Book 3 Expecting My Boyfriend to Cheat with My Friend
During the day, I had to deal with wave after wave of people coming to “comfort” me, each with their own hidden agenda, until my face was practically frozen in a polite smile.
At night, I touched the photo by my bedside, wondering–now will you finally come back?
The man in the photo was Samuel Vincent, a close friend of my parents before they passed. After their accident, he was the one who raised me.
I still remember the first time I met him; I was full of hostility.
When Mr. & Mrs. Martin, the chairman and his wife of the Martin Corporation, died in
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a car accident, they left behind a massive business empire–and a twelve–year–old daughter.
At my parents‘ funeral, distant relatives and high–ranking executives were engaged in heated arguments right in front of the mourning hall.
The focus of their dispute was me, Evelyn Martin–who would gain custody of me?
Having grown up watching my parents navigate the treacherous waters of the business world, I knew all too well how valuable a bargaining chip I was. Becoming my legal guardian meant access to my inheritance when I came of age. Who wouldn’t fight tooth and nail for such a lucrative opportunity?
At that moment, Samuel arrived with my
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parents‘ final will, stating that they had entrusted me to him before their deaths.
No one in the room believed him. Not even me.
I knew who Samuel was. He had visited our home a few times when my parents were alive. But that alone was hardly reason enough to make him my guardian. What a joke.
Yet, against all odds, the least favored candidate overcame every challenge and became my legal guardian.
That year, I was twelve. Samuel was only twenty–five.
At 1 a.m., my phone chimed with a message: “Don’t be afraid. I’m coming back to handle everything!”
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It was Samuel.
I immediately called him, and he picked up almost instantly.
“Evelyn, don’t be scared. Get some rest tonight. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Hearing his voice after so long made my nose sting with emotion. I missed him–1 missed him so much.
“Samuel, I feel terrible. I can’t sleep.”
There was a brief pause on the other end, followed by a barely audible sigh. “Wait for
me.”
Ten minutes later, Samuel appeared in my living room, still dressed in his suit, looking slightly exhausted.
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He had changed a lot–more composed, more mature. Just as he had watched me grow up, I had watched him evolve into the man he was today.
Such an exceptional man–I wanted him all to myself.
He comforted me for a long time, analyzing the crisis at my company and warning me to be more discerning in choosing friends.
“I’ll head back to my hotel now. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”
As he stood up, I gently tugged at the corner of his coat, looking up at him with pitiful,
wide eyes.
Samuel stopped, puzzled by my actions. “What’s wrong?”
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“I’m scared.”
His gaze softened with warmth and indulgence. Squatting down to meet my eyes, he reassured me, “Be good. I’ll be here first thing in the morning.”
I stubbornly refused to let him leave. With no other choice, he sighed and stayed in the living room for the night.
That night, I slept exceptionally well. There was a time when I had frequent nightmares as a child, and he would stay in the living room just like this, telling me that as long as he was there, I had nothing to fear.
The next morning, the aroma of eggs lured me out of bed. Groggy, I wandered into the kitchen to find Samuel expertly flipping shrimp in a pan, preparing my favorite dish.
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If only I hadn’t overheard his phone
conversation, my entire day would have been blissful.
The person on the other end of the call was his beloved–Sophia Clarke.
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