Chapter 859

However, swiftly his mind wove an alternate narrative — Millie’s words were a fabrication tailored for

his ears.

“Millie, I implore you, refrain from falsehoods. You must have made up it to decline my advances. Rest

assured, I am no fleeting fancy. Henceforth, I commit to the earnest pursuit of your affections.”

Once more, Roland stepped forward, his demeanor radiating unwavering assurance.

Silent and exasperated, Millie’s eyes rolled, as though reading a tedious book.

“Distance yourself,” she commanded, Seeing the irritation etched on her face, Roland retreated, fearing

her wrath.

“Your wish is my command. I’ll obey you, henceforth,” he said, feeling like a miscreant caught in the

act.

Helpless, Millie felt shadowed by a relentless hunter.

With Millie’s rejection echoing in the air, Roland’s grasp on the flower seemed burdensome, prompting

him to relinquish it to the winds. Despite its origins as a precious creation nurtured by Delia’s care, he

cast it aside without hesitation.

“Roland, what are you doing?”

A N G E L A ‘s L I B R A R Y

Abruptly, a furious exclamation pierced the air from behind. It was Laurel who strode forth, her gaze

falling upon the discarded blooms that adorned the ground, a disapproving furrow knitting her brows.

Moments ago, Delia emerged, kettle in hand, ready to nourish her cherished blooms. Alas, her intent

was foiled by the sight of their defacement, evoking an outburst of indignant curses.

“By what audacity were my flowers plucked? May your path lead you to the depths of damnation. You

wretched scoundrel!”

Truly, the rustic woman displayed a marked lack of refinement. Speechless, Laurel interjected, “Halt.

Roland is the one responsible, likely seeking to win Millie’s favor with these flowers.”

On comprehension, Delia’s impulse was to administer a self-inflicted slap, a wish to undo her prior

utterance.

“What’s the good in this? How can Millie ever favor him after his past venom? Fetch your brother

before he’s a laughingstock,” she urged Laurel.

Ergo, she sought out Roland.

“Why are you lingering here? Return from where you came. Refrain from intruding upon our affairs.”

Upon catching sight of her, Roland promptly gestured, apprehensive of her potential disruption to his

interaction with Millie.

At the sound of Laurel’s voice, Millie pivoted, her countenance bearing a frown as her gaze settled

upon her.

The duo locked gazes, their expressions marred by an air of palpable hostility.

Millie’s eyes brimmed with contempt, while Laurel’s jealousy manifested in the subtle pinch of her palm.

Millie had wedded Marcus, a scion of a family even mightier than the Morgans, a fact that ignited a

green flame within Laurel.

Impatience was etched across Laurel’s demeanor.