Chapter 3

No wonder.

At the start of our relationship, he was like the perfect boyfriend.

Food, clothes, where I stayed, how I got around—he thought of everything.

And just when I finally let my guard down and let myself enjoy the way he felt about me, he changed again.

He wouldn't pick up the phone; he wouldn't answer my messages.

When I went to find him, all I got were gentle words of comfort.

What a girl can't stand most is the gentle knife. Even if she's the one in the wrong, as long as you don't blow up, don't get angry, and just speak to her sweetly—

Then no matter how angry she is, she'll end up looking for the fault in herself.

I sat in a daze for a few seconds.

There was a dull ache in my chest, but more than anything I felt wronged.

Wow, Marianne, you really are a national strategist.

That little heiress is completely wrapped around Leo's finger, hahaha.

She's still sitting there like a fool, not knowing Leo treats her like a dog.

I can't take it anymore—the unattainable flower and the dog, I'm dying laughing. It really is better to talk in the small group, where we can all speak our minds.

So they thought these messages were going to a different group.

A group I wasn't in.

I laughed at myself.

Leo sent a message.

My card balance is running low, so I'll use your card for the trip.

Don't say anything about it later, or I'll lose face in front of my friends.

I turned him down flat.

And I called my assistant while I was at it, telling her to cancel every supplementary card under my name.

Leo came over carrying a half-eaten steak.

Like he was handing out charity.

"These are Marianne's leftovers. She said you hadn't eaten anything and was worried you'd be hungry."

"You should learn from my buddies and be a little more frugal."

Using frugality to guilt-trip me—that was something else he'd learned from Marianne.

Marianne said in the group that it could cultivate a sense of guilt.

Drink bubble tea, and he'd tell me how hard the tea farmers work picking the leaves; eat noodles, and he'd tell me how exhausting it is for the farmers…

Even if it had nothing to do with me, she wanted me dragged into feeling three parts responsible.

The two of them silently expected me to finish off the leftovers.

My nose stung harder with anger, and when I spoke, my voice broke into a sob I couldn't hold back.

"Why can't it be my leftovers that you take to her?"

The phone in my hand trembled.

Leo pushed the plate toward me, a trace of impatience still in his eyes.

"It's such a waste for you to order so much—you eat like a sparrow anyway."

"Some leftovers are plenty to fill you up."

"Besides, your leftovers have your saliva all over them. How could I give those to Marianne?"

So he did know that food other people had touched had saliva on it, and that it was rude to give it to someone else.

Yet he was perfectly willing to have me eat what others left behind.

I bit the tip of my tongue, forcing the hurt back down, but my eyes only reddened more.

"If you like eating food someone else has drooled on, then eat it yourself."

My little sister called:

"Sissy, sissy, I want to come find you. Don't go on your honeymoon with that bad brother-in-law. He's mean, he's always making you upset."

The childish voice carried both hurt and a clear-eyed understanding.

"Sissy, Mom and Dad both said you're about to get on the plane."

"Alexandra doesn't like a brother-in-law who makes her sissy feel bad."

My heart warmed.

The tears I'd almost managed to hold back spilled over anyway.

"I know, Alexandra. Sissy won't go on any honeymoon with him."

"Sissy will listen to you."

My little sister was born when Mom was already middle-aged, and she's always been close to me.

She's like a little angel to everyone around me; the only person she doesn't like is Leo.

Several times she'd clenched her little fists and tried to charge at him.

"What kind of dumb scheme has that little piggy sister of yours cooked up for you now?"

The moment the nickname "little piggy" came out, Leo's whole crowd of buddies laughed.

"Little piggy, huh—that nickname really fits. Can somebody tell me why the aloof flower's sister is as fat as a pig?"

"No offense, but seriously—your sister's that fat and still snaps at Leo every time. You're the older sister, and you don't even smack her once to set her straight?"

"They say it online all the time—a bratty kid just needs a good beating. If one doesn't do it, a few more will."

"If you can't bring yourself to do it, we'll do it for you. Beating a brat till she cries—that's a sound we love to hear."

A chorus of malicious laughter blurred together.

I picked up the plate of food and slammed it straight into Everard's face.

Sticky black pepper sauce ran down his face and dripped onto his shirt.

The plate hit the floor and broke in two.

I kicked him in the shin again.

His legs buckled and he dropped to his knees.

"You think you're worthy of touching my sister?"

"If you've got the guts, do something when your parents and my family sit down to sign the deal. All you can do is run your mouth, you coward."

The Cox family depends on the Hensons' distribution channels to sell most of what they make. Without the Hensons, he's not worth a damn.

"Want me to call again so you can say all that in front of my parents?"