Chapter 206

"Can I kiss you?" Myron asked again.

Millie's heart pounded.

His hand still rested on her face. She could feel the warmth of his palm and the soft brush of his breath against her cheek.

She lifted her eyes to his.

"Yes," she whispered.

Before the word had fully left her lips, his mouth found hers.

His breath mingled with hers as their hearts seemed to beat in sync.

That was the moment Brandon arrived.

From where he stood, he saw Millie in the passenger seat. Myron leaned over her, lost in a kiss.

Her hand rested lightly on Myron's shoulder. Her slender arm stood in sharp contrast to his broad frame.

Brandon's eyes widened. Rage surged in him.

He stepped out of the car but was stopped at once. Myron's security team held him back and quickly pulled him away.

They also took his Maybach.

Back in the Bentley, Myron had already let Millie go.

She leaned into him, catching her breath, her hand still on his shoulder and her forehead resting against his chest.

Myron let out a soft chuckle. The sound vibrated through his chest, making her cheeks burn hotter.

He noticed the change in her and gently stroked her häir, and then patted her back.

"Millie,I really like you like this," he murmured. His voice was low and rough.

The kiss earlier outside his house had been a briëf touch. This one was their first real kiss.

He had held back, unsure if she wás ready.

Now he felt sure. She meant it. She wasn't doing this just to spite Brandon

The thought filled him with excitement.

1f he couuld skip to their wedding day, he would. But he knew he had to hold back and be patient.

At least now,they were truly together.

After a moment, Millie gave him a playful shove. Myron smiled and leaned back, releasing her.

"I need to go home," she said softly.

"Okay," he replied.

Before she could say anything more, he added, "Sorry I can't walk you up today."

She paused, confused for a second. Then her cheeks flushed with understanding.

She pushed him back into his seat and gave a small, teasing snort.

Without another word, she unbuckled her seatbelt, picked up her bag, and stepped out.

Just before heading into the building, she leaned back toward him.、"Drive safe,"she said.

He nodded, smiling. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she replied, then turned and walked away.

He stayed parked until he saw the lights in her apartment turn on. She stepped out onto the balcony and waved. Only then did he flash the car lights in reply and drive off.

As the Bentley passed Brandon and his Maybach, Myron glanced toward him coldly. He didn't say a word as he sped away.

Brandon stood motionless. His rágë burned, but beneath it was something worse-helplessness.

Everything was falling apart.

He could convince himself that the kiss outside the Elliott Mansion might have beert Millie's way to spite him. But the one she shared with Myron in the car just now had been real.

She had truly let go of him.

She had truly started over.

Brandon couldn't lie to himself anymore.

His chest ached. The world around him seemed to collapse.

"Let me go," Brandon said.

Myron's men still held him.

"I won't go to her," he said.

He had seen them. Myron had guards posted at the entrance of the apartment building.

Only then did they release him.

Brandon got back into his car: A strong urge rose in him to tell Millie everything. But the memory of that day came rushing back, and he bit it back.

He turned the car around and drove.

The Maybach sped down empty streets, Brandon had no idea where he was headed.

All he felt was the sharp pain in his chest, as if something inside him was cracking, piece by piece.

Tears ran down his face. He had never cried like this before.

One thought echoed in his mind-"She really left me."

She truly left him.

The truth had never hit so hard.

He felt like he was losing his mind.

When he finally looked up, he realized he had arrived at Serenity Villa. It was the house they moved into after getting married.

Images of their wedding day filled his head. Her white dress. Her smile. The way her eyes had seen only him.

He stepped out and walked into the villa.

The light switch clicked under his fingers.

But the house was empty.

Everything she had picked out was gone. Only his things remained.

Brandon closed his eyes, as if doing so could stop the pain.

Memories of their wedding night returned. They had come back here while the others stayed behind. He had carried her inside and then set her on the kitchen counter.

"Want a drink?" he had asked with a grin.

"Sure," she had said, smiling at him.

He had opened the fridge, pulled out the bubbly champagne, and poured her a glass.

She had taken it, laughing, and sipped. Brandon had then kissed her, tasting the champagne from her lips.

Now,Brandon walked into the kitchen. He opened the fridge. Only his beers remained.

He closed it and made his way to the bedroom.

That night, she had teased him with playful hits, but he had carried her all the way here.

The bedroom light flicked on.

It had been empty for a long time.

He lay down on the bed. Alone now. Staring up at the blank ceiling.

Tears slipped down his face again. Then a new fear gripped him.

If she married Myron,would she do everything with him,too?

His chesttightened. His breath grew shallow. Panic surged.

1t took time to calm down, and when he did, he felt drained.

The pain had dulled into something heavy.

He wiped the tears from his eyes and leaned back against the headboard.

His gaze landed on the bedside lamp. He turned it on. Then, slowly, he opened the drawer. Inside,something caught his eye.

He frowned and reached in.

The first thing he pulled out was a small perfume bottle he had given her.

He removed the cap and sprayed a little into the air. The scent still clung to her memory.

His chest ached.

He closed his eyes and set the bottle on the nightstand.

There was more in the drawer. He reached in again and found something small and round.

He lifted it into the light. It was her wedding ring. The one he had placed on her finger.

Under the glow of the lamp, it shimmered with a cold, metallic gleam.