiously. Dropping the joking, he returned to the road.

...

Rose Valley.

Dobbin Locke woke to find the spot beside him cold and empty. Rising, his gaze lingered on the pale gray sheets before silently dialing a number, "Find out everything about Moll Scott from the past six years."

Last night’s rage had clouded his judgment, but as rationality returned, he realized how foolish he’d been. That kind of woman, proud as she was, wouldn’t do that sort of thing. Her response must have been out of spite.

But why?

He had seen her with someone back then...

Dobbin Locke took a deep breath, refusing to delve into that memory. Instead, he pulled out his phone and dialed Mary’s number, only to be met with the mechanical voice, "Sorry, the number you’re trying to reach is currently busy."

He tried again but got the same message.

Switching to Facebook, he sent a message asking where she was, only to see a red exclamation mark pop up—he’d been blocked!

Both her phone number and Facebook account had blocked him. Dobbin Locke stared at the red mark, nearly losing control. That woman always knew how to push his buttons.

He took a deep, calming breath, grabbed his clothes, and left the room, pulling out a second backup phone. When he dialed, the line was cut off immediately. This time, he bit his lip and edited a text, "Pick up the call."

Mary Scott had just arrived home. Spotting the message from him, she could already guess who sent it. Her body was still aching, her cold worsening. Seeing Dobbin Locke’s text, she exhaled sharply and replied, "We are square now. Don’t contact me again unless it’s about finalizing the divorce."

Dobbin Locke saw his phone light up with the notification, hurriedly checking only to be met with her rebuttal. He nearly smashed his phone in fury, struggling to contain himself, "Square? You clearly overestimate yourself."

Mary Scott fumed, "Fine! Then tell me how much I owe. Write it down and I’ll make sure to pay you back."

If she went through last night a few more times, her life might just be over.

"You don’t make the rules."

Mary Scott saw his reply, her legs trembling slightly. Seething, she typed, "Dobbin Locke, stop dreaming! I will never entertain you again. A man as pathetic as you shouldn’t even get to call it a sex life!"

She realized her heated words might have been overboard and hastily deleted them, but it was too late—his response came almost immediately, "I saw it."

Mary Scott: "..."

"So what if you saw it? I’m just stating the facts. Even a toy is better than you." Mary Scott, remembering his true nature from last night, disregarded all propriety. They were done, after all.

Dobbin Locke stared at the screen for a long moment, inhaling deeply before painstakingly typing his reply, "You better remember those words."

Sending the message, he threw his phone aside and slammed the gas pedal, directing his car towards the address Mary had shared yesterday.

He wanted to see if she dared to say such things to his face!

......