Chapter 17: Mutual Respect–2
To him, my meager salary was insignificant, barely enough for one of his extravagant meals at upscale restaurants. Worse, it was clear that he never respected my career.
remembered how when I once excitedly told Ethan I won a sizable five–million dollar case, he had sneered, “Our company signs contracts worth tens of millions without blinking; five million is small fry. Why bother slaving away? Just quit, I’ll support you.”
Since then, I never shared anything work–related with him again. I now realized he only liked my looks and body, never truly my soul or aspirations.
Our relationship was shallow, all about pleasure, never about growth or understanding. By contrast, standing beside Connor, I felt genuinely appreciated and respected for the first time,
sensing he might be the kind of partner who truly values me.
As we exited the courthouse, Connor’s phone rang. He answered it briefly, his expression growing serious.
“That was Henry,” he said after hanging up, his face darkening. “The bottled water you received
was laced with a heavy dose of toxins.”
My amber eyes flashed coldly. “I guessed as much.”
“Do you want me to handle it?” Connor asked, his tone suggesting he was more than willing to
take action.
I shook my head. “No need. I’ll just add this to the ledger–I’ll settle it personally when the time
comes.”
We both knew that although the test result was clear, there was no direct evidence pointing to Cassandra. Reporting it would be pointless. Since this was a private vendetta, it would be
repaid in kind, privately.
The next few days passed in a pleasant blur. Connor extended his stay in Harbor City, and we
spent our time exploring the city together.
One evening, I took him to a small restaurant known for its spicy venison. I’d been craving it
for weeks.
“This is amazing,” I said, savoring the rich flavors. “The spice blend is perfect.”
Connor nodded, though sweat beaded on his forehead. He wasn’t used to such heat, but he
stubbornly finished every bite.
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< Chapter 17 Mutual Respect–2
“You don’t have to force yourself,” I laughed, passing him a glass of water.
“I’m not forcing anything,” he insisted, though his face was flushed. “It’s good.”
+25 Puntos
We visited Harbor City’s famous botanical gardens the next day, taking countless photos among the exotic blooms. Connor insisted on capturing me beside a particularly stunning display of moonflowers.
“They match your eyes,” he said softly, referring to the amber centers of the white blossoms.
We toured the Harbor City Museum of Natural History, where Connor surprised me with his
extensive knowledge of werewolf artifacts and ancient pack territories.
“How do you know so much about this?” I asked as he explained the significance of a
centuries–old territorial map.
He shrugged. “I’ve always been interested in our history. Understanding where we came from
helps guide where we’re going.”
Compared to my three years with Ethan Grey, these few days with Connor felt richer, warmer,
and far more fulfilling. The quiet companionship and mutual respect slowly began to heal the
wounds in my heart.
On our fifth day together, we visited a scenic overlook that provided a breathtaking view of
Harbor City. The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the skyline, making the buildings
shimmer.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathed, taking in the panorama.
“Yes, it is,” Connor agreed, though when I glanced at him, he wasn’t looking at the view but at
My phone chimed with a message notification. Connor was holding it to help me take photos
of the cityscape.
His ice–blue eyes suddenly turned glacial as he looked at the screen.
“What is it?” I asked, noticing the change in his expression.
He didn’t answer immediately, his jaw tightening. When he finally handed me the phone, I saw a message from Ethan Grey: “Are you done with your tantrum yet?”
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