A Wealthy Heir Called Me “Plain And Dull” Behind My Back — Then Showed Up At My Library
Part 2
I held his gaze, the cold rain beginning to fall harder around us.
I knew exactly what it cost a man like him, a man built entirely on precision and pride, to admit such a total defeat.
“I know you were wrong,” I said evenly.
He let out a short, hollow exhale, the sound carrying a strange mix of frustration and relief.
“That wasn’t what I expected you to say.”
I turned and resumed walking slowly down the wet pavement.
He immediately fell into step right beside me, matching my deliberate pace.
“I’ve known I wasn’t plain and dull since I was seventeen years old,” I told him, keeping my eyes fixed on the gray street ahead.
“Your harsh opinion in that study wasn’t actual evidence about my character.”
I paused, letting the heavy silence stretch between us.
“It was evidence about how you form opinions when you’re tired, when you’re being managed by your peers, and when you just want a tedious subject closed.”
He went completely quiet, absorbing the blow without flinching.
“You are…”
He started, his voice rough and unpolished.
“I don’t know the right word for it.”
I raised a single eyebrow.
“Insufferable is commonly used.”
“I was going to say extraordinary,” he murmured.
My hand drifted instinctively toward the cold garnet brooch at my throat, but I caught myself and deliberately lowered my arm.
“What are you going to do about your arrangement with Nicole?”
I asked quietly.
He didn’t answer immediately, which was honestly the most respectful thing he could have done.
“I don’t know,” he finally admitted.
“What I do know is that I cannot pretend to feel about Nicole what I feel…”
“What you feel for both of us,” I finished for him, my tone clinical.
He nodded once, his jaw tight.
We reached the heavy iron gates at the end of the street.
“I am not asking you for anything,” I said, turning to fully face him.
“What you decide to do about your engagement is entirely yours to determine.”
I kept my voice perfectly steady, firmly locking away the sudden, terrifying flutter in my chest.
“I am not a factor in your calculation unless you actively choose to make me one.”
He took half a step closer, leaving only a few dangerous inches between us.
“You are already a factor,” he said softly.
“That is precisely the problem.”
“Then the problem is yours to solve,” I replied firmly.
I walked through the iron gates and hailed a passing cab without ever looking back.
For an entire week, the city buzzed with vicious rumors about the two of us, and I waited in absolute, agonized silence.
Then, on a gloomy one morning morning, a heavy knock echoed through our small townhouse.
My mother gasped as the door opened, and Brian walked straight into our cramped sitting room.
He didn’t sit down, and he didn’t accept the tea my mother frantically offered.
He looked directly at me, his striking gray eyes burning with a terrifying intensity.
“I spoke to Nicole,” he said.
My breath caught painfully in my throat.
What exactly had he confessed to the most powerful family in the city, and how much of the resulting explosion was about to land directly on me?
