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?”

She narrowed her eyes, trying to steel herself. But in

couldn’t help but wonder why

the soup, Millie made her way to the

her into the wheelchair and gently pushed

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

eyes were often downcast,

a worried tone, “Millie,

Millie replied,

You grew up under my watchful eye. I can

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