The scenery along the way felt familiar yet oddly strange. Riding the cold wind, raindrops thundered on the car window. Rosella Krueger looked out, both fearful and curious.
Many things had changed, and so had she.
Three years had passed. The face reflected in the window was no longer plump. Due to years of malnutrition, Rosella’s face had grown gaunt and pale, with freckles across the bridge of her nose.
“How have you been these years?” The man sitting next to her kept his face in the shadows, gently rubbing his shirt button. His tone was more like interrogating a criminal than asking a question.
Rosella’s dry hair, the frostbite on her earlobes, and her cheap clothes had spoken for her.
She tugged at a fuzzball on her old sweater’s sleeve and replied uneasily, “Quite well.”
“You sure do,” Dewey Rowe sighed. “After all, you’re still alive, but someone died because of you.”
“…I’m sorry.”
If her old acquaintances saw how miserable she was now, they’d probably think she brought it on herself.
She had messed with the man who never let go of a grudge, even getting his beloved killed.
Last
The car stopped outside the Rowe’s mansion.
The chauffeur held up an umbrella and opened the car door, shielding Rosella as she got out. Dewey walked ahead and stepped straight through the gates, one hand in his pocket.
Rosella followed carefully behind him. The air, the bricks, and the flowers here were all so familiar. She had lived in this place for nineteen years, but it felt like a long time ago now.
The rain kept falling, tapping noisily against the umbrella with the heavy thud of approaching footsteps.
Head lowered, Rosella didn’t notice.
Up ahead, Dewey suddenly stopped. “Millard.”
Millard Dunn held a black umbrella. Though he smiled, his eyes were cold and distant. Since the incident three years ago, he had become silent and withdrawn. After he gave a hmm, his gaze moved past Dewey.
Hearing that name again, Rosella thought she would be thrilled, but she wasn’t.
She didn’t feel even a flicker of tension.
Having experienced disappointment and despair, she felt oddly calm. And then, a cold and barely perceptible gaze brushed past her.
It was Millard.
In the misty rain, the two men stood–one elegant and aloof, the other striking yet brooding. In terms of background, looks, intellect, and character, they were evenly matched. These two childhood best friends would become the center of attention wherever they were.
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J
06:43
Chapter 1
288 Vouchers
Once, one of them had been her blood brother; the other, the man she was obsessed with.
Now, they both saw her as enemies.
Her hand trembled, and the umbrella tilted a bit. Hidden under it, Rosella greeted politely, “Mr. Dunn.”
Back when she was still the proud Ms. Rowe, she would address Millard in a more affectionate way. But now, it was just Mr. Dunn, respectful yet distant.
“When did she get back?” Millard’s voice sounded icy in the cold rain.
Dewey replied with faint amusement, “Heard her biological father fell into the river and drowned, so we brought her back. What a jinx. Who knows who’ll end up dead this time?”
He glanced at Millard and chuckled, “Better watch out, man. She might just end up latched onto you again.”
Yeah, she’d once been all over Millard, obsessed in the worst way- learning his favorite things, keeping the cigarettes he’d touched, and creating all kinds of “coincidences” just to stay in his orbit.
Everyone in their circle knew she liked Millard, and that he couldn’t stand her.
That was why he refused to help her after her birth origin was exposed and used every means possible to ruin her and nearly got her killed.
Dewey’s hatred for her was second only to Millard.
His eyes, sharp and ruthless, bored into her through the umbrella. “Oh?” he said. “Are you sure?”
