Devoted Love, Mr. Hayes’ Darling Wife

Inside the black Bentley business car after lunch.

Campoverde felt the low pressure throughout the car and unconsciously glanced in the car’s rearview mirror at the drunk man in the back seat.

Nico’s head leaned back on the padded seat as Savanna breathed in and out, her throat moving.

The pent-up rage in her chest, as if there was nowhere to vent it, surged there.

Campoverde pursed his lips and spoke cautiously, “Mr. Nico, I have found out what you asked me to find out.”

Nico cocked his head and opened his deep, alcohol-stained eyes slightly to look at the car roof, and from his thin lips only one sharp word escaped, “Di.”

“The letter … Was indeed sent from … from England and indeed from Dario Cepeda’s residence, and as for the handwriting, I sent someone to Dario Cepeda’s old alma mater. I had an expert compare the handwriting and it was …”

Campoverde pauses.

“What is it?” The man in the back seat was surrounded by a cold, murderous aura.

Campoverde said stiffly, “It is indeed Dario Cepeda’s handwriting, those letters, it is not forged handwriting.”

Dario Cepeda’s letter is true.

For a moment, Nico wanted to believe it for once, but Dario Cepeda was no one else.

Micaela had uttered the man’s name in her sleep, over and over again.

As proud as Nico was, even if he didn’t care, his dignity seemed crushed at that moment.

Spare tires.

Nico doesn’t want to admit that he’s Micaela’s backup, that he’s her second choice.

Even if the letters were fake, that wouldn’t erase the fact that Micaela had unconsciously uttered Dario Cepeda’s name over and over again in her dreams.

Moreover, Dario Cepeda’s response to the letter is true.

Campoverde hesitantly asked, “Mr. Nico, is it possible that someone disguised Miss Micaela’s handwriting and wrote the letter to Dario Cepeda?”

After a long while, Nico closed his eyes again, remained silent and finally said indifferently, “It doesn’t matter.”

Dario Cepeda, always engraved in Micaela’s heart, has never been forgotten.

It’s a fact Nico doesn’t want to admit, but he has to.

What is a letter? If you don’t write, will the person who lives in Micaela’s heart change?

The black Bentley, heading to Villa Lago de la Luna.

Campoverde’s cell phone rang and the caller ID said Micaela.

Campoverde hesitantly asked, “Mr. Nico, Miss Micaela is calling, a …. Do you want to answer?”

Nico’s phone broke at dinner and he hasn’t had a new one in a while, so naturally Micaela can’t reach him.

Micaela called Campoverde, apparently to see Nico.

“Pick up.”

Campoverde picks up.

Micaela over there spoke up and asked, “Campoverde, is Mr. Nico’s phone off, I can’t get through to him, are you … together now?”

“Not together at ….”

Mr. Nico is now angry and it is clear that he does not want to take Micaela’s calls, whom Campoverde does not dare to disobey.

But Micaela is smart, and Campoverde’s stuttering tone is instantly telling.

Micaela didn’t ask again, nor bother to poke at the embarrassment, just said flippantly, “As long as he’s not in trouble, take good care of him, I’m hanging up.”

Campoverde: “…”

If Nico hadn’t been sitting in the back of the car, Campoverde wouldn’t have been able to resist telling Micaela the truth, because Micaela knew too much, so much so that Campoverde was a little upset.

Not that Campoverde had never dealt with any of the actresses, big or small, who had been with Mr. Nico before, all of them acting like grannies, and within days of being with Mr. Nico, they thought his eyes were so high that they walked sideways.

But Micaela, who has been with Mr. Nico for two years now, is still the same, not arrogant, but respectful and sometimes sharp-tongued.

Micaela hung up the phone.

Micaela, sitting at her dressing table, looked at the Barbie doll sitting next to her, reached out her hand and nodded her head, smiling foolishly, “You’re an unimportant companion too.”

Not even his girlfriend.

She had thought she was.

But what girlfriend, who fails to communicate with her boyfriend, will take the initiative so many times in a day and not get any words.

She should have known that Nico was a playboy, and she triumphantly assumed that even if she didn’t see this man for six months, he would be waiting for her.

But in the end, Micaela realized that when he went to work for so long and asked him to leave her alone, he really didn’t bother her just because he was considerate of her.

But now it dawned on her that he could also go and play with others, she didn’t consider herself anyone special.

Just someone who could be replaced at any time.

And he sought her out for a relationship, but only because, well, she was pretty and happened to be by his side.

As for the favors, they are indeed for Nico’s girlfriend, but not for Micaela, just for the woman next to Nico, whoever she is, it doesn’t matter.

That’s fair enough, what a man should be generous and chivalrous to his partner.

Micaela tried to smile, secretly grateful that she hadn’t fallen too deep and stayed sober.

It turns out that the saying is really true, life, ah, only the pork roll is eternal, other things, but only a little.

…

In the middle of the night, Micaela was confused in her sleep when the door opened.

A series of faint footsteps sank to the floor and approached the bed with unspoken anger.

Micaela had just tried to open her eyes when the blankets covering her body were lifted completely by a large hand and the blankets, dropped to the floor.

She couldn’t even struggle before she was pinned against the bed by an alcoholic male body.

As soon as Micaela opened her eyes, she saw Nico’s enlarged face very close.

He reeked of alcohol, as if he were drunk.

Micaela’s eyes flickered with some surprise, “Mr. Nico?”.

Nico ignored her and just kissed and bit her with brutal fury.

Micaela felt a little uncomfortable, but said anyway, “What are you doing here all of a sudden, I thought you were avoiding me.”

Nico was still ignoring her words, but asked her in a non-negotiable way, “Micaela, who am I to you?”.

His eyes were sharp and unmistakable as he asked, staring at her, not at all like a drunk.

He asked it too sharply and Micaela was momentarily frozen and unable to respond.

For just an hour or two ago, she had self-denied her relationship with him, and now, she couldn’t say it.

Nico, however, looked at her for a moment, with a trace of ruthlessness, and leaned closer, “I’m your boyfriend.”

“…”

“Say you love me.”

The man’s thin lips, less than an inch from hers, were so close, so close, their breaths intertwined.

His tone, not like he was asking for sweet words, like a command, was fierce and cold.

She already knew that Nico was not as cynical as he appeared, that there was also a determined and frightening side to the man, but she would never have imagined that Nico could be so oppressive when he was angry.

Micaela didn’t know what had upset him, “What upset you about me?”.

From the moment she landed in The Holy City, wrote him on Facebook, called him, and he didn’t return a single word, Micaela was vaguely aware of the storm.

Nico ignored her words, cupped his chin with his long fingers and sneered, “Can’t you say it? Aren’t you a good actor? Can’t you say something as simple as that?”

“Nico…”NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

“Don’t give me that nonsense!” He interrupted her violently, clearly exhausting any hint of patience as the furious trapped beast broke free from its prison.

“I … what’s wrong with you?” Micaela tried to calm him down.

But Nico needed more than those fake greetings from her, and he let go of her chin with a sneer.

He really couldn’t say it.

If you really have it in your heart, how can you be so slow to say such simple words of love?

If the person in front of her now was Dario Cepeda, would he be able to say the words I love you fluently?

The answer was already determined in Nico’s mind.

So, without emotion, he threw out the words, “Take it off and go to bed.”

Cold-blooded to the core.

Micaela’s long, thick eyelashes flickered fiercely, her pride felt as if it had been crushed beneath her feet and shattered into crumbs.

Her hand, hanging over the side of her nightgown, crumpled into a fist as all those lost emotions turned to quality, and she raised her hand, slapping him hard, “Nico, you ask me who you are to me, but what do you take me for?”

Trust, weak as a piece of paper, shatters at the first prick.