Chapter 3

I froze where I stood.

A chill crept up my spine, bit by bit.

The man seemed to be smiling.

“When I had the place done up, I did it to Michelle's taste. All the things you girls like.”

So he still remembered this home was decorated the way I liked it.

But he also remembered how badly Sylvia had once hurt me.

And now he'd brought her here himself, walked her right through that door.

I drew in a breath, steadied myself, and stepped out.

Sylvia, who'd been looking around, spotted me first. Her expression shifted, and she came toward me at once.

“Micky, I'm sorry. You were so angry on the phone earlier, I figured I just had to come, so I……”

I stepped back, out of her reach.

And looked coldly at Francis, who was holding a big bag.

“What did you bring her here for?”

He didn't rush to answer. First he pulled a brand-new pair of women's slippers from the bag and set them on the floor, then waved Sylvia over.

Only then did I see the bag was full of toiletries and household things.

He didn't answer my question until Sylvia had put the slippers on.

“Sylvie already said it, didn't she? She came to apologize.”

“She even took tomorrow off for this. She wants to use the chance to clear the air with you properly.”

Then he came over, patted my shoulder, a note of reproach in his voice.

“And you—best friends for that many years. Some things you really ought to let go of.”

I pressed my lips together and said nothing.

I just went back into the room and started packing.

He walked in, frowning.

“What are you doing?”

“Something came up at work. I'm going in for overtime.”

His frown deepened.

“Overtime for what? Isn't your project basically done, just the wrap-up left? Did something go wrong?”

For a long time now, he'd grown used to me passing along the various things happening at headquarters, picking up fresh information from it and adjusting his own work direction accordingly.

So without thinking, his voice carried a certain hunger to know.

“Sorry. I'm under no obligation to tell you.”

He blanked for a couple of seconds, then caught on fast.

“Michelle, are you really this petty? She's come all the way here to apologize. You can't seriously throw her out.”

My face stayed blank.

“It's your apartment. You can have anyone here you want. I've no right to say otherwise.”

My name was never on this place to begin with, and I hadn't put a cent toward the renovations.

The design fee I'd done for him back then had just covered this year's rent for living here.

“So what do you mean, leaving me alone here with her?”

His arm shot out and blocked me, and by now there was real anger in his face.

I looked up at him.

“You two seem to get along just fine.”

“Michelle!”

His voice jumped sharply.

“Sylvie schemed her way close to me, and wasn't it all for your sake? I'm willing to bring her back, and isn't that for your sake too?”

“Do you really have to think the worst of everyone?”

From outside came the sound of Sylvia knocking.

“Micky, Francis, are you two all right in there?”

No one answered.

He caught himself losing his composure, took a deep breath, and softened his tone.

“She's good at her job, and everyone likes her. She gave me a lot of support on this project.”

“Once you transfer over, getting to know her again wouldn't hurt you either.”

“Besides, I've already taken you to meet my parents, and I mean for us to settle down and marry within the year……even if you don't trust her, don't you trust me?”

I met his eyes.

“I only trust myself.”

With that, I pushed my suitcase past him and headed for the door.

The door opened, and there stood Sylvia a short way off, eyes red, the innocent, wounded look pitched just right on her face.

“Micky, do you really not want to see me that much?”

My steps paused. I looked straight at her.

“Come to think of it, there's something I've always wondered about.”

“Didn't you marry my ex back then? He always wanted a wife who'd stay home. You ran off to this city to work, and he had no problem with that?”

Standing beside me, Francis was clearly taken aback.

“Sylvie, you're married?”

Sylvia's face went dark, then pale.

The eyes that had been so “sweet and lively” a moment ago couldn't quite manage a smile now.

But she pulled herself together fast, bit her lower lip, and put on the look of someone about to cry.

“We're divorced.”

It didn't surprise me in the least.

My gaze just settled lightly on the luggage on the couch.

That was Sylvia's.

Through the half-open zipper, a piece of pink lace lingerie showed.

I smiled.

His gaze followed mine.

Then his breath caught.

I had no intention of admiring whatever colorful thing was happening on his face. I simply turned and started walking out again.

Behind me, Sylvia's voice grew more aggrieved, trying to keep me there.

“Micky, don't go, please? I only wanted to talk——”

I cut her off.

“I'm leaving the place to you. You two have a good long talk tonight.”

The moment I opened the door, his furious roar rang out behind me.

“Michelle, if you dare walk out that door, don't you ever come back.”

I didn't turn around. My voice was certain.

“Fine.”