apter 3
Rich people are just rich people. They can come up with fancy reasons even when they want to watch a joke.
Frankle pursed his lips, and I knew that was his expression of anger.
But I didn’t understand why he was so angry. Was it because I also made him, who was always superior, become the subject of others‘ gossip?
Frankie took out his phone and found my chat box.
Frankie was my only Line top contact, but now Sarah is his only top contact on his phone.
And because there were too many people messaging him, Frankie couldn’t find my Line for a Anoment.
Sarah’s expression relaxed and it was evident that she was pleased.
Frankie flipped through and caused trouble, directly searching for my name.
When my chat box popped up, there it was, my last message to him, “Frankie, let’s break up. I’ve had enough of tough times with you. Don’t come looking for me.”
Frankie pursed his lips, his eyes gathering storm, and his hand holding the glass crushed it fiercely.
Blood flowed down the wine glass, startling the others in the private room.
Sarah also glanced at Frankie and carefully took the phone from Frankie’s hand.
That message was sent by me in order to help him have a better life, but at that moment, that message saved my shattered self–esteem.
The woman who had been fooled for a year was abandoned, and she must have felt very bad.
As I watched Frankie’s extremely angry expression, a hint of satisfaction flashed through my mind.
Someone also leaned over and exclaimed when they saw the content on their phone, “Damn, Mr Gerardo got dumped by that little bitch! I told you, there’s no woman in this world who doesn’t care about money!”
Everyone was stunned, but after realizing it, they teased Frankie that he had lost the bet and should be willing to accept the consequences.
Frankie shook off the shards of glass in his hand and then pulled out a black card, “Ha. Go buy whatever you want, one sports car for each person, no need to save money for me.”
Gerardo are ou
Someone cautiously spoke up, “Mr. angry?”
Frankie coldly glanced at the man and said, “Why should I get angry over a materialistic woman?”
1/3
However, no one had dared to leave me, Frankle, Jessie, behind first! She always had to pay at Price!”
Tlooked scornfully at all the eager people in the private room, only allowing you rich people to mock us poor people, but not allowing us poor people to fight back, right?
What a bunch of rotten people, to come up with such a boring and malicious game.
Sarah’s friend spoke up, “Well, I happen to know a man who has AIDS and is very wealthy. Why not let him try to seduce Jessie?”
Another man smirked and said, “Why not? Jessle looks pretty good. The people who come to my club are all wealthy. Let’s have her work there.”
They decided my stay or departure so casually, as if I were an object, not worthy of respect.
Frankie kicked the table hard, and the room fell silent. “You don’t need to bother; I can handle my own affairs. I will make sure she begs for life and can’t even wish for death.”
I chuckled self–deprecatingly, but you don’t have to do anything, after all, I was already dead, died because I didn’t want you, who pretended to be poor, to spend all your money to save me.
Someone saw Frankie like this and couldn’t help but shiver, agreeing, “Yeah, no one can torture people like Mr. Gerardo does.”
Frankie left the scene with an air of anger, not even Sarah dared to stop him.
I saw Frankie sending a message to someone, “Find Jessie’s location within half an hour, otherwise get lost.”
He was Bruce Garrett, the only buddy of the poor version of Frankie.
Now it seems that, except for me, everything and everyone around Frankie was probably fake.
Fifteen minutes later, Frankie received a phone call, Bruce’s voice on the other end saying, “Mr. Gerardo, Ms. Preston is at the morgue.”
