But why must their regrets always be paid with my own sincerity?
Tears slid onto the phone screen. I didn’t reply. Instead, I dialed another number.
"Dr. Brian? Yes, please help me get a death certificate."
Since he loved to act, I would give him a stage and this would be my final gift to him.
The death certificate arrived at the villa and I dragged my suitcase out the door without looking back, heading straight for the airport.
At that same moment, in Paris, Justin stared at his phone. The message thread remained unanswered for so long that a prickling unease and irritation began to stir.
"What’s wrong with Starlene? We just left and she’s already out of reach. Can’t you control her?"
"She doesn’t answer calls or reply to messages. Who spoiled her like this?"
Rhea emerged from the bathroom in a loose bathrobe, damp hair dripping onto her shoulders.
Her smooth legs hooked around the man’s waist.
"With how exhausting the wedding was, it’s normal for Starlene to want some rest."
"If I had a boss as cold-hearted as you, I would have quit long ago."
"Since we’re on our honeymoon, don’t worry about things at home. We can talk it out with Starlene when we return."
Justin gave a brief nod, his eyes already clouding over with desire.
Two months later, they finally returned from their honeymoon abroad.
As soon as they stepped into the villa, Justin’s voice rang out instinctively, "Starlene? Starlene, quick help Rhea with her luggage."
This time, there was no familiar, gentle reply.
The servants froze mid-task, exchanging uneasy glances before one of them stepped forward.
"Sir, Starlene left two months ago."
"She only left this behind and she said you should see it yourself."
The servant extended a medical diagnosis. Terminal cancer.
At a glance, the blood drained from Justin’s face.
