Devil's Prisoner of Love by Prefer

Chapter 450: The Wrong Suitcase New York.

Aurora and Asher spent the evening playfully bickering, as if thad rewound to the past.

But Asher knew that sthings could never go back to how they once were. Aurora had grown more cheerful, a transformation that had nothing to do with him-it was all because of Julian.

That man had truly taken good care of her. He had opened her heart, helped her walk out of her painful memories, and freed her from the obsession with revenge.

The Aurora of the past had been cold and distant to outsiders. Even though she would lower her guard around Asher, a shadow of invisible darkness always cloaked her.

Now, that shadow had lifted, and she stood fully in the sunlight. Bit by bit, she was becoming a normal woman. She had becgentle, learned to act coquettishly, and revealed a side of herself that was soft and feminine. This transformation softened Asher's heart as well.

Even though he had nothing to do with this change, as long as Aurora was doing better, he was content. "It's getting late. I'll go wash up now," she said.

"Alright. I'll stay here tonight," Asher replied. "Tomorrow, I'll go with you to meet that Mino." Ever since seeing Aurora again, Asher didn't want to waste a single moment away from her, even if it was just silently staying by her side.

"Okay." Aurora opened her suitcase, intending to grab her toiletries, but froze the moment she saw what was inside. "Ashy, there's a problem." "What is it?" Aurora stared at the unfamiliar contents of the suitcase. Inside were two neatly folded men's shirts, along with a few small items meticulously organized.

Everything was arranged with such precision that it was clear the owner had either obsessive cleanliness or a touch of perfectionism. The contents exuded an austere and restrained vibe, featuring only black and white without the presence of a single other color.

Asher walked over and glanced inside. It was obvious that the suitcase belonged to a man.

"Did you grab the wrong suitcase?" he asked.

"Yes," Aurora admitted, her face clouded with worry. "The man sitting next toon the plane had the exact ssuitcase as mine. He must've taken mine." "Does your suitcase have anything valuable in it besides toiletries?" Asher's brows furrowed. If something important was lost, it could be troublesome.

Aurora thought for a moment. "Just sclothes, toiletries, my cardholder, and a handwritten recommendation letter from Julian." Her expression darkened. All of her cards were in that suitcase, and replacing them would be a massive hassle. The letter, written specifically for Mino, was even more critical. Julian had chosen to write it by hand, believing it would leave a better impression and ensure Mino would help Aurora.

"Alright. Wait here. I'll call the airline to help track him down. He was the man sitting next to you, right?" Asher pulled out his phone, ready to make the call.

"Yes." Meanwhile, in another high-end apartment, a man with a perfectly proportioned physique emerged from the bathroom.

He was dressed in a white bathrobe and black slippers, walking through a living room decorated in black and white. Every detail in the space exuded a cold, minimalist orderliness.

Droplets of water still clung to his damp hair, trailing down his long neck and dripping onto his broad shoulders. Handsand effortlessly seductive, he picked up a freshly poured glass of red wine and took a sip.

Then, as if remembering something, he put down the glass and walked toward his suitcase. Opening it, he froze for a moment.

Inside were two women's dresses, both in black and white-his preferred colors. Alongside them was a bag containing neatly folded lingerie: white lace, elegant yet subtly alluring.

He paused, recalling the woman at the airport. She had clung closely to another man, their intimacy obvious. By her feet had been a suitcase identical to his.

Had they accidentally swapped suitcases? Fortunately, all his valuables had been sent back earlier by his bodyguards. This suitcase only contained clothes. Normally, if he discovered he had someone else's belongings, his first instinct would be to throw them out immediately. He despised having foreign objects-or other people's "traces"-in his space.

But just as he was about to discard the suitcase, an image of her sleeping face cto mind.

Pure and childlike, her face had resembled that of an angel. He had assumed her personality would match, but her actions told a different story.

To his surprise, that supposedly angelic woman had been openly flirting with one man before boarding the plane and embracing another as soon as she landed.

He despised women like that. Normally, he wouldn't hesitate to throw such a woman's belongings far away. But as his gaze landed on the white lace lingerie, his hand stopped.

Though he had a cleanliness obsession, it didn't mean he had no desires. He had encountered plenty of women and seen all kinds of lingerie, yet this particular piece was rather unremarkable compared to those worn by others.

Still, something about the delicate, refined simplicity of the garment suited the woman's angelic face. Perhaps he had misjudged her. Could the man she had embraced simply be her brother? He didn't know why he was even bothering to consider such things for a stranger. "Maybe there's something important in here. I shouldn't toss it just yet," he muttered to himself, almost entranced, as he continued to sift through her belongings.

The contents of the suitcase were simple: makeup, clothes, and a cardholder.

His gaze fell on the cardholder and the neatly organized cards inside. Each card-black, gold, platinum-reflected the owner's wealth and status.

She had dressed simply, but he hadn't realized she was this well-off.

Next to the cards was an elegant envelope. His curiosity piqued, he opened it and read the letter inside. At the bottom was the signature: Julian Barnet.

His eyes darkened.

The world was indeed small. The letter was written by someone he knew well.

Was that woman Julian's girlfriend? So the marks on her body were from him? He didn't know much about others, but Julian had always been unwavering when it cto women. He'd never been involved with anyone-until now.

For Julian to leave so many traces of himself on her, she must have been someone very import How interesting.

Just as he was mulling over these thoughts, his phone rang a number linked to his public contact. He answered casually.

"Hello, is this Mr. Vukic?" Her voice was cool and clear, immediately recognizable.

"Yes, this is Vukic," he replied, already guessing who she might be.

"Thank goodness I found you, Mr. Vukic," she said, her tone polite but urgent. "I'm the woman who sat next to you on today's flight. I'm so sorry-l was in such a rush and accidentally took your suitcase." It was her? mmMwWLlilofiflo&1 mmMwWLlilofiflo&1 mmMwWLlilofiflo&1 mmMwWLlilofiflo&1 mmMwWLliIofifl0&1 mmMwWLlilofiflo&1