Chapter 74 What Is Your Relationship?

Chapter 74 What Is Your Relationship?

He let out a cold laugh, his eyes looking at her like she was someone who couldn't read the room. "When did I ever admit I had a girlfriend? As for Stella, does that woman even qualify?"

Giselle froze completely.

Valentin watched her dazed expression, a flash of satisfaction crossing his eyes, then he dropped an even heavier bombshell in a measured tone, "The day after you resigned from the Dobbins Group, I kicked them out of the villa."

They were... kicked out?

Giselle's mind went blank.

She had always thought they were still living comfortably and luxuriously at The Dobbins Mansion, thought Stella was definitely going to become Valentin's wife, which was why they were so eager to make her disappear.

But he was saying they'd been kicked out long ago?

Where did they go?

The moment this thought surfaced in Giselle's mind, she pushed it down with self-mockery.

She had no right to care where they went. They treated her like an enemy, wished she would disappear from the world. Her reaction now made it seem like she still cared about them.

But they were her mother and sister after all.

That relationship of over twenty years, even if insincere, had become a deeply rooted habit.

Valentin caught that fleeting trace of worry and confusion on her face, his brow furrowing.

He didn't understand why she could still show such emotion when that mother and daughter had treated her that way.

"You're worried about them?" His voice turned cold, with a hint of irritation in his tone.

Giselle was caught off guard by his question. She instinctively denied it, "No."

"Then what's with that look on your face?" Valentin stepped closer, his gaze sharp. "Giselle, I thought you'd learned your lesson, that you wouldn't forget the pain once the wound healed."

His words were like a thorn, stabbing straight into her heart. She turned her face away, her voice muffled, "No matter how bad they are, they're still..."

"Still what?" Valentin interrupted her, a probing look in his eyes. "Stella has the same last name as you." He paused, finally voicing the suspicion that had been lingering in his mind for a long time. "Are you sisters?"

The question hit like a thunderbolt. Giselle's whole body stiffened.

Just as she was about to speak, about to admit that shameful and exhausting relationship, urgent knocking suddenly came from the door.

"Ms. Montague, are you home? Open the door!" A middle-aged woman's voice rang out anxiously from outside. "My kitchen drain is clogged again, water's flooding into the living room, please come help me look at it!"

This sudden interruption broke the tense atmosphere between them.

Giselle grabbed this chance to escape, immediately walking around Valentin to open the door.

Standing outside was Simone from downstairs, looking like she was about to cry.

Dealing with neighbors was Giselle's strong suit. She calmed Simone down with a few words, quickly found the drain-clearing tools from the shoe cabinet, and followed Simone downstairs.

Valentin stood at the door, watching her in her thin knit sweater, holding crude tools, skillfully communicating with the neighbor. Her appearance now was completely different from the meticulous chief secretary in the office, the one who wouldn't yield an inch at the negotiating table, that he remembered.

Here there was no Dobbins Group halo, no expensive business attire, just an ordinary girl running around dealing with life's trivial matters.

More than ten minutes later, Giselle finally came back up. Her forehead had a thin layer of sweat, her face couldn't hide her exhaustion.

She had handled the neighbor's trouble, and had also used up her last bit of energy.

She looked at Valentin still standing in her living room, feeling completely drained.

"Mr. Dobbins, it's late." She made it very clear, her tone no longer confrontational like before, only heavy with fatigue. "I have to work tomorrow, I want to rest."

Valentin looked at her pale face and the faint dark circles under her eyes. The inexplicable anger in his heart suddenly died down.

He was silent for a moment, then said involuntarily, "That was hard work."

Giselle was stunned, but didn't respond.

"These old buildings, a lot of things are inconvenient." He surveyed the small room that could be seen in one glance, making that suggestion again. "Move, I'll find you a better place."

"Not happening." Giselle refused without thinking.

She looked at him, finally showing a hint of emotion in her eyes—a kind of almost stubborn insistence.

This small room was the only space in this city that truly belonged to her, and her last fortress to isolate herself from the outside world.

Valentin looked at her, knowing that no matter what he said, she wouldn't listen.

He didn't push further. He looked at her deeply, picked up his coat from the sofa, and walked toward the door.

The moment his hand touched the doorknob, he stopped, dropping a line without looking back, "Tomorrow morning, don't be late."

The lock clicked softly, the door closed, and the presence he left behind was shut outside.

Giselle slid down weakly onto the carpet, her strength seeming to drain away.

She buried her face in her knees, her mind in chaos.

Susan and Stella had been kicked out. They had no money, where would they go? How would they live?

This thought tormented her, making her restless. Then another buried memory surged up.

She remembered when she was little, on Stella's birthday, Susan would buy big, fancy cakes; but on her birthday, at most there would be a simple bowl of noodles for dinner.

She remembered studying desperately, getting first place, sending all her scholarships and part-time job wages home, just hoping to earn a word of praise from Susan. But Susan would take the money and immediately buy Stella a new dress.

She had always thought that if she was good enough, responsible enough, and considerate enough, she could change that heart that had never drawn close to her.

But it wasn't until that day, when Susan pointed at her nose and cursed her for having bad intentions, for trying to steal her sister's man, that she finally saw clearly.

In Susan's eyes, Stella was the only person she cared about; and she was just an outsider who needed constant guarding against and could be discarded at any time.

She and they had never been family.

Giselle let out a long breath, as if finally lifting a weight that had been pressing on her heart.

Whether that mother and daughter lived or died, from now on, it had nothing to do with her.

That night, Giselle slept very restlessly, her dreams full of fragmented scenes.

Sometimes it was Valentin's cold questioning, other times Susan's harsh cursing.

The next morning, she walked out with deep dark circles under her eyes, exhaustion written all over her face, ready to catch the rush hour subway.

She had just pulled open the door when her steps suddenly stopped.

The corridor was dimly lit in the early morning.

Valentin was standing at her door, still wearing that black coat from yesterday, his figure upright, his manner cool, completely out of place in this shabby hallway.

In his hand was a steaming hot breakfast.