Although he didn't want to admit it, some things don't cease to exist just because he denies them.
This woman named Valentine Teller has left an indelible mark on his heart.
No matter how time rolls on, it never fades from the depths of his heart.
"What's wrong with being a middle-aged woman? I'm happy, I like it, what can you do about it?"
No matter how beautiful and radiant, in his eyes, she's just an interesting plaything.
She doesn't want to be a plaything; she wants to live with value and dignity.
From now on, she will draw a clear line with Mark Reed.
"I couldn't care less; you think you're so great. Hmph, it would be strange for a man to be interested in you. When your husband cheats later, don't blame me for not warning you."
Mark Reed's hand on Valentine Teller's chin tightened.
Yet she stubbornly refused to raise her head.
Her heart was choked with anger, a rage burned brightly in his chest, his teeth grinding audibly.
