Chapter 175: Flowers From The Wrong Man

Chapter 174: A Bouquet of Lies

Chapter 175: A Bouquet of Lies

ANNA SERRANO

A soft knock landed on my door, pulling me out of the quiet rhythm of my thoughts.

I sat curled on the couch in my room, my laptop open in front of me, fingers moving across the keyboard as I worked. Writing, reviewing, editing—anything to keep my mind occupied. It had become my routine lately. A way to drown out memories I didn’t want to revisit.

And surprisingly… it had been working.

Life had been calm.

Peaceful.

And most importantly—free of chaos.

No Donovan.

No Whitmore.

No past crawling its way back into my present.

Just me.

Another knock sounded, sharper this time, snapping me fully out of my focus.

“Come in,” I called, my tone firm but absent-minded.

The door creaked open, and I glanced up to see one of the maids step inside. She stood respectfully by the door, hands clasped in front of her.

“Miss Serrano,” she began, “you have a package outside. Should we bring it in?”

A package?

My brows furrowed slightly.

Immediately, a name surfaced in my mind.

Abel.

I suppressed a groan, irritation prickling under my skin. Of course, it would be him. Just when my life had finally settled into something manageable—something peaceful—he decided to reappear.

Does he ever get tired?

“What's in it?” I asked, my voice laced with faint suspicion.

“It appears to be flowers, ma’am… and some other items we couldn’t identify.”

I paused.

Flowers?

That… didn’t sound like Abel.

He wasn’t thoughtful like that. Not when it came to me. Not when it mattered.

Which meant—

“Christopher…” I murmured under my breath.

A small smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it.

Of course, it was him.

Christopher had always loved surprising me. Flowers, gifts, little gestures that showed he paid attention—details that mattered. Unlike…

I pushed that thought away.

“What kind of flowers?” I asked, my tone shifting, softer now. “They’re not the ones I’m allergic to, right?”

“No, ma’am. They are your favorite.”

My smile widened, warmth spreading through my chest.

Definitely Christopher.

“Bring it in,” I said, sitting up straighter, excitement slipping into my voice.

I closed my laptop and set it aside, suddenly unable to focus on anything else. My foot tapped lightly against the floor as I waited, anticipation building in a way that felt… nice.

It had been a while since I felt like this.

A few minutes later, the door opened again.

The maids walked in carefully, carrying a large arrangement of flowers, a basket, and neatly wrapped packages. The moment I saw them, a delighted squeal escaped my lips before I could contain it.

“Oh my God…”

I stood quickly, moving toward them as they placed everything on the table.

The flowers were stunning—fresh, vibrant, arranged beautifully. My favorite.

I took them into my hands, bringing them closer to inhale their soft, comforting scent. My eyes fluttered shut briefly.

Perfect.

“Thank you,” I said absentmindedly as the maids quietly excused themselves and left the room.

The door clicked shut, leaving me alone with the gifts.

I wasted no time.

Carefully, I began going through everything—my favorite snacks, little treats I always craved, and then…

A jewelry box.

I opened it slowly.

Inside sat a delicate piece—elegant, refined, exactly my style. My colors. My taste.

A soft laugh slipped from my lips.

“Wow… Christopher really outdid himself this time.”

I shook my head, impressed. He never missed.

Reaching for my phone, I intended to call him immediately—to thank him, tease him, something—

But then I noticed it.

A white envelope, slightly tucked between the flowers.

“Oh… he even wrote a letter?”

A smile tugged at my lips again.

Of course he did.

I set my phone down and picked it up, fingers brushing over the smooth paper. It was beautifully designed—simple but elegant. Aesthetic.

I loved things like this.

Carefully, I opened it.

And then—

I froze.

My breath caught.

The handwriting.

My eyes narrowed slightly as recognition hit me like a slap.

No.

There was no way.

I scanned the first few lines, my heart beginning to pound.

Anna…

My grip tightened on the paper.

Abel.

The name echoed in my mind, sharp and unwelcome.

My expression hardened as I continued reading.

I know I made mistakes… I know I hurt you… but please, let’s talk. This isn’t about the company or the business anymore. It’s about us. You said if I looked into things myself—if I saw the truth—we could talk. I have. Please… stop ignoring me.

A scoff left my lips before I could stop it.

Without hesitation, I flung the letter across the room.

It landed somewhere near the couch, crumpled and discarded.

My chest rose and fell unevenly.

I turned slowly, staring at the flowers in my hands like they had suddenly become something foreign.

How?

How did he know?

My favorite flowers.

My favorite snacks.

Even the jewelry—my taste.

During our marriage, Abel hadn’t known any of this.

Not once.

Not when it mattered.

So how did he suddenly know now?

What kind of game was he playing?

My jaw clenched.

Annoyance bubbled up again, sharper this time.

I reached for the basket again, rummaging through it with less enthusiasm—until I spotted another envelope tucked inside.

Of course.

I pulled it out, already irritated.

Opening it, I skimmed through quickly.

Anna, I hope you like these. Please… just give me a chance to talk.

I rolled my eyes.

“So cheesy,” I muttered under my breath before tossing it aside like the first one.

Just like that, the excitement I had felt moments ago vanished completely.

Replaced with irritation.

And something else I refused to name.

My appetite was gone.

My mood—ruined.

I turned away from the table, running a hand through my hair in frustration.

And then—

My phone rang.

The sudden sound cut through the silence of the room.

I glanced at it.

Unknown number.

But I already knew.

Of course.

For a second, I considered ignoring it.

But then… I sighed and picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Anna!”

His voice came through immediately—hoarse, almost desperate.

“Is it really you? Thank God you picked up. I’ve been trying to reach you—”

“What is it, Abel?” I cut in, my tone flat.

There was a brief pause on the other end before he spoke again.

“Please… let’s meet. Let’s just talk.”

I leaned back against the table, closing my eyes briefly.

“I know everything now,” he continued quickly. “The truth. I… I was wrong. About so many things. I don’t care about the company anymore. I don’t care about any of that. I just want to talk about us.”

A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

Of course.

Now he knew.

Now he cared.

Now he wanted to talk.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Abel,” I said plainly.

Silence.

Then—

“You said…” his voice dropped, quieter now. “You said that if I saw the truth—if I opened my eyes—you would talk to me.”

I let out a small, humorless laugh.

“I never promised anything,” I replied. “I just said it.”

Another pause.

This one longer.

He exhaled slowly.

“I won’t take much of your time,” he said, his voice softer now. “Just… give me a chance.”

I hesitated.

My fingers tightened slightly around the phone.

A part of me wanted to hang up.

To block him.

To shut this door completely and never look back.

But another part—

The rational part—

Whispered something else.

Closure.

Maybe hat was all this would be.

And maybe… it wouldn’t hurt to hear him out.

Once.

Just once.

I sighed.

“I’ll think about it,” I said finally. “I’ll reach out to you.”

Before he could say anything else—

I ended the call.

The room fell silent again.

But this time…

It didn’t feel as peaceful as before.