The weight of their conversation was staggering. My mind replayed their words over and over, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t recall any prior connection between Elijah and Henry.
Standing outside the private room, my whole body trembled uncontrollably.
I had thought Elijah’s appearance in my life was mere coincidence.
I never realized that everything had been a carefully orchestrated trap, designed just for me.
As Henry pushed open the door, I quickly hid around the corner.
A second later, Elijah emerged, his arm wrapped around a woman’s waist.
I turned to leave, but before I could take a step, his hand caught me.
“Why are you here? Spying on me?”
“Or did you know your dear ex-husband was coming and just couldn’t resist a peek at your old lover?”
His reaction told me one thing—he wasn’t the one who sent the message calling me up.
I looked at the woman in his arms—his newest girlfriend, the one he swore he would marry.
“You must be Yvonne. I’m Sophia, Elijah’s fiancée.” Sophia smiled.
“You're just as stunning as they say. No wonder Henry still can’t forget you.”
With just a few casual words, Sophia set Elijah’s fury ablaze.
His bloodshot eyes locked onto me as he gritted his teeth. “Do you really still pine for Henry that much? Is one glimpse of him enough to satisfy you?”
“Yvonne, are you a masochist?” His voice trembled with suppressed rage.
For three years, he had tormented me in every way imaginable, believing that I was still in love with Henry.
And for three years, I had stubbornly refused to deny it.
The pure, youthful love we once shared had long since been twisted beyond recognition in our endless cycle of pain and revenge.
Seeing my silence, Elijah’s emotions spiraled further out of control.
"Or are you short on money again?" he hissed.
My mother's illness was like a bottomless pit, making it nearly impossible for me to leave Elijah.
His gaze, filled with disdain and mockery, pierced me like a needle.
"Of course. What else would I come to you for, if not money?" I countered sarcastically.
Just like how, whenever he came to me, it was only for sex.
For a split second, a flicker of shock crossed his face, quickly replaced by a simmering fury.
"Yvonne, even the women selling themselves on the street have more dignity than you."
As he spat, a black card landed at my feet.
My chest tightened painfully. I let out a bitter smile, bent down, and picked it up.