Arnold felt a wave of humiliation, his face burning with anger as he again realized he'd been made a fool. Frustration surged, barely contained. Remembering Matthew's dwindling time and final wish—that he marry Felicia—he suppressed his fury and reluctantly followed her. The students on the bus exchanged confused glances. "What's going on?" one asked. "Isn't Arnold supposed to be with Kayla? Even if Kayla hadn't shown, why is he so close to Felicia?"
Another student clucked their tongue. "I don't understand. Rich families' affairs are too complicated."
Arnold and Felicia's engagement had been the talk of the town, their lavish engagement party captivating everyone. But then Arnold had fled to be with Kayla, sending shockwaves through the city. No one blamed Kayla; Felicia, after all, had unexpectedly appeared as the true Fuller daughter, stealing Kayla's fiancé and driving her to a suicide attempt. So, when Arnold abandoned the party for Kayla and remained at her hospital bedside, it was deemed romantic. But now, Felicia was again approaching Arnold, in full view.
Most students sided with Kayla, their anger flaring. "Felicia still hasn't given up? She's taking advantage of Kayla's absence!" "How shameless!" another exclaimed. "I hate people like that!"
The woman who'd earlier tipped off Kayla smirked at her phone. "Don't worry, Kayla's on her way. We need to keep an eye on Mr. Lawson and prevent Felicia from exploiting the situation." "Agreed!" They dropped their bags and followed Felicia and Arnold.
On the bus, some murmured, "Anyone can see Arnold's following her, not the other way around."
The path wasn't smooth—not a neat park path, but a rugged road of building materials. Durable and weed-resistant, it was nonetheless hard on the feet. Initially, Arnold, accustomed to comfort, kept pace with Felicia. Soon, however, he struggled. His custom-made leather shoes creased, their soles worn. Muddy trousers further darkened his expression. He regretted coming.
Felicia's steps remained light and composed. Her demeanor was serene.
Arnold ground his teeth, hurrying to catch up. "What kind of path is this? It's getting isolated, and it's almost dark!" he grumbled. Felicia remained silent, aware of his discomfort. He, however, had chosen to follow her.
Ignoring her silence, Arnold grabbed her wrist, intending to pull her back, his posture suggesting possession. Felicia's expression hardened. She tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. Her temper flared; she swiftly kicked him, aiming for his groin.
The blow was effective. Arnold paled, doubled over in pain, finally releasing her wrist. His face contorted as he gritted out, "Felicia, you're ruthless!"
It served him right.
Felicia glanced at her reddened wrist, then offered him a faint smile.