Cecilia indulged in a few pieces of fruit.

As she nibbled, her cheek swelled adorably, charming Mark's heart.

He then said gently, "There are ingredients in the fridge. Allow me to prepare a meal for you."

Setting aside the document in her hand, she uttered softly, "Mr. Evans, we are over. Apart from Edwin, there's nothing left between us. Let's not pretend to be what we once were. It's unnecessary."

Mark donned an apron.

Upon hearing her words, he glanced at her, questioning, “Cecilia, what if | still believe that we can rekindle what we had?”

The atmosphere turned tense, silence enveloping them.

This apartment housed an abundance of memories shared between them. Though once filled with sweetness, now their gazes locked in helplessness and indifference.

Mark took off the apron and returned to his seat.

He resolved to speak his mind.

"Cecilia, what | am about to offer you constitutes the majority of my personal assets, and what remains is an integral part of the Evans family's wealth. You must understand that this is not solely intended for raising a child. Cecilia, please don't address me as Mr. Evans anymore. Call me Uncle Mark or simply Mark..." ©

Cecilia's voice quivered slightly.

"Are you suggesting we get back together?"

Mark looked somewhat embarrassed.

Never in his life had he pleaded or exhibited humility. But that day, in the Fowler residence, he had knelt down.

He was impelled by a sudden desire to marry her.

However, an incident occurred in Czanch. Two technicians working on that certain project tragically lost their lives in a car accident.

The circumstances surrounding their demise were shrouded in secrecy and they couldn't testify to what happened.

Mark couldn't jeopardize the lives of Cecilia and Edwin, nor could he disclose the truth.

The project in question was a highly confidential plan, three years in the making.

Except for Peter, no one knew about his child.

Thus, he offered her this sum of money with a singular request, "Cecilia, wait for me for two years."