Chapter 14
Then I heard Penelope’s sweet voice on the other end of the line.
“Drake, I’m craving your spicy chicken tonight.”
Drake replied gently, and without another word, hung up on me.
I chuckled coldly, staring out at the private island in front of me, lost in thought.
I remembered a time when I’d had too much to drink at a business dinner and ended up with acute gastritis. I barely made it home, exhausted, and when I saw Drake, all my defenses crumbled. I collapsed into his
arms.
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But he just frowned slightly, helped me to the sofa, and subtly took a few steps back.
“Why did you drink so much? You reek of alcohol.”
My lips were pale, and tears welled in my eyes.
“Drake, my stomach hurts… it hurts so bad. Can you please call the family doctor?”
Drake glanced at his watch.
“It’s late, Eloise. It’s not the first time this has happened. Don’t bother the doctor over something this minor. There’s still some of the medicine left from last time. I’ll get it for you!”
He poured me a glass of warm water, tested the temperature, and handed it to me. Then
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he gently broke the pill in half and fed it to
- me.
I tugged at his sleeve with a faint smile.
“I’m hungry… I want your porridge.”
He brushed the hair from my forehead and spoke softly.
“It’s too late, Eloise. I’ve got an important meeting early tomorrow. I’ll order you something instead–how about the most expensive bird’s nest congee from Nook & Nourish?”
Back then, I thought–I didn’t need him to do anything grand. Just this–caring for me, staying by my side–was enough.
But now, I feel like such a fool. I never realized his love for me had been fading all
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along.
I moved my fingers slightly and added Drake’s number to my blocked list.
A few minutes later, I got a message from Drake on Facebook:
“Eloise, this is the gown for the gala the day after tomorrow. I picked it just for you- you’re gonna love it.”
The photo showed a champagne–colored mermaid dress. Clearly expensive.
But I didn’t like it. Not one bit.
I’ve always loved bold reds–the louder, the better.
But Drake always said I shouldn’t be so flashy. That I should be elegant and poised-
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fit for Mrs. Sullivan.
Well, not my problem anymore. I’m free now.
I deleted our entire Facebook chat history and blocked him, then contacted one of the world’s top designers to create a custom vintage–inspired red dress just for me.
The next second, a notification popped up on my feed.
It was a tagged post–from Penelope.
“Drake really has no sense when it comes to money. He insisted on picking out dozens of couture pieces to stuff my walk–in closet. Such a shame this champagne mermaid gown has such a tiny bust–guess he had to toss it!‘
She’d posted it with a photo of herself
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holding that dress, making some exaggerated, fake–disgusted face.
I actually laughed. Was all this drama really necessary? She looked like a clown trying way too hard.
Deleted her too.
Let the clowns stay locked in their circus- far away from me.
