He felt a tightness in his throat and asked, "Do you really love him that much?"

"Yes," Melissa replied without a second thought.

She had an inkling of what he might be thinking, but she knew she didn't deserve him.

Then, looking down, she said something she had thought of countless times. "Mr. Fowler, we're from two different worlds."

Marcus played with the two bundles of money, deep in thought.

No one could tell what was on his mind.

Finally, after a long silence, he said, “Keep the money. Just cook me something to eat and we'll call it even."

Melissa looked up, tears forming in her eyes.

“Mr. Fowler, you don't need to be this kind to me," she said, her voice quivering.

Marcus gave a wry smile. "Like I said, cook me something, and we're even."

The kitchen was modest, with just a simple pot and no fridge.

Under the bed, there was a box of instant noodles and two cans of luncheon meat.

Marcus appeared unaffected.

He casually leaned against the headboard of her bed, pulling out another cigarette and lighting it. He took his time, inhaling the smoke as he observed her preparing the small pot, plugging it in, and filling it with water.

She had a knack for cooking.

Even the simple instant noodles, enhanced with luncheon meat and vegetables, emitted an appetizing aroma.

Soon, she served two bowls of the noodles on the modest table. After a moment of hesitation, she gathered her courage and removed the cigarette from his lips, saying, “Don't smoke. It's bad for you.”

Marcus simply gazed at her, his eyes holding depth.

In the blink of an eye, he grasped her slender wrist and swiftly pinned her beneath him.

The situation mirrored one from two months prior, It was romantic then, but now, things were different.