Breaking Mr. Cold (Giselle and Donovan) novel Chapter 698

"I was doing you a favor!" Marselle snapped.

She was furious and wounded, kept provoking him as if she had lost all sense of self-preservation.

"Isn't she your precious ex-lover? You think I don't know you pine after her day and night? You can't eat, you can't sleep, and you even called her name instead of mine in bed. Since you love her so much, I made your wish come true. I brought her here for your birthday. That's my gift to you."

"Shut up!"

"No, I won't!" Marselle glared right back at him, her tone turning even sharper as she pressed on. "What a shame. You saw it for yourself today. She doesn't even remember your birthday. I bet you've memorized hers down to the hour, buying her thoughtful gifts every single year. And her? Look at how she treats you."

Gideon's jaw tightened until the veins stood out. Rage pulsed through him so hard he looked moments away from snapping her neck.

"You gave so much for her," Marselle continued, relentlessly. "You stayed by her side for an entire year, practically devoted your life to her. And what happened when she came back to life?

"The first person she looked for was Donovan. Not once—never once—did she put you, the pathetic lap dog who worshipped her, in her heart. She never loved you. Not for a single second. You're nothing but a pathetic lapdog she's always despised!"

"Shut up!"

Her final jab detonated something inside him. Gideon shoved her violently to the floor and roared, "Get out! Get out now!"

Marselle only laughed coldly despite the pain. "You're lashing out because you can't stand the truth. The more unhinged you are, the clearer it is how desperately you can't accept defeat. You're a coward who can't let go and can't move on."

He kicked a chair across the room, sending it crashing against the wall.

Then he stalked to the window, lit a cigarette, and exhaled hard, forcing himself to steady his breathing. Smoke drifted out into the night air.

"I told you, I'm rotten," he snapped. "A completely rotten man. I don't want to ruin your life. Go. And don't come back."

"Then tell me," Marselle cried, her voice breaking. "What do I lack compared to Giselle? Why are you so obsessed with her? She belongs to someone else now. She's pregnant. Do you actually think you still have a chance?"

By the time Marselle got the words out, she was on the verge of falling apart. Her voice cracked into something almost hysterical. "If you think I'm not as pretty as her, I can fix my face. I can make myself look exactly like her. Would that finally be enough for you?"

"Don't be insane." Gideon forcibly unclasped her arms and walked to the opposite end of the room. "My private feelings have nothing to do with you. Stop prying into my life. And don't bother her again. Starting today, we are done."

Marselle stood there, stunned into silence. His cruelty, laid bare beside his hopeless devotion to Giselle, made her chest twist with sharp, stabbing pain.

She had been the most cherished daughter of a powerful family for more than 20 years—spoiled, protected, and doted on by three older brothers. She had never imagined she would end up losing her heart to a man like Gideon—a man who wasn't even legitimate enough to be made known.