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Chapter 15
“Priscilla!”
His hand was already swollen high and extremely painful at the moment.
Angelo ignored the heavy rain and ran a few steps to catch up with that figure. The continuous raindrops fell along the umbrella ribs, separating the two people like a gap that could never be crossed again.
“I, I got hurt, can you take me to the hospital?”
He raised his dark purple right hand, trying to soften Priscilla’s heart.
Priscilla’s gaze fell on his hands, without saying a word.
The lights in the emergency room at Radren Central Hospital were glaringly white.
Angelo was lying in the hospital bed with a bandage wrapped around his right hand – that was the injury he got from punching Tyrell.
Priscilla stood by the bed, mechanically flipping through the test reports, her voice calm as if discussing the
weather.
“The phalanx has a slight fracture, just rest for two weeks.”
She closed the medical record book and turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist tightly with his left hand.
“Priscilla,” Angelo’s voice was hoarse, “I just realized… I’ve always loved you, I just didn’t dare to admit it.” His eyes were red, as if he was about to pour out all the emotions he had suppressed for years.
“Miley was just an obsession, but you… you were the one I was afraid of losing.”
Priscilla looked down at his bulging veins on his hand and suddenly laughed.
r “Angelo, your love was really cheap,” she said, prying open his fingers one by one. “For three years you ignored me, until you found out I was Prissie and suddenly ‘loved’ me?”
The rain outside was getting heavier, making her voice sound particularly clear.
“If I was just Priscilla my whole life, would I never deserve your respect?”
Angelo was struck by lightning, and the blood in the IV tube flowed back halfway due to his violent shaking
At the corner of the hospital corridor, a man wearing a duckbill cap put down his camera and made a phone
call.
“Ms. Garcia, we got evidence that they are getting back together.’
Chapter 15
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Chapter 10
AL3 am, Angelo’s phone was batzzing like crazy.
Miley sent a photo of her wrist cut, blood staining the edge of the bathtub, with a note saying, “Goodbye,
Angelo.”
He suddenly sat up, his fingers shaking uncontrollably.
Even though he saw her true colors, years of responsibility still made it hard for him to turn a blind eye.
Twenty minutes later, he kicked open Miley’s apartment door, only to find her sitting on the sofa with exquisite makeup, with only a shallow scratch on her wrist.
“You lied to me again,” he said, his voice as cold as ice.
Miley laughed and shook her wine glass, “If not, would you still come to see me?”
Angelo turned around to leave, but suddenly felt dizzy.
The water that was handed to him was drugged.
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