Chapter 90
At this moment, Miguel felt as if even breathing was a struggle.
It took him a great deal of effort to finally find his voice: “No…
it’s not your fault, it’s mine. I shouldn’t have let you
misunderstand without explaining, and instead, I even
deliberately misled you.”
It was as if his heart were entwined by thorny vines, piercing
him until he bled.
“But Ms. Drayton,” he said bitterly, “not everything I told you
tonight was a lie.”
Kaneeta said softly, “Thank you, but it doesn’t matter anymore.”
With that, she hung up the phone.
Miguel stared at the phone screen as it gradually dimmed, pain
filling his eyes.
Just moments ago, he had still been looking forward to their
date tomorrow, still hoping she would come to his art exhibition
in a while.
He had forgotten that all of this was nothing more than
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something he had stolen.
And things that are stolen are destined not to last.
After Kaneeta hung up, the glow of the phone screen reflected
off her pale cheek.
The warm light in the living room fell on the cashmere sofa, but
it could not dispel the chill from her fingertips.
Her true fiancé was Woodrow.
That name circled in her mind, accompanied by the memory of
his hurried departure last night and her grandmother’s urgent
words about a matter that “must not be made public.”
“Neeta?” Regina, seeing her standing there in a daze, gently
tugged her hand. “Don’t worry too much about Woodrow. He’s
the heir to the Hartwell family. The Hartwell family would
never let anything happen to him.“”
Kaneeta nodded, but something in her heart felt tightly
clenched.
This unease was unusual–after all, Woodrow had only gone
abroad for some urgent matter.
Kaneeta tried to reassure herself that perhaps he was just
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handling some business, since the Hartwell family’s enterprises
spanned the globe.
Back in her bedroom, Kaneeta took out her phone, feeling a
strong urge to contact Woodrow, but afraid of disturbing him,
she gave up.
Outside, the night deepened, and moonlight streamed through
the window, falling onto her phone.
Just then, her phone rang again–this time, it was a foreign
number. Kaneeta hesitated for a moment, but answered.
“Hello?”
There was a few seconds of silence on the other end, then a
familiar but clearly exhausted male voice came through, with
static and faint foreign voices in the background: “Ms.
Drayton?”
It was Woodrow.
Kaneeta’s heart skipped a beat, her fingers tightening around
the phone: “…Mr. Hartwell?”
“It’s me.” His voice was hoarser than usual, but still carried its
unmistakable steadiness.
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J
“Where are you now? Are you alright? I heard you… had to go
abroad for something.”
Perhaps because her tone was so anxious and worried,
Woodrow paused for a moment, then chuckled: “I’m fine, don’t
worry.”
Kaneeta said nothing.
Woodrow spoke again, his tone carrying a barely perceptible
note of reassurance: “It’s just a small matter. Once it’s handled,
I’ll be back!”
Before he finished speaking, a sudden scream sounded on his
end. Kaneeta’s heart leapt, and she quickly asked, “What
happened?”
“It’s nothing,” Woodrow replied calmly. “A pig squealing.”
Kaneeta: “?”
Wasn’t that answer a bit too absurd?
“Alright, something urgent just came up here, I have to go,”
Woodrow said. “Ms. Drayton, I’m glad I got to talk to you for a
while.”
Outside the window, the moonlight seemed even brighter,
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illuminating the emotions gradually becoming clear in
Kaneeta’s eyes.
