The Jilted Heiress' Return to the High Life - Chapter 402

Chapter 402:

🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙

Corrine studied him, her expression unreadable. When she finally spoke, her tone was steady, giving nothing away.

“Has he done something unforgivable?”

Jules opened his mouth as if to respond but hesitated.

For a long moment, he remained silent, his jaw visibly tensing. Then, exhaling slowly, he met her eyes with a grave expression.

“Corrine, there are things I can’t tell you. But trust me when I say—stay away from him.”

Corrine held his gaze, her expression unreadable as silence stretched between them.

A voice suddenly broke the stillness from behind her.

“Corrine.”

The sound of her name, spoken in Nate’s deep, unmistakable voice, sent a sharp pull through her chest, wrapping around her like an invisible thread. There was something about the way he said it—a quiet intimacy that made her pulse waver.

Her fingers curled tighter around the strap of her bag as she steadied herself with a slow inhale.

Then, offering Jules a soft smile, she murmured, “Jules, I don’t always make the best choices, but I refuse to believe I’m unlucky enough to always pick the wrong guy.”

Jules’ frown deepened at her words, but he could only stand there, helpless as she turned and walked away.

He knew her too well.

On the surface, Corrine was easygoing, but at her core, she was unshakable.

Once she made up her mind, nothing—no warning, no plea—could change it. Jaw tight, Jules let out a low curse, pacing in frustration before stopping to watch her slip into Nate’s car.

Inside, neither Corrine nor Nate brought up Jules.

Without a word, Nate reached over, handing her a bottle of water, the cap already loosened.

Noticing the small, thoughtful gesture, Corrine let out a quiet laugh.

𝕍𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠: g𝕒𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝕖𝗅𝕤﹒ⅽ𝕠𝕞

“Nate, you don’t have to treat me like I’m helpless. I’m a lot tougher than you give me credit for.”

Nate suddenly leaned in, bringing with him an aura as crisp as an autumn breeze.

The space between them evaporated in an instant, their gazes tangled in a silent battle, their breaths mingling like threads of fate intertwining.

Corrine’s lashes trembled slightly as instinct took over—she held her fingers tightening around the ridged surface of the plastic water bottle.

But Nate did nothing more than reach for the seatbelt, smoothly crossing over her and fastening it with an audible click.

As he straightened, he brushed his thumb against the corner of her lips, wiping away a stray drop of water that lingered there, an unspoken gesture that carried more weight than words ever could.

“I wish you’d lean on me for everything, like someone who needs a knight in shining armor,” he murmured, his voice laced with an odd mixture of jest and sincerity.

“At the very least, it would do my vanity some good.”

He had seen it before—the way Moses’ past lovers clung to him like ivy to a sturdy wall, their voices flooding his phone with endless messages, their affections boundless and demanding.

.

.

.