The woman, observing his demeanor, cautiously remarked, “You seem like a respectable person. Are you Miss Brown’s boyfriend? Miss Brown shouldn’t have let you get away.”
Without offering a response, Marcus walked away, clutching the letter.
A week later, he received a package containing a small, familiar velvet box.
Upon opening it, he discovered a diamond bracelet- a piece he had given Melissa earlier.
Although he had claimed it to be a sample from a partner, it was, in fact, a unique creation by a renowned designer he had personally commissioned. Valued at 12 million dollars, Melissa had sold it for a mere 800 thousand.
Marcus stared at it for a prolonged moment, and then dialed a number, demanding, “Where is she?”
Exactly one minute later, Marcus received a message.
The message contained an address located in a small town next to Duefron, along with information detailing Melissa’s experiences and social connections.
At the very end of the message was a photo of Melissa with a slim young man.
The young man seemed to be around 23 or 24 years-old, with a somewhat pale complexion and a melancholic gaze.
Ah, the boyfriend suffering from an illness!
She had sold the bracelet he gave to her for $800, 000, possibly to pay for her boyfriend’s treatment. Did this mean that in her eyes, Marcus meant nothing to her?
The care and companionship she provided him with were merely an act?
Marcus, born into nobility, never really took women seriously. Now, the first time he developed genuine feelings for a woman, it turned out she had only been stringing him along. How could someone as proud as him endure such a betrayal?
He sat in his room in pensive silence.
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The phone was thrown aside, and the bracelet was tossed into the trash can.
He thought he’d never find her again.
But if fate ever brought them together again, he would definitely make her regret for the way she treated him.
Just then, a light knock on the door broke the silence. “Marcus?”
Marcus looked up, only to find that it was his father, Waylen, at the door. “Hey, Dad.”
Waylen smiled at his son faintly.
Sitting down across from his son, he observed the latter’s unhappy expression and mentioned lightheartedly, “You moved out a while back.
Why do you keep coming home so often this week?”
Marcus pretended to be unfazed and retorted, “Dad, didn’t you want me to visit often?”