I Was A Cold‑Blooded Gold Digger, But I Pretended To Bow Out Gracefully Chapter 08

I Was A Cold‑Blooded Gold Digger, But I Pretended To Bow Out Gracefully Chapter 08

The apartment I rented was small, one bedroom and a little living room.

The kitchen was squeezed into a corner, smaller than the walk–in closet in Felix’s penthouse.

But standing at the entrance, watching the sunlight spill across the bare floor,

I suddenly felt my nose sting.

Maya walked around the living room and opened the fridge.

“The previous tenant left a jar of chili crisp. Do you want it?”

“Yes.”

She set it on the counter, glanced back at me, and suddenly laughed.

“You know, when you got off the plane, you scared me.”

“Why?”

“You looked completely lifeless. Your face was so pale it was frightening.”

She pointed at my face now. “You look better now. When you smiled earlier, you finally seemed like a real

person.”

I didn’t say anything.

I just opened my suitcase and took things out one by one.

I had sold most of the luxury goods from those years, keeping only a few everyday clothes.

But I felt incredibly light.

The days passed like that. That evening, I sat at my desk doing homework.

Halfway through, my phone rang.

There was no name on the caller ID, but I could recite the number with my eyes closed.

I didn’t answer. Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang.

I froze, walked to the door, and looked through the peephole. My heart skipped a beat.

The man standing in the hallway had broad shoulders, a perfectly cut black coat dusted with travel, and hair slightly mussed by the wind.

After hesitating, I opened the door a crack.

Felix looked up at me, his gaze moving slowly from my face down to my arm.

There was still a faint pink mark, the burn not fully healed.

His lips moved, like he wanted to say something, but in the end he only called my name, softly.

Sienna.

“What are you doing here?”

He was silent for a few seconds, his gaze dropping, as if weighing his words carefully.

“I know about Daisy.”

His voice was rough. “I saw the file.”

“Sienna, I was wrong.”

The old scar on my heart was touched, not painfully, just sour.

In five years, this was the first time Felix had said those three words to me.

In the past, I had argued, cried, acted spoiled, even just begged for an empty reassurance, and he wouldn’t

give it.

Now he stood at my door, travel–worn, saying he was wrong.

But I didn’t feel much anymore.

“The day your father came, I arranged it.”

He said it suddenly. My fingers tightened for a second.

“But that wasn’t my intention…”

“Then what was your intention?”

I cut him off.

He pressed his lips together and didn’t answer.

I smiled. “You wanted me to be afraid, to soften, to come crying back to you, right? You just wanted to teach

me a lesson, to make me bow my head.”

He didn’t deny it.

“But you didn’t think about the fact that he’s my father. Do you know he almost sold me off once?”

My voice was flat. “Do you know where I’d be right now if I hadn’t kept that knife under my pillow that night?”

Felix’s face went pale for a second.

He stepped forward, raising a hand as if to touch my face.

I stepped back. His hand hung in the air, his fingers curling slightly before he pulled it away.

“Come back with me, Sienna. When we get back, we’ll get married.”

“Don’t worry about my family. I’ll handle them.”