Chapter 4
Rosella didn’t feel embarrassed. She bit her crimson lips and shot back at him, “Well, you always avoid me, so I have no choice but to wait here.”
“I’m avoiding you. Don’t you know what that means?”
Back then, she was so naïve. She actually shook her head.
Millard, keeping up the bare minimum of gentlemanly restraint, explained plainly, “It means I don’t want to see you.”
“You can pretend not to see me, but I still want to look at you… even if just for a second.” Rosella had to admire her ability to swallow up her own pride. Even with Millard’s face so cold and dark, she still managed to act coy. “Millard, I really missed you. Didn’t you miss me at all?”
Now, returning to the same place, she found it had been renovated. The second–floor seat was gone. The days of chasing glimpses of Millard from there were gone too.
Dewey didn’t go into the private room with Rosella. It was empty, with no food or drinks.
“You wait here. Someone will come to see you soon.”
Rosella pursed her lips and stood still, catching a sly glint in Dewey’s eyes. She nodded and sat down without asking a single question.
But the person Dewey mentioned never came. Day turned to dusk in the blink of an eye.
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Chapter 4
288 Vouchers
Customers came and went. At dusk, Dewey finally called, pointing her to another location.
Rosella glanced at the address. It was one of Millard’s private clubs.
At sunset, it started to rain. Rain streaked down the windows of the private room with the clearest view. Millard stood by the glass, and with just a glance downward, he saw her frail figure running toward the entrance.
Rosella hadn’t brought an umbrella. Her shoulders were soaked through, and some wet hair clung to her temples. Arms wrapped around herself, she stood at the club’s door. She tried to enter, but the security guards blocked her. Rosella tried calling Dewey, but the line never went through.
Cold rain and wind soaked her to the bone. She trembled uncontrollably.
Upstairs, someone was enjoying the show. Dewey walked to the window, glanced down coldly, and said, “Let’s see how long she can keep this act up.”
Two cold silhouettes reflected on the window glass. Millard swirled the liquor in his glass. “Did she really wait all day?”
“Absolutely.” Dewey had arranged for surveillance. “My family arranges a marriage for her with the youngest son of the Freeman family. They’re supposed to meet today. You know Elliot Freeman— classic rich brat. His family agreed to pay back a favor, but Elliot refused to even show up.”
Mollie had gone to great lengths for this impostor.
Dewey couldn’t understand it. Back when Rosella’s true identity hadn’t been revealed, it made sense that Mollie doted on her. But even after the blood tie was gone, Mollie still treated her like a daughter.
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Chapter 4
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After sending Rosella away three years ago, Mollie cried every day. At her worst, Mollie even fell into depression.
Millard downed his drink. The burn made his voice deeper, rougher. “Elliot is right next door?”
Dewey replied, “Yeah. Probably partying with a crowd again.”
“Go tell him.”
“Huh?”
Millard’s face was cast in shadow, his expression unreadable. He brushed his finger along the rim of the glass. Dewey didn’t get it. “If he goes down, that imposter will get cocky again.”
“He won’t go down,” Millard said with certainty. But he would send
someone.
What was so amusing about watching someone stand in the rain?
The real show was just getting started.
Dewey stepped out, leaving Millard alone in the room. He leaned by the window, flicked open a metal lighter, and lit a cigarette. As he looked down again, what he saw stupefied him.
Downstairs.
Rosella had stepped off the steps. She reached out carefully, letting rainwater pool in her palm. Then, she brought it to her lips and sipped
- it.
The sight reminded Millard of a filthy white stray cat licking dirty water from the roadside.
But he wouldn’t help her.
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Chapter 4
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Beneath that soft fur, Rosella had fangs and claws sharp enough to wound. Millard had learned that the hard way. He wouldn’t be softhearted again. Still, the shock in his chest couldn’t be denied.
After Rosella swallowed that mouthful of rain, the door behind her opened. But it wasn’t Dewey who stepped out. Nor was it the promising Elliot Mollie had spoken of.
It was a group of people, and Rosella recognized the woman leading them. They’d clashed before.
Well, “clash” might be too strong. It was at a violin competition. Rosella had beaten her. The girl had cried backstage, and Rosella had scolded her in front of everyone, “What is this, kindergarten? Can’t win first place so you cry and wait for someone to give you candy?”
Now, the tables had turned.
The woman stopped in front of her, arms crossed, eyes scanning her from head to toe with contempt. “Well, well… look who it is.”
