Chapter 86: Tell me if it’s sour

Chapter 86: Tell me if it’s sour "I never expected anything from you," Tiffany gazed at Arlo with unwavering seriousness in her eyes. "Arlo, the breakup hit me hard. I really need more time to think things through." She and Arlo had grown up together, childhood sweethearts since they could remember. By the time they graduated high school, getting together felt as natural as breathing. In her entire romantic life, there had only ever been Arlo. Yet, not long after he started working, he blindsided her with a breakup. When she went looking for answers, she found him laughing carefree, hand in hand with another girl. That period was the darkest Chapter of Tiffany’s life—one she never wanted to revisit. Thankfully, Camilla had been there to pull her through. Of course, she was happy that Arlo had returned to her. But fear lingered too. The pain of losing him once had been unbearable. The thought of going through that again terrified her. As Tiffany’s words faded, the hospital room plunged into heavy silence. Moments passed. "Fanny," Arlo hesitated for a moment before reaching for Tiffany’s hand. "I was under too much pressure at work back then. I didn’t want to burden you with my problems—that’s why I ended things." He raised his voice slightly, his tone dripping with sincerity. "As for that woman, she was just someone I used to play along with the act. Nothing more." Tiffany furrowed her brows, as if weighing the truth behind his words. A shadow flickered in Arlo’s eyes. He had to do as that person instructed—find a way back into Tiffany’s life. Only then would he get his hands on that 300,000 dollars. He didn’t care what that person’s motives were. As long as it worked in his favor, nothing else mattered. "I know I was wrong. I swear to you," he said, his fair, well-defined face softening with practiced tenderness. "If I ever mention breaking up again, may I die a horrible death. Okay?" His words sounded earnest, but Arlo didn’t believe a single one of them. If oaths actually came true, half the world would drop dead by noon. "Don’t swear like that! I never said I didn’t trust you." Tiffany was startled by Arlo’s solemn oath. "Arlo, I’m genuinely not ready to start over yet. Can you give me some more time?" Even after his dramatic vow, Tiffany still wouldn’t budge? This wasn’t like her at all. A flicker of impatience flashed in Arlo’s eyes as the memory of an astonishingly beautiful yet furious face suddenly surfaced in his mind. After he had broken up with Tiffany, that woman had tracked him down to his office building and publicly slapped him—twice. "Fanny," Arlo lowered his voice, his brow furrowing. "Tell me the truth—did that so-called best friend of yours, Camilla, say something to you?" "Arlo!!" Tiffany’s delicate, sweet face instantly darkened, her voice turning icy. "This is between you and me! Why drag Camilla into it?!" To her, Camilla was family—someone far more important than Arlo. She hated the accusatory tone and looked in his eyes whenever he mentioned Camilla. The warmth in her heart, brought about by the man before her, gradually cooled without her realizing it. "I just heard that when it comes to relationships, girls tend to encourage breakups rather than reconciliation," Arlo said, noticing Tiffany’s anger. His expression softened in response. "I was afraid you might not forgive me because of something Camilla said. That’s why I acted rashly." "You’re overthinking it," Tiffany withdrew her hand, her gaze icy as she met Arlo’s eyes. "Camilla has never said a word about you—because she couldn’t even be bothered to mention you." "Arlo," Tiffany softened her voice, yet her tone remained unyielding. "You’re the one who messed up. You’re the reason I’ve lost all sense of security and confidence in this relationship. Don’t you dare shift the blame onto anyone else." Her delicate, pale face was etched with unwavering seriousness. "Keep this up, and you’ll only disappoint me even more." Hasn’t Tiffany always loved him? What kind of attitude was this?! Arlo’s expression darkened instantly. "Fanny—" "Just go," Tiffany lay back down and shut her eyes. "I need to rest." This was no ordinary rest—it was a clear dismissal, simmering with anger. Arlo had grown up with Tiffany and prided himself on knowing her inside out. To his surprise, she actually turned against him just because he mentioned Camilla?! Arlo’s eyes darkened as he gazed at Tiffany, who kept her eyes shut in feigned sleep, refusing to communicate. His handsome, fair-skinned face was clouded with displeasure. The hospital room sank back into silence. Arlo stood up, ready to leave. But the thought of that promised 300,000 dollars made him pause. Suppressing the anger simmering in his chest, he forced himself to stay. "Fanny, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that." He exhaled deeply, softening his tone. "I’ll prove my sincerity to you—I’ll make you accept me again." "I’ll head out now, but I’ll bring your favorite soup after work." Only after the door clicked shut did Tiffany slowly open her eyes. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Arlo had changed. But exactly how, she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Meanwhile, in the hospital parking lot. "Did it work?" A man’s icy voice crackled through the phone. "Not yet. She said she needs more time to think it over," Arlo’s face darkened as he repeated the words, "She said she needs more time." A cold male voice cut through the tension. "She may have time, but we don’t." The tone was icy, deliberate. "You’ve got one more week. If you still can’t close the deal, we’ll demand ten times the deposit—just as we agreed." Ten times the deposit. That meant half a million. There was no way he could pay that back. Arlo’s expression twisted with dread. "Understood. I’ll hurry." Meanwhile, inside the smoothly gliding Rolls-Royce... "Madam," Luke had barely spoken when a deep, frosty voice crackled through the phone. "His call is more important than mine?" Boss Sinclair?! Even through the phone, Luke could sense the icy aura emanating from the other end, sending a shiver down his spine. Did he just interrupt President Luther’s... private moment?! "Luke called about official business," Camilla’s glistening eyes sparkled with amusement as she gazed at Sinclair. "Sweetheart, you’re not seriously jealous of this, are you?" *Ma’am, now is really not the time to mention my name.* * Thanks a lot.* Luke stiffened, torn between laughter and tears. Not daring to hear another word, he decisively ended the call. "Yes," Sinclair’s dark, narrow eyes locked onto Camilla without restraint, the corners of his eyes lifting slightly. "Is that a problem?" His low, husky voice carried an unreadable undertone. "Of course not," Camilla found this side of Sinclair inexplicably adorable and couldn’t help but laugh, her eyes crinkling into crescents. "But..." "No buts." Sinclair cupped Camilla’s head, silencing her protests with his lips. "Come taste it with me, Camilla," he murmured against her mouth, his voice low and teasing. "Tell me if it’s sour." His breath, warm and laced with affection, enveloped her. Camilla closed her eyes, surrendering to the moment. The air between them grew thick, charged with unspoken desire.