Chapter 591:

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“Hey, put me down!” Renee protested, aware of everyone staring. She buried her face against Marcelo’s chest, mortified.

“Didn’t you hurt your ankle? Stay still,” Marcelo said firmly. His expression was stern, but his hold remained careful as he carried her in his arms.

Marcelo carried her all the way back to her apartment. At the entrance, Renee caught the security guards’ shocked, gossiping looks and immediately regretted ever moving here. By tomorrow, she decided, she would go back to the mansion. She never wanted to live here again.

When the elevator doors opened, Renee reached up to unlock the door with her fingerprint, but Marcelo’s arms tightened around her.

“Ah!” she gasped, suddenly cradled even more securely—like she was something precious and fragile.

With one hand, Marcelo unlocked the door, then walked in and gently set her down on the sofa. His restraint looked thin, as if his emotions were barely contained.

“Marcelo, those reporters chase gossip like wolves,” Renee said softly, trying to calm him. “They’ll do anything for a story.”

“Which foot is it?” Marcelo asked, as though he hadn’t even heard her attempt to comfort him.

“The right one.”

𝗤𝗎𝘢𝗹𝘪t𝗒 𝘵𝗋aոs𝗹𝗮𝘵𝗶𝘰𝗇ѕ 𝗈𝘯 𝗀𝖺lո𝘰𝘃e𝗅𝘀.𝘤o𝗆

Marcelo carefully slipped off her shoe and examined her ankle.

When he saw there was no obvious swelling, he finally let out a quiet breath of relief. Then he looked up into her eyes and admitted, “I’m upset you got hurt.”

Renee blinked, absorbing his words.

“Renee, I wasn’t with you today because you asked me not to be,” Marcelo continued. He crouched in front of her, resting her right foot—still in a white sock—on his knee. “And then this happens.” His voice lowered. “Do I need to keep an eye on you all the time?”

Renee’s heart skipped.

She sighed. “It was just an accident.”

“But I can’t stand the thought of any accident happening to you.”

“See? It’s already getting better,” Renee reassured him. She shifted her ankle slightly. A sharp sting flashed through her, but she hid it.

Marcelo stood, brushed a kiss against the corner of her lips, and ruffled her hair as if he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m not blaming you.”

In truth, he was blaming himself.

Marcelo hadn’t expected the incident to affect Renee so much. At first, he thought he could simply brush it aside.

Now, he couldn’t.

All of a sudden, Renee pulled back and scooted away along the couch, dodging his touch.

“You just touched my shoes, my socks, my foot—and now my hair!” she exclaimed, looking genuinely repulsed.

Marcelo let out a short chuckle. “But, Renee, they’re your shoes, your socks, and your foot.”

Renee clutched her hair protectively. “Even so, it’s not okay!”

Realizing there were no cold packs or sprain medicine at home—and still worried about her ankle—Marcelo went out to buy what she needed.

The moment he left, the apartment fell into silence.

Renee picked up her phone, only to be hit with an overwhelming flood of news about Marcelo.

“Why hasn’t Marcelo responded yet?”

“If he stays silent, it confirms everything. He’s afraid denying it will backfire!”

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