Second Chance: Marrying into Wealth Chapter 226

"No, I just misheard you." I was worried that if I agreed, it might come off as a bit ambiguous. What if Christopher and Marlowe ended up together and Marlowe misunderstood?

And I have to admit, the way Christopher said "Melinda" sounded a lot like the guy from that night. Every time he called my name, I couldn't help but remember that man.

Christopher responded with a soft "okay," which was kind of sweet.

His slightly pouting expression made him look a bit upset, and I couldn't help but glance at him a few more times.

The car started, and Christopher closed his eyes again. His face was still flushed from the alcohol, and in the enclosed car, he seemed to be getting a bit warm.

But I didn't ask the driver to open the window, fearing that the cool breeze might make him sick after drinking.

They said a person's behavior when drunk revealed their true character. When Christopher got drunk, he just slept, looking very well-behaved.

When we arrived at his house, I helped Christopher out of the car. He was very cooperative, even though he was a bit dazed. He walked when I told him to, without putting all his weight on me, so it wasn't too tiring to help him inside.

Knowing he was drunk, I had already asked Tiana to prepare some hangover soup.

After getting Christopher inside, I gave him the soup. With that taken care of, I didn't need to worry too much, so I went back to my own place.

The events in the car had stirred up some memories, so I called Vance.

"Vance, can you help me look into it again?" I asked.

Vance, always eager to make money, replied regretfully, "Ms. Turner, I'm sorry, but I can't find anything. There's no way to trace it."

If someone with his skills couldn't find anything, I knew there was no point in hoping.

"Sorry to bother you again," I said, feeling a bit embarrassed.

I had troubled him multiple times, still unwilling to give up.

Vance was very polite, even apologizing for not being able to help.

After hanging up, I had a dream that night. In the dream, I saw the man from the hotel again. I tried to open my eyes and turn on the light to see his face clearly.

But in the end, I still couldn't see his face.

I decided to treat it as a minor episode. Life moved forward, no need to look back.

At this time, Lawrence's lawyer wanted to talk to me alone.

If she hadn't come to the office to see me, I probably wouldn't have met her. But since she was here, I treated it as a routine matter and went downstairs to the café to meet her.

"What would you like to drink?"

Ophelia placed the menu in front of the lawyer, Beatrice Grace. She had been working here for a while but was still only half-adjusted.

At least she didn't drop the cups anymore, but her attitude was still not very polite, with a hint of impatience in her tone.

I wasn't sure if she was deliberately targeting me, but she gave me a glare. "Hurry up and choose!"

I couldn't help but laugh at her behavior. "Ophelia, I need to remind you that the person across from you is a lawyer. Your attitude could get you in legal trouble. If you don't want to lose your job, you should be more polite."

Ophelia's face changed immediately.

Ophelia quickly put on a smile, her tone much gentler. "What would you like to order?"

Beatrice, here for business, didn't mind Ophelia's attitude and casually ordered a hand-brewed coffee.

After Ophelia left to prepare the coffee, Beatrice couldn't wait to speak. "Ms. Turner, he's dying and has some things he wants to say to you. Please, do a good deed and see Lawrence one last time."

I looked deeply at Beatrice. "Ms. Grace, as a fellow woman, you must know what Lawrence did to me. You've done your job by meeting me, and I've given you the courtesy of listening. My stance remains the same: I won't see him."

"Ms. Turner, why be so stubborn? Seeing him will fulfill his last wish and give you closure. It's just a short visit," Beatrice said, frowning, clearly not understanding.

I deeply understood the saying, "You don't know the pain until the knife cuts your own flesh."

That was why Beatrice could speak so lightly.

I looked at her with a mocking expression but didn't respond.

Beatrice wanted to persuade me further.

But before I could react, Ophelia, carrying the coffee, spoke up angrily.

"What's wrong with you? You talk about kindness, but do you have any? You're an educated modern woman, yet you stand by that awful Lawrence. With your attitude, I wonder how many bad guys you've defended as a lawyer."

Ophelia slammed the coffee down on the table, spilling it on Beatrice's clothes.

Despite Ophelia's previous annoying behavior towards me, her fierce defense was kind of cute, especially with her innocent, pretty face.

If I weren't one of the involved parties, I might have applauded her.

Beatrice frowned, clearly uncomfortable with Ophelia's sudden change in demeanor, and was about to speak.

But Ophelia cut her off again. "There's no rule that says the victim must forgive the wrongdoer just because they apologized. You should know that, right?"

Beatrice instinctively retorted, "I never said Ms. Turner should forgive him. He's already been punished by the law. But they were married. If she has any compassion, she should see him one last time. Why refuse?"

"Give me a break! By your logic, if I harmed your parents, killed your child, and stole your money, would you see me to give me peace of mind? Would you?" Ophelia looked at Beatrice with disdain.

Beatrice was momentarily speechless.

Ophelia, feeling triumphant, continued, "See? You wouldn't do it either. Stop pretending to be so noble."

I couldn't help but laugh.

Maybe Ophelia had honed her sharp tongue from making so many mistakes at the café. She was quick and to the point.

But my laughter was short-lived.

Her sharp tongue seemed to attack indiscriminately. "And you, laughing like that. You were fooled by a bad man before, which was stupid and weak. I thought you'd learn from it. Now someone comes to you, and you laugh? If it were me, I'd humiliate her right back."

I stopped laughing, not daring to continue.

Beatrice, having recovered, was especially annoyed that Ophelia had interrupted her and made her look bad. She couldn't help but scold Ophelia, "I'm discussing private matters with Ms. Turner. You're just a waitress. If you don't do your job properly, I'll call the manager!"