Chapter 712
Chapter 712:
Hertha stared at him, shock and disbelief flooding her senses. The coldness in his voice felt like a cruel blow she couldn’t fathom. How could this be happening? How could he possibly lose interest in her body? Without it, what else did she have to offer?
“Mr. Turner…” she began, but her words were cut off as Vinson raised a hand, signaling for silence.
“You’ve said everything you needed to say, done all you could, and still… I’m not interested.” Vinson sneered. He extinguished his cigarette and tossed it into the trash before methodically buckling his belt and buttoning his shirt.
“Leaning on others won’t take you far,” Vinson continued, his voice steady. “It’s far better to rely on yourself.”
At some point, he had started to see Hertha in a different light. The girl who cried at the slightest provocation seemed so weak to him now. He longed for someone stronger, someone who refused to bend, who forged their own destiny with unwavering determination.
Her eyes were like Hertha’s—clear, yet devoid of helplessness. Instead, they were sharp and calculating, filled with cold determination. She was a fighter, always ready to confront whatever came her way.
He remembered their first meeting: she had been confident, persuasive, self-sufficient—nothing like the fragile, desperate woman before him now. Vinson found himself drawn to people like that—those who were strong and self-reliant.
With that thought, he gently moved Hertha aside and opened the stall door.
He tossed his jacket toward Hertha. “Stop wearing such revealing skirts. It doesn’t match the image you’re trying to project.”
Without another word, he walked out, not sparing her a second glance. Hertha hesitated, wanting to follow him, but her clothes still hung on the hook. By the time she managed to dress, Vinson was already gone.
Meanwhile, frustration simmered within Vinson. The young man who had opened the stall door earlier was familiar to him—he was part of Fernanda’s team. Given what the young man had just witnessed, Vinson couldn’t shake the feeling that he might gossip about it, sharing the embarrassing moment with Fernanda and the others.
𝗡𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝗽𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝘁 g𝖺𝖑𝖓𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀⫶ⅽ𝗈𝗺
The thought bothered Vinson more than he expected.
His irritation growing, he spotted a bar nearby. The ambiance seemed inviting, so he pushed open the door and entered. The moment he stepped inside, a soft, melodious voice filled the air, drawing him in.
A gentle, familiar love song floated through the air. The girl’s voice was soft yet powerful, each note seeming to tug at the heartstrings. Drawn to the sound, Vinson turned his gaze toward the stage and spotted the singer.
Fernanda was sitting on a stool, a wooden guitar in her hands, her voice filling the space. The spotlight bathed her face in a warm glow, highlighting her flawless features. Her eyes were clear and pure, her beauty almost doll-like, delicate and pristine.
As she glanced in his direction, their eyes met. Surprise flickered in her expression before a smile tugged at her lips. She raised an eyebrow at him in a playful, unspoken greeting.
Her smile was unexpectedly warm—sweet, almost disarming, a stark contrast to the cool, distant air she usually projected. It struck him without warning, like a gentle blow to the chest, causing his heart to race in the process.
.
.
.