Chapter 39

Everyone’s attention returned to Jonathan. His face was impassive, but the air around him felt chillingly cold. The group fell silent.

Meanwhile, Cynthia hadn't received the answers she sought from Filip, who had fainted again, his body slumping against hers. She had no choice but to support him as they left the Opulence Club.

The group, still wary of Jonathan's reaction, watched him closely.

Bruce, ever reckless, spoke up. "Roncrity may be a small town, but the women here are bold, daring to cheat on Jonathan. Jonathan, leave her to me. I have plenty of ways to deal with such women. I promise you'll get your revenge."

Jonathan remained silent. His lack of response was taken as agreement, and the others began teasing Bruce. "Help Jonathan get revenge? Please, you just want her. You already have eight girlfriends, and you still want more? No one's a womanizer like you."

Bruce stammered an excuse. "A slut like that needs someone like me to teach her a lesson. I'd court her, and then I'd set up a poker game with two tables and tell her all the girls there are my girlfriends. She'd be shocked and never forget it."

Bruce continued to fantasize aloud about how he'd manipulate Cynthia, becoming increasingly explicit. "Three days; she'd be in my bed within three days."

Suddenly, Jonathan spun around and punched Bruce in the face. Bruce fell, astonished.

Jonathan grabbed Bruce by the collar. "Don't you dare touch her." He released Bruce and stormed out.

The others stood dumbfounded. Though Jonathan was often distant and unapproachable, he had always treated them well. Otherwise, they wouldn't have followed him from Betrico to Roncrity.

But just now, they had seen murderous intent in his eyes.

Tommy sighed. "Jonathan's serious about that woman."

As Jonathan left the club, he saw Cynthia helping Filip into her car before driving away.

Jonathan hadn't driven, so chasing them was impossible. He called Cynthia instead.

Cynthia saw a call from "Pretty Boy" and was about to answer when her phone died.

Driving along the overpass, Cynthia took Filip to the Yates residence. The Yates family was asleep, so Cynthia carried Filip to his room.

She planned to leave, but Filip woke up, clinging to her hand and calling her "Cyn."

Seeing he was still semi-conscious, Cynthia tried to get information from him. However, Filip seemed to have forgotten the last three years, speaking only of the past, especially their childhood memories.

Filip lifted his shirt, pointing to a scar on his waist. "Cyn, you despise me, don't you? Because of this. But you promised to take care of me for life, even if I was crippled."

Chapter 39

Cynthia's heart leaped as she looked at the scar.

It was from when they were twelve, at summer camp. Cynthia had gotten hungry in the middle of the night and snuck out with Filip, stealing instant noodles and cooking them over a campfire. Filip lifted the boiling pot, but the handle broke, spilling the scalding soup onto his waist. He was severely burned.

Cynthia remembered the severity of his injuries—a long hospitalization, a severe infection requiring ICU care, and the doctor mentioning possible amputation. She had stayed by his bedside and cried, promising to care for him even if he became disabled.

After his discharge, Filip never mentioned the incident or showed her the extent of his injuries.

Now, Cynthia saw the scar—deformed muscle, uneven and discolored skin. This was only a small part; the worst was on his leg. She imagined the horrific scarring.

Memories flooded back, and Cynthia's eyes reddened. "Filip, why would you say that? When have I ever despised you?"

"You wrote it in your diary, and you still deny it?" Filip looked heartbroken. "I'm like this, crippled. I'm not worthy of you."

Cynthia tried to ask more, but Filip pushed her out of the room. "Go away, Cynthia! I don't need your sympathy or your charity!" He slammed the door.

Cynthia was about to leave when she ran into Pamela, who warmly insisted she stay the night. Knowing she still had questions, Cynthia agreed and stayed in the next room.

That night, Cynthia couldn't sleep, wondering what Filip meant and what diary he referred to.

The next morning, at breakfast, she ran into Filip.

A strange expression flickered in his eyes. "Were you the one who brought me home last night?"

Cynthia calmly ate. "You were drunk. Kevin called me."

Filip was silent. "Next time, I'll tell them we're separated, so they won't bother you."

Cynthia remained calm. "Do as you like."

Filip stared at her makeup-free face. Without makeup, she looked young, like a college student. After a moment, he said, "I've looked into the posts. Lilian orchestrated it. I don't know why she targeted you, but I apologize on her behalf."

Cynthia didn't react.

Filip continued, "I can compensate you. You can ask for anything."

Cynthia raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"

Filip's face darkened, caution in his eyes. "As long as it's within my power."

Cynthia found it amusing. He seemed guarded. "Don't worry. I won't ask you to leave Lilian and come back to me."

Filip frowned.