Chapter 203
"I'm a little tired. I want to go back to bed. Find someone else."
Without another word, Milton dragged himself up the stairs, one slow step at a time.
Dahlia stood frozen in place, her smile still plastered on her face, but the corners of her mouth had gone so stiff she could barely hold it.
She watched his figure disappear around the stairwell, her fingers curling slowly into fists at her sides.
She took a deep breath and turned back to her room.
The door clicked shut behind her. She walked to the bed, bent down, and picked up the little robot with its cracked shell from the floor. She turned it over in her hands for a few seconds, then her fingers tightened around it until her knuckles went white.
Why.
She gritted her teeth and set the little robot back on the desk.
Why wasn't her twenty years of effort worth more than a few days of Lucinda being back!
Meanwhile, at the café.
Allegra sat by the window, a cup of long-cold Americano in front of her, her fingers tapping lightly on the table.
She pulled out the divorce agreement she'd prepared in advance, along with the diary she'd rushed to finish overnight and that crooked, badly knitted gray scarf. She arranged them neatly on the table.
Outside, a car engine cut off. She looked up and saw Marshall step out of a black sedan.
His brow was slightly furrowed, like he was showing up to an appointment he didn't really want to keep.
She looked away and quickly adjusted her expression into a gentle smile.
Marshall pushed through the door, walked over to her, and sat down across from her.
He glanced at the items on the table, his gaze lingering a moment longer on the divorce agreement. His tone was complicated. "Your text said you wanted to talk about calling off the engagement. Have you really made up your mind?"
Allegra lifted her eyes to meet his, her eyes reddening slightly as she nodded. "Yes. I've made up my mind."
That's what she said, but inside, resentment churned.
How could she possibly call off the engagement?
The Wipere family was falling apart. She had to hold on tight to the Grayson family's lifeline!
But Marshall was growing more and more impatient with her. This was her only move—retreat to advance.
Her expression remained soft and tender, full of grievance as she slid the agreement across the table to him. Then she picked up the diary from beside it and gently placed it next to the agreement.
"These are things I've been writing lately. You can take them back and read them if you want. Or don't. Just think of it as… a keepsake."
Her eyes brimmed with tears, and when she looked at Marshall, she looked utterly pitiful.
Allegra sneered inwardly.
She didn't believe for a second that Marshall wouldn't soften when he saw all this.
Sure enough, Marshall's gaze fell on the diary, and he raised his brows in mild surprise.
He reached out and picked it up, flipping to the first page. It was covered in densely written words—all declarations of Allegra's love for him.
He flipped through a few more pages, and for a brief moment, something stirred in his chest. "These things you wrote…"
"And this." Allegra cut him off, picking up the gray scarf and placing it near his hand. "I knitted it. It's not very good, but winter's coming. You can wear it when you go out in the mornings and evenings. After I'm not around anymore, make sure you dress warmly."
Her voice was soft, with just the right touch of hoarseness, carrying a note that tugged at the heartstrings.
Marshall looked down at the scarf. The stitches really weren't very neat—there were a few missed loops, and the edges had loose threads hanging off them.
But in that moment, looking at the scarf, an image rose in his mind: her sitting under a lamp, knitting it stitch by painstaking stitch. Clumsy, but earnest.
His Adam's apple bobbed. When he spoke, his voice was lower than before. "Have you really thought this through?"
Allegra lifted her eyes to his, the moisture in them catching the light just so.
She nodded. "Yes. It's better for both of us this way. You don't have to force yourself, and I don't have to…"
She didn't finish. She lowered her head, tears threatening to fall.
Marshall watched her downcast lashes, watched the way her lips pressed together slightly, and suddenly felt something hard and unyielding in his chest begin to loosen, bit by bit.
He opened his mouth, about to say something, when his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen. It was a work call. After a moment's hesitation, he answered it.
While Marshall turned aside to take the call, Allegra's fingers slipped discreetly into her bag, her fingertips brushing against a small packet of clear powder.
Her movements were swift. The packet of powder landed precisely in Marshall's untouched glass of lemonade.
The white powder dissolved instantly—no bubbles, no trace, as if nothing had happened at all.
When Marshall hung up and turned back, his brow was still slightly furrowed. His gaze settled on her face, his tone tinged with renewed hesitation. "Where were we?"
"Nowhere." Allegra smiled faintly and pushed the glass of lemonade closer to his hand. "Have some water. Once we're done here, you should go."
Marshall nodded and picked up the glass, taking a sip.
The drug worked fast. In less than three minutes, Marshall's eyes started to lose focus.
He shook his head as if trying to stay alert, but his eyelids were already drooping.
Allegra's eyes lit up. She stood, supporting his arm, her voice tender. "You're tired. Let me help you rest for a bit."
She helped him out of the café and into the lobby of the hotel next door. The elevator ascended. The doors closed behind her.
Her fingers tightened slightly around his arm, but the gentle expression on her face didn't waver. She whispered in his ear, "Marshall, you'll remember this."
Early the next morning.
Marshall slowly opened his eyes, a hangover-like headache and the dryness in his throat making him furrow his brow.
The next second, he felt someone beside him.
He whipped his head around and saw Allegra curled up under the blanket, tear tracks still visible at the corners of her eyes, her lashes damp as if she'd been crying.
Her shoulder was exposed, a faint red mark visible on her skin.
Marshall's mind exploded with a deafening buzz.
He sat up, looked down at himself, then at the woman beside him, shock written all over his face.
"Allegra." His voice was tight. "I…"
Allegra slowly opened her eyes, and they instantly reddened.
She covered her body, marked with red traces, and turned her face away as if she didn't want him to see her expression.
Marshall looked at her restrained demeanor, and his heart clenched as if something had seized it hard.
He remembered the divorce agreement she'd pushed across the table to him last night. He remembered that clumsily knitted scarf. He remembered her eyes full of hurt.
And now this had happened…
Almost instantly, he pulled Allegra into his arms. "Allegra, we're not calling off the engagement."
His voice was hoarse, but every word was firm. "The engagement party will go on as planned. Allegra, I'm sorry. Before, I…"
Allegra whipped her head around to look at him, tears streaming down her face, her voice trembling. "Marshall, you don't have to apologize. I…"
"I'll take responsibility." He gripped her hand, his gaze resolute. "I'll treat you well. Everything that happened before—it's in the past. We'll start over."