The Jilted Heiress' Return to the High Life - Chapter 433

Chapter 433:

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“Don’t all men harbor their secrets?”

“Just a moment.” Nate slipped from beneath the covers, returning shortly with The Shape of Water, a romantic tale of forbidden love between a mute laboratory worker and a mysterious merman.

Though they achieved their escape, with the revelation of the heroine’s hidden gills, Corrine remained unmoved.

Self-reproach washed over her as she wondered if age had hardened her heart, or if others were right about her emotional frigidity.

“I will defy my nature, defy my instincts, and love you forever,” Nate declared suddenly.

Corrine’s brow creased as she averted her gaze.

“What brings this on?”

Drawing her closer, Nate explained, “Richard Dawkins argues in The Selfish Gene that we’re born self-serving, yet love compels us to transcend that nature. I can’t define love precisely, but seeing you illuminated everything my heart had been searching for.”

His face nestled into the curve of her neck, his arms tightening possessively around her waist.

“I love you, Corrine.”

Corrine’s heart gave a sudden jolt as the realization sank in—Nate had noticed her hesitation, sensed her every unspoken thought. And instead of tiptoeing around it, he had chosen the most direct way to show her how he felt. It was both a reassurance and a quiet confession.

Her gaze softened as she reached out, her fingers gently tracing over the angles of his face.

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They were so close that she could see her reflection in his eyes, the depth of emotion there mirroring her own.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, and then, as if carried by instinct, a radiant smile broke across her lips.

“I love you too, Nate.”

Such simple words, yet they sent a rush of heat surging through Nate’s veins. His grip around her tightened, his voice dropping lower.

“Keep talking like that, and you’re not getting any sleep tonight.”

Corrine laughed softly, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Good night.”

The next morning, at Midnight Café, Bruce had chosen a table by the window on purpose. It offered a wide view—perfect for keeping an eye on the people passing by while also making sure he was easy to spot.

Before long, a man in a baseball cap entered, his movements cautious as he scanned the café. After a brief sweep of the room, he strode toward Bruce.

“Good day, Mr. Ashton.”

Bruce’s muscles tensed slightly, his sharp gaze raking over the man. He didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“Where’s the stuff I asked for?”

The man let out a low chuckle, a glimmer of calculation flickering in his eyes.

“As we agreed—cash for information.”

Bruce’s expression remained unreadable as he leaned forward.

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