So, she pawned the vintage gemstone necklace her mother left her, which had never left her side, to her friend who had always wanted it. In return, she got this plane ticket and three days’ worth of living expenses, chasing after Neil to Las Vegas to force him to hand over the last piece of property.
It was the dowry her father prepared for her, and he actually sneakily used her ID and household registration to transfer ownership, making it his property! It was her sweet haven, the only sweet memory her father left her… the only place she could call home!
“Miss.” The man sitting beside her gently patted her arm.
She turned her head, looking at him with cold, amber eyes. This was a man in his thirties, average-looking, with a friendly smile.
“This is my business card.” He handed over a card tinted with a light gold color.
Amy glanced at it and continued looking out the window.
“You’re Amy, Stephen’s daughter.” The man continued, unperturbed.
Amy turned her head again, slightly furrowed her brows, staring at him indifferently. Was she going to be harassed by a debt collector even on the plane?
“I’m Frank Richter, had some business dealings with your father.”
“In that case, you should be sitting in first class.” Amy coolly interrupted him, brushed her long hair, and closed her eyes.
“Heh.” Frank didn’t mind at all; he smiled and gently tucked the business card into her bag. “I’m going to Las Vegas this time to organize a matchmaking event for the wealthy. If you’re interested, you can give me a call. They are all very influential people.”
Matchmaking for the wealthy, is it some form of prostitution? God, what does this man take her for? Does he think she has fallen so low that she needs to rely on a man to survive?
Amy turned her face to the other side, not bothering to open her eyes. She treated him as if he were air.
Midway through the flight, after 39 hours of traveling, they finally arrived in Las Vegas, and Frank, being self-aware, didn’t bother her again.
Once out of the airport, Amy looked up at the sky. It was still night here, with countless stars and a high-hanging quiet moon, but it gave her an extreme sense of unfamiliarity and loneliness.
She tightly grasped her small suitcase, felt for the pepper spray in her pocket, hailed a taxi, and went straight to the casino hotel.
After booking a room, she didn’t even drop off her luggage and went straight into the casino. In the brightly lit hall, she went table by table, section by section, tapping the shoulders of every man who resembled Neil.
Two hours passed, and she returned to the entrance. Surveying the vast hall with disappointment, she turned around. The intel was wrong; she didn’t find that man.
Suddenly, her eyes widened, fixed on a lean man leisurely entering through the main door. His hand was around the waist of a girl. The girl had a bob cut, and when she smiled, she looked cute and obedient.
“Sweetheart,” he lowered his head, kissing the girl’s face, and she giggled.
“Neil.” She tightened her grip on the suitcase, moving towards him step by step, calling out stiffly.
Neil raised his head abruptly, staring at her in bewilderment.
“Give me back my house.”
She reached out her hand towards him, desperately maintaining her composure, not getting angry, not crying…
“What are you doing? What house? Don’t come here acting crazy. We’ve already broken up.” Neil furrowed his brows, looking around, a bit impatient.
“Are you even a man? If you are, give back my house. That’s the house my dad left me.” Amy’s lips started trembling uncontrollably. Her watery eyes stared straight at Neil.
“You’re talking nonsense.” Neil pulled a face, rudely saying, “What house? Don’t come here being hysterical. We’ve already broken up.”
Unable to bear it any longer, Amy grabbed Neil, roaring, “Neil, you can’t be so shameless. Don’t forget, when you just graduated from college, you were worthless.”
“Madwoman!” Neil, caught off guard, changed his expression, shouted angrily, and forcefully shook her off.
Amy’s high heels twisted unexpectedly, and she, along with her suitcase, tumbled to the ground. Excruciating pain radiated from her ankle, hitting her heart like a heavy hammer.
Tears uncontrollably streamed down her face.
Was this the man who queued for three hours in the rain to get her favorite drink? Was this the man who wrote long poems for her? Where was the romance? Where were the vows?
Suddenly, Neil and the girl covered their eyes and screamed. Amy, holding onto the suitcase frame, raised the pepper spray high in her hand, pressing it against them with force.
“Madwoman, no one wants you, right?” Neil roared, cursing loudly.