This was different from last time.
After being locked in the storage room previously, Phoebe had made a conscious effort to overcome her claustrophobia.
She forced herself into a closed room for a few minutes every day, having Mrs. Lennox open the door only when she couldn't take it anymore.
She could only manage about thirty seconds in a confined space on her own.
But that was still a massive improvement.
Coupled with the fact that she was sharing the elevator with Jaxson, her nerves were already frayed to the breaking point.
However, the elevator was much smaller and more airtight than the storage closet. The cold sweat dripping from her forehead rubbed off completely onto his tailored suit.
Jaxson murmured, "Don't panic. I've called for help. They'll be here soon."
"Phoebe, talk to me! Are you okay?"
She heaved for breath, but her lungs refused to take in enough oxygen.
Her limbs went completely numb.
Yet, her mind remained clear.
When she realized he was cupping her face, leaning in as if to kiss her, she instinctively turned her head, causing what was meant to be a breath of life to land against her cheek.
With her face averted, she protested, "Mr. Hayes, that's not necessary."
"I'm perfectly fine. My husband would get the wrong idea if you did that."
She sounded deeply wronged.
"Mr. Hayes, I love my husband very much. Please don't ruin my marriage. I'm begging you."
Whether from suffocation or sheer terror, her warm tears fell onto his fingers, dropping endlessly like shattered pearls.
Her stunning eyes were rimmed with red as she looked at him with a mix of defiance and utter devastation.
She looked like a delicate, dew-kissed flower trembling in a storm.
Compared to her younger self, she had lost some of her innocence but gained a captivating allure.
And it was exactly that intoxicating appeal that left Jaxson caught between a rock and a hard place.
He let out a harsh, cynical laugh and squeezed his eyes shut.
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