Chapter 342
This was the first time I’d ever seen Gregory wear such an expression.
It wasn’t exactly nervousness, excitement, or panic…But it was definitely a far cry from his usual defiant swagger.
In that moment, I couldn’t help but see shades of Bryant in him.
Suddenly, I became even more composed, almost cold–hearted, as I pushed down the surge of emotions that threatened to break free and turned around sharply.
“Go on,” I said calmly.
Gregory hadn’t hung up yet. He took a long stride toward me, wrapped me up in one arm, and held me tight, stopping me from breaking free despite my efforts.
He murmured a few words into the phone, “Careful not to get hoodwinked. I’ll be there once I’ve smoothed things over.”
Then, he ended the call and tossed his phone into his pocket. His hand cupped my cheek, squeezing it till my face was distorted, yet he spoke with a hint of resentment, “Why are you running? Did you even hear what I said earlier?”
“Let go of me.”
“…Pfft.”
Perhaps the sight of me trying to speak with my cheek pinched was somewhat comical, as he let out a snort of laughter and refused to let go, even giving my cheek an extra squeeze, “Answer me first. If I like your answer, I’ll let go.”
I slapped his hand away, forcing him to release me. I pursed my lips slightly, hiding my bitterness. “Gregory… Mr. Ford, I’m not like you. I don’t want to play games, and I can’t afford to.”
“Games?”
His expression changed slightly, his tongue clicking against his teeth in annoyance. “Do you really think I’m playing games with you?”
“Aren’t you?”
Snowflakes began to fall gently, and I shivered, wrapping my coat tighter around me. “Like you said, if there’s no news from Lilliana in the next few days, you’d stop waiting. But didn’t you just get a message? Yet, here you are questioning me. Do you think I’m the backup, or is she?”
In this scenario, the backup was clearly me.
In the past few days, Ramona and Molly had both tried to convince me otherwise, and I almost bought into it. But in this moment of clarity, I looked at Gregory, who seemed so untouchable.
With his background, plenty of well–to–do beauties were at his beck and call. I wasn’t even in the running.
The gap between us was even wider than it had been with Bryant.
Gregory reeked of alcohol, but his eyes were disturbingly sober. He smirked, his tone as dismissive as ever, “You think I’m Bryant?”
“I don’t know.”
It was too cold. I sniffled, wrapping my down jacket tighter and kicked a pebble, my voice soft. “All I know is, you’re both men, and the ones you really love are the ones who got away.”
And I was none of that.
Above me, Gregory was silent for a moment, then chuckled dismissively, “What if I told you I actually prefer the one I ran into?”
I paused, looking up in confusion, “Huh?”
“Don’t ‘huh‘ me.”
He flicked my forehead and handed me the box of late–night snacks, “I can’t promise much, Jane, but I’m definitely not Bryant. Now, head inside.”
“I don’t need your promises.”
I’d heard too many promises before.
I would never believe in such fleeting, intangible things again.
Promises only prove that at the moment they’re made, they might be sincere, like the sweetness of a fruit at the moment it falls from
the vine.
But with time, even just a day or two, washed by rain or scorched by the sun, they decay and rot.
10.59 1
The next day was Christmas Eve.
The Myers Mansion was filled with festive spirit, with a sparkling Christmas tree and every window adorned with decorative cutouts.
The butler was busy directing the staff in decorating.
It was a lively and joyful atmosphere.
As I came downstairs, Ramona waved at me energetically, “Jane, come quick, try the cheese board they just prepared.”
The old lady treated me well, sometimes so well that I found myself daydreaming of having a grandmother of my own.
