Chapter 29

ScarlettPOV

Two years, or even two months ago, what he's saying now would have made me ecstatic.

How desperately I had longed to hear those words back then.

I had spent countless nights tossing and turning, fantasizing about George speaking to me with this exact tone, looking at me with these exact eyes.

It was like the last straw a drowning person clings to, supporting me through each lonely day.

But at this moment, I only felt an indescribable annoyance.

Like hearing a song I once loved, only to discover it had lost all its magic.

This reaction surprised even me—where had the Scarlett who once had feelings for George gone? When had she silently slipped away?

The fact that I no longer felt that flutter for George, and even found his impolite persistence irritating—was it because everything had become too complicated?

"Mr. Harber," I finally turned to face him, looking directly into his eyes, "I made myself perfectly clear last time. I don't have those kinds of feelings for you. You've misunderstood!"

A flash of hurt crossed George's warm brown eyes.

For a moment, I seemed to see not the high-and-mighty heir to the Harper Group, but just an ordinary man being rejected—vulnerable and real.

But his gaze quickly became resolute, as if he was now more certain of his feelings than ever.

In that moment of vulnerability, I almost wanted to take back my words, to reach out and smooth the crease between his brows, to tell him it was all a mistake.

But reason—or perhaps reality—held me firmly in place, reminding me that this was the right choice.

"After spending two years together daily, I truly understand your feelings. I'm sorry I was so slow to realize. Could you give me a chance now?"

His sincere words almost made me waver.

His voice carried a plea and sincerity I had never heard before, and the emotion in his eyes was almost suffocating.

Such a beautiful confession, such a perfect moment, but unfortunately, everything was too late.

We were both different from before.

Taking a deep breath, I felt the cold night air sting my lungs.

My gaze shifted from soft to hard as I suddenly turned to a more practical matter: "Then can you pay off my family's debt? Ten billion dollars."

George's expression froze, as if someone had hit the pause button.

His mouth opened slightly and then closed, his eyelashes trembling, clearly not expecting me to state such a direct condition.

Those eyes that once made my heart race were now filled with confusion, as if looking at a stranger.

"If you pay it off," I continued, my voice frighteningly calm, "forget about dating, I'll even sleep with you."

As I said this, my fingers trembled slightly by my side, but I clenched them tightly into fists until my nails dug into my palms.

Every word that came out of my mouth felt like a blade cutting into me, but at this moment, I didn't want to appear weak.

His face changed, shock flashing in his eyes, as if someone had slapped him across the face.

Ten billion dollars was not something that even the heir to the Harper Group could easily produce.

His silence brought a bitter satisfaction to my heart—see, this is the power of reality, enough to turn any deep emotion to ashes before it.

"Scarlett, you're not that kind of person..." he finally spoke, his voice carrying a hint of pleading, as if wanting me to return the beautiful Scarlett he once knew.

"Mr. Harber, help me clear my debt, and I'll be your woman. But I won't be a mistress."

I looked straight into his eyes, refusing to back down, even though my heart felt immensely tired and ashamed at this moment.

Since my family's bankruptcy, I had long abandoned a young girl's naive fantasies, a luxury only the rich and powerful could afford.

In this cold high society, emotions were nothing more than another bargaining chip.

Watching the light in George's eyes gradually fade, replaced by disappointment, I felt a twisted sense of victory, along with an indescribable sorrow.

George was silent for a moment, his lips moving slightly, about to say something when the sound of high heels clicking on the ground gradually approached.

"Someone's coming."

I calmly reminded him, as if we had just been discussing tomorrow's weather.

Seeing the flash of nervousness on George's face, at this moment, I found it deeply ironic.

His reaction told me more clearly than any words that what I had just said was correct—in this world, no one would sacrifice everything for love.

"George, are you over here? Father wants you to come over for a moment."

Sandra's voice sounded not far away.

George grabbed my hand, hastily promising: "Scarlett, I'll find a way to handle your father's debt. And Sandra, I'll take care of that too."

His words sounded sincere, but to me now, they carried uncertainty and haste.

"How long will it take?" I pressed, "My father's health isn't good, and creditors won't wait forever."

He was about to answer when his expression suddenly turned serious, even carrying a hint of anger.

"So you went to Alexander?"

Hearing this name almost made me bite my tongue.

Cold sweat instantly soaked my back. Apart from being close to Alexander at the hospital last time, I had little interaction with him otherwise.

Fear enveloped me—how did George know? Who told him? Was it Sandra? Or Alexander himself?

"The relationship between Mr. Grey and me is not what you imagine."

I hurriedly denied, my voice trembling slightly with nervousness, even I could hear the panic and guilt behind it.

George was about to question further when his phone suddenly rang.

Sandra's voice was suddenly right next to us, carrying obvious anger and possessiveness.

"George, you're here, why didn't you answer me? Who's that person next to you?"

Her high heels clicked ever closer on the ground.

George gave me a complicated look, then decisively turned and left.

"I came out to rest a bit, there's no second person, you must have seen wrong..."

I leaned weakly against the stone wall, listening as their conversation gradually faded away, my tense nerves finally relaxing as I let out a long breath.

Crisis temporarily averted. Though George's departure made me feel bad, it also gave me breathing space.

But before I could fully recover from what had just happened, a strong arm suddenly grabbed my wrist from behind.

Before I could react, I was pulled into a familiar yet dangerous firm embrace.

I instinctively wanted to scream, but a hand gently covered my mouth.

Warm breath pressed against my ear, making me shiver involuntarily.

"Shh, little wildcat, don't make a sound."

That familiar, deep magnetic voice entered my ear, carrying playfulness and danger, making me instantly stiffen.

Without turning around, I knew who it was—Alexander Grey.