NovelEnglishAfter that fateful day, when reason eluded him, he implored Jazlyn to arrange for the apartment to be cleansed. Subsequently, he threw himself into his work with unwavering determination. Socializing with clients and spending time with Roscoe and his comrades became a regular affair. Yet, he never reached out to Rena again, nor did he deliberately seek information about her.
Not a single soul dared utter Rena’s name in his presence.
It seemed that Rena had become a forbidden topic, a secret locked away within his heart.
He chuckled wryly, finding little concern in the fact that his friends refrained from mentioning her as well…
The passage of time—two weeks to be exact.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtJazlyn entered Waylen’s office, bearing news of utmost importance.
“Mr. Fowler,” she began, her voice hushed, “at last week’s auction held by the esteemed Christiy’s Auction House in Hondrau… there was something of significance related to you.”
Waylen ceased his signature on the document, his attention piqued.
“What is it?” he inquired, his curiosity piqued.
Jazlyn continued in a subdued tone, “They put up for auction a collection of jewelry and couture dresses… all items once bestowed upon Miss Gordon by your hand. Moreover, the piano fetched a staggering sum of 60 million dollars.”
Engrossed in his reading, Waylen posed a seemingly indifferent question, “Why would Rena require such a substantial amount of money?”
Jazlyn responded, “Miss Gordon has actually donated every penny to a charitable foundation.”
In a fit of restrained anger, Waylen snapped the pen in his hand, fracturing it in two.
His voice, now cold and detached, seeped out, “She spent six months with me, only to take away a mere dog?”
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A soft sigh escaped Jazlyn’s lips, bearing witness to the complexity of emotions in the air.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmShe placed another sizable envelope upon Waylen’s desk and continued, “I retrieved this from the mailbox of your apartment the other day. It contains Miss Gordon’s expenditure records and receipts from the sellers.
Mr. Fowler, perhaps clarity will find you once you peruse its contents.”
Waylen’s fists clenched with barely contained fury.
After an eternity of hesitation, he finally succumbed to his curiosity and opened the envelope.
Indeed, it contained a bill—an account of Valentine’s Day arrangements, accompanied by several meticulously crafted design sketches.
They exuded excellence, exquisitely tailored to reflect Waylen’s affinity for the enigmatic allure of the color black.
As he continued reading, he found that Rena had paid with her own money.
Waylen looked at the bill quietly. His heart suddenly skipped a beat, and the familiar pain swept towards him again…
In a hushed voice, Jazlyn whispered, “Miss Gordon’s love for you knows no bounds, Mr. Fowler… You may not be aware but she made a promise to your father to study in Flirean for two years, solely to alleviate your burden in dealing with Miss Coleman’s affairs. You two once shared an unbreakable bond. I must ask, if you hadn’t gone to the hospital, would Miss Coleman truly have perished? Or do you still find yourself entangled in thoughts of your first love?”
Jazlyn’s words gave way to sorrowful sobs. “I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have uttered those words.”
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