If Marcus had brought her unhappiness, she was determined to inflict the same upon Millie.

Rhea pulled out her phone, resolute in her decision to provoke Millie once more. But when she called, there was no answer. Though she had a barrage of sarcastic words at the ready, she found herself without an outlet for them.

No matter, she thought. If Millie wouldn’t answer her phone, she could still send a message.

“Millie, screw you. Marcus is mine. We had a wonderful night last night. His physique is incredible, surpassing that of any male model.”

“Don’t pretend you’re not affected. I know you must have read the message and you must be devastated. Ha ha, do you understand what it means when a man lies to you? It signifies that he doesn’t care about you in the slightest. Now you’re clinging to Marcus like a desperate woman. You’re despicable.”

At that moment, Millie was in the kitchen, stirring a pot of soup. Upon reading the messages, she stopped in her tracks. She glanced outside, where the sun was unusually bright. Pulling her gaze away, she pursed her lips and typed a brief response with one hand.

“Whose dog is barking?”

off her phone. She narrowed her eyes, trying to steel herself. But in reality, she

but wonder why Marcus had

made her way to the

bowls of the warm soup. Millie then assisted her into the wheelchair and

along the hospital path, Millie pushing the wheelchair at a leisurely pace, her grandmother sensed

often downcast,

grandmother asked in a worried tone, “Millie, is something

Millie replied, shaking

me, child. You grew up under my watchful eye. I can tell when something’s on your mind,” her grandmother

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