“That’s absolutely right,” Vance replied matter–of–factly.
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“But the temperature in the cabin is so low. I’m freezing,” Catherine whined, her arms fully exposed in the sleeveless dress.
Vance, who had brought a jacket with him, immediately removed it and draped it gently over her shoulders. “Here, you can wear my jacket instead.”
From the corner of her eye, Rebecca noticed the smug, triumphant glance that Catherine directed her way, but she kept her focus firmly on the pages of her book, offering no reaction whatsoever.
But evidently, Catherine had no intention of leaving Rebecca alone. She leaned over slightly and whispered, “You wouldn’t mind if I wore Vance’s jacket for a bit, would you?”
She put on an expression of exaggerated apprehension and vulnerability, as if bracing for disapproval,
Rebecca found the whole display rather amusing. Who exactly was this performance intended for, her or Vance?
She looked up with a smirk. “Not at all.”
She had already relinquished any claim on the man, so what significance could a mere jacket possibly hold?
“I appreciate your understanding,” Catherine said, her voice dripping with feigned gratitude.
“You’re welcome,” Rebecca replied curtly, turning back to her book.
“Cathy,” Vance called out.
Rebecca had no idea what kind of look he had given Catherine, but she heard Catherine whisper, “I want to get along with Rebecca. That way, when you come home, she will treat you better.”
Rebecca’s mind went momentarily blank at the absurdity of it all Words like these seemed straight out of a melodramatic novel, where a gullible male protagonist got easily manipulated.
It sounded like a compliment, but the mockery gleaming in her eyes was unmistakable. “I never knew you read French. Aren’t you an art student by background?


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