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Chapter 39: You Were Never My Ex
This was something I had expected, and I didn’t really dwell on it.
After all, Davina had the luck on her side.
What I didn’t expect, though, was that on Monday, when I arrived at the office, I saw Davina wearing that old–money style coat, chatting enthusiastically with Aria.
As if showing off a trophy, she laughed and said, “It was still 13,000 after the discount. Of course, I didn’t want to spend that much, but Letch said I looked great in it, and he
paid for it without even consulting me. Now I can’t even return it.”
Aria looked at her with envy. “Oh my God,
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where can I find a boyfriend like Mr. Lynton, so handsome and rich? Lord, show some mercy.”
I couldn’t help but glance at Davina again.
How should I put it? I didn’t quite agree with Fletcher’s taste.
Davina was petite and cute, and sweet or Y2K styles should have suited her best. But there she was in that old–money coat, paired with her innocent face, and there was a strange sense of incongruity.
But who could argue with Fletcher’s money?
“Oh, Charlene’s here” Davina spotted me and walked over with enthusiasm. Smiling, she said, “I meant to call you last night to apologize, but it got too late, and I didn’t want to disturb your rest.”
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I was confused. “Apologize for what?”
Davina’s white fingers twisted the belt of her coat awkwardly as she said shyly, “About the coat, I actually feel kind of bad about it.”
She said it with such a tone of regret, yet here she was, proudly wearing the very coat to the office.
I smiled and said, “Davina, you’re
overthinking it. There are plenty of styles in the mall, I can just swap it for another one.”
The same went for men.
Kaitlyn suddenly appeared from somewhere, her gaze sweeping over Davina. “Old money style? Since when did you switch styles, Davina?”
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Davina happily looked at the collar of her coat, but before she could respond, Kaitlyn added, “Sweet and cute styles suit you more. This one… it makes you look like an old lady.”
In an instant, Davina’s smile froze at the corner of her lips.
Back at the office, I shot a glance at Kaitlyn and said, “You’ve made a $10,000 cashmere coat sound like something from a street market.”
Kaitlyn chuckled lightly, “Don’t forget, I used to be a high–level VIP in the luxury brand world.”
That was true. Although Kaitlyn’s clothes weren’t always the latest styles, even a random piece she picked out could buy Davina seven or eight of those coats.
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When compared like this, Fletcher didn’t seem so generous after all.
I suddenly didn’t feel as suffocated.
But in the afternoon, I received a call from Daphne.
“Lena, I happen to be passing by your office. Would you like to join me for a coffee?”
Her tone was quite friendly.
It seemed like there was more behind her invitation.
I knew I could avoid her for a while, but not forever, so I accepted the invitation.
At the café, by the French window, Daphne sat on the sofa wearing a light brown short mink coat, exuding an air of elegance with
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every gesture.
She was growing into her role as a rich lady quite impressively.
“Lena you’re here.”
“Daphne, do you need something from me?” I got straight to the point.
Daphne seemed surprised by my directness. She took a Chanel shopping bag from the side and handed it to me, saying, “I saw this while shopping yesterday. I thought the color would look good on you, so I decided to buy it.”
I glanced inside and saw a black Chanel 2.55 bag, a classic style. The color was versatile, and even an old version could easily fetch 3000 to 6000 on the secondhand market, let alone a new one.
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I didn’t know how Daphne decided it was the right fit for me, but I politely declined, saying, “Daphne, this gift is too expensive. I can’t accept it.”
Daphne froze for a moment, awkwardly tugging at the corner of her mouth. After a long while, she spoke up, “Lena, are your planning to settle down in Myslana?”
“Daphne, what do you mean?”
Daphne lifted her mug and took a small sip, then said, “Yesterday at the mall, I didn’t recognize your uncle–in–law Miles right away.”
Suddenly, everything clicked in my mind, and a wave of sadness washed over me.
It seemed that our recent interactions had
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been tolerable enough for me to almost forget that we were never on the same side.
“Lena, I don’t mean anything bad. I just wanted to say, since we’re all in Myslana, if there’s anything I can help with…”
“Daphne,” I interrupted, my tone turning colder. “Sorry, but I have to get back to work.”
Daphne would probably never understand- while we might be poor, we didn’t need pity wrapped in cheap gestures.
I took a long detour around the building before finally heading back to the office. Unfortunately, as I reached the elevator, I ran into Fletcher.
He frowned slightly, his jaw tense, and there was a palpable tension around him. He seemed in a bad mood.
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At this time, I guessed he was probably here to pick up Davina from work, though I had no idea what had gotten into him today.
Sometimes, Fletcher and his mom really knew how to stir up trouble.
I mustered the courage to greet him, but Fletcher only responded with a brief acknowledgment, barely sparing me a glance. It was clear he didn’t want to engage.
Once inside the elevator, I wisely stood behind him on his right, silently assuming the role of a background figure.
Neither of us spoke.
Just as I thought I could enjoy a moment of peace, Fletcher suddenly broke the silence. “Doesn’t it disgust you?”
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His question came out of nowhere, leaving me confused, unsure how to respond.
Seeing my silence, Fletcher pressed on, emphasizing, “Flirting with other men in a room you’ve shared with your ex–doesn’t that disgust you?”
His voice was calm, but it felt like I had been slapped across the face. I couldn’t find the right words to respond and stood there like a wooden figure, speechless.
But soon, I realized what Fletcher was really getting at.
He was accusing me of flirting with other men in the apartment we had once shared.
So, it wasn’t hard to deduce that he must have stumbled upon the scene where
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Winston had dropped me off last night.
Since Davina lived upstairs, it made sense that he might have happened to witness it, and I guessed that Fletcher must have misunderstood my relationship with Winston.
Had this happened before, I might have tried to explain myself, but now I felt as if invisible hands were gripping my heart, squeezing the life out of me.
I kept wondering, what right did Fletcher have to pass judgment on me?
What made him think he had the authority?
As this thought hit me, I pinched the palm of my hand, lifted my head, and with a calm demeanor, I said, “Mr. Lynton, are you perhaps focusing on the wrong thing?”
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Shouldn’t he be more concerned with his Ms.
Bates?
Fletcher turned to face me, his gaze intense, his dark eyes flashing with something sinister. “Charlene, you really like to flatter yourself, don’t you?”
His tone was mocking, completely unreserved.
I clenched my jaw, not backing down for a second. I retorted, “Mr. Lynton, the word you just used was rather imprecise. I think it’s only right that I correct you.”
Fletcher stood silent, his sharp features illuminated by the overhead lights, casting a cold and cutting shadow across his face.
I couldn’t hold back any longer. I spoke
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plainly, “Fletcher, to me, you’re not, and have never been my ex.”
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