He Secretly Used Our Down Payment to Buy Her a Luxury Bag Chapter 10

He Secretly Used Our Down Payment to Buy Her a Luxury Bag Chapter 10

I did not answer.

I ate slowly until I had filled my stomach, then looked up at him.

“Elliot, does it really matter whether I forgive you?”

“Of course it does.”

“Fine. I’ll ask you three questions. Answer them honestly, and I’ll give you a chance.”

“Go ahead.”

I looked directly at him. “First, why did you lie to me about who you were?”

Elliot pressed his lips together. “I was afraid…”

He stopped, apparently unable to say the rest.

I finished for him. “You were afraid I was only with you for your money, weren’t you?”

His mouth opened, embarrassment flashing across his face at having been seen through.

“After we got together, I was always looking for the right opportunity to tell you the truth,” he said

urgently.

I nodded. “Good. That brings me to my second question. If I hadn’t discovered everything by accident, when were you planning to tell me? Before the wedding? At the altar? After we were married? Or were you planning to lie to me forever?”

Elliot clenched his fists.

He could not answer.

I continued. “Third, if we had actually gotten married, what were you planning to do about

Camille?”

His head jerked up.

He was about to speak when I cut him off.

“But no matter what you planned to do, you had already cheated on me. To me, the only difference

is between eating a pile of shit and eating a chocolate-flavored pile of shit. They’re both

disgusting.”

Elliot’s face turned pale.

I gave a humorless laugh. “See, Elliot? You were the one who hurt me, yet even you can’t honestly face what you did. What right do you have to ask me, the person you hurt, to forgive you?”

His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.

In the end, he left dejectedly.”

After that day, Elliot truly left.

I resigned from my job and devoted myself to building my business.

A year later, my shop officially opened.

On opening day, someone sent two grand-opening floral arrangements and a copy of the recorded

deed to the storefront, listing me as the owner.

There was also a letter inside.

[Stella, you were right.

I need to face what I did, so I won’t show up in your life again.

The storefront and the car are my way of compensating you for what I did.

I’m sorry.]

I tipped the envelope over, and a Mercedes key fob fell into my palm.

For a long time, I said nothing.