Chapter 3

A week later, while strolling through a duty-free luxury mall in Miami, a familiar voice caught my attention.

"Babe, do you like this bag? Pick whatever you want, it's on me!"

I turned around. Sure enough, there was Eliana, clinging tightly to a young guy by the Rolex display.

I recognized him immediately. He was an influencer from the gym I used to visit, a guy named Troy Vance.

He’d once acted buddy-buddy with me, fishing for advice on how I’d managed to bag such an insanely hot babe.

When I told him she was blind, Troy had just given me a look of pure pity.

Yet here he was, looped around Eliana’s arm, grinning from ear to ear like an eager puppy.

Damn, she moved fast.

I planned to walk past and ignore them, but Troy had sharp eyes and spotted me instantly.

He deliberately raised his voice. "Well, well! Look who it is—Mr. Foster! Oh, wait, my bad. Should I call you the ex-husband now?"

Eliana finally noticed me. Her expression stiffened for a split second before snapping right back into that arrogant, untouchable smirk.

Troy smugly waved his wrist, showing off a shiny new luxury watch.

"Thanks a ton, man. You took such great care of Eliana, and now I get to reap all the rewards."

I took a slow sip of my iced coffee, looked him up and down, and grinned.

"Don't mention it. After all, I enjoyed her during her absolute prime for five whole years."

"As for now..." I threw a lingering, mocking glance at Eliana. "Her biological clock is ticking. You're just here to finish my leftovers."

Eliana’s face turned an ugly shade of green. "Sean! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Troy froze, clearly not expecting me to hit back with such savage bluntness.

I shrugged, having zero interest in playing their petty games, and turned to walk away.

Before I could take two steps, Eliana rushed over, grabbing my wrist tightly, her voice hushed and vicious. "What is that supposed to mean?!"

I yanked my hand back with a look of pure disgust.

"Exactly what it sounds like. The night you got your sight back, weren't you too disgusted to even let me touch you?"

"What, feeling insecure now?"

Her face flushed between crimson and pale white, hit right where it hurt.

Seeing her rattled, Troy hurried over, wrapping his arm around hers and whining, "Eliana, babe, didn't you say only a guy like me deserves your affection? Who cares what this ugly loser says?"

Eliana forced a reassuring smile, patting his arm. "You're right, baby. He was just a pathetic tool I used to keep around. You pay him a little, and he does whatever you want. He doesn't hold a candle to someone fresh and sweet like you."

I chuckled softly. In those five years, she’d rejected almost every intimate advance I made, and out of respect for her condition, I never pushed it.

So the entire time, she actually saw me as a cheap gigolo? Her desperate simp?

I stared at her coldly. "If I'm just a tool, then what does that make you?"

Seeing how utterly unfazed I was, Eliana’s temper flared.

She pointed an accusatory finger at my face. "Sean! Don't play dumb! You really think I don't know why you're here in Miami?!"

"If you want to beg for me back, fine! Drop to your knees right now and beg, and maybe I'll consider giving you a chance!"

"I swear, it’s impossible to guess what your brain is made of, Eliana. Even daydreams require a shred of reality."

Eliana sucked in a sharp breath, let out a venomous scoff, and pulled Troy close.

"Let's go, babe. Tonight, I'll cook you whatever you want."

I watched their retreating figures, rolling my eyes so hard they almost fell out of my head.