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Mark for shame 12

Mark for shame 12

Chapter 12 The End 

Yet somehow the news leaked. After finalizing paperwork that day, Eric waited outside my office. 

“They said you’re leaving?” 

“Who are they? I thought I had deleted all of our mutual friends.” 

He ignored my question, pressing: “Is it because of him? Rushing off right after he left the country?” 

I opened my mouth but stayed silent-he took it as confirmation. 

The man’s lashes fluttered before he laughed bitterly. 

“Maddie, I admit it-this time I regret everything.” 

“I shouldn’t have acted so close to her all along, even if I just saw her as a sister. I should’ve considered your feelings as my future wife-not letting myself or others joke about your birthmark. Worst of all… I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly that night, making you lose all hope in me.” 

“If I’d reflected on my mistakes sooner and talked things through with you properly, could we have worked things 

out?” 

“But you know,” I said, looking straight at him, “there are no ‘what-ifs’ in this world. Truth is, I arrived much earlier than you thought that night.” 

His face drained of color. 

So I’d heard him betting with others about the birthmark on my face. What stunned me more was overhearing Kelly ask him: “If I hadn’t refused that arranged marriage back then, would you still have married her?” 

The man swirling his wineglass smirked and answered: “Nope.” 

The face overlapped with his panicked, urgent expression now. 

“Not like that, not what you think. I only said those words to make her…” 

Whether true feelings or sweet talk, I had no energy to decipher it anymore. “Let’s end this here, Eric.” 

The man’s shoulders finally slumped completely. 

The next day, I boarded a flight to Milan. 

Though the company had warned me, life here proved much tougher than I’d expected. Unfamiliar surroundings, lan- guage barriers, constant challenges-yet it all felt incredibly fulfilling. 

Soon, I gradually adapted to the rhythm here. 

0.0 % 

11:00 

Chapter 12 The End 

by 

FREERSTE 

288 Vouchers Except recently, an uninvited guest appeared. None other… than Eric himself. Thankfully, he didn’t pester me as be- fore, just lingered silently behind me. 

That evening, Eric came to find me, saying he’d rented an apartment across from mine. He couldn’t bear seeing me work so hard, adding that abroad isn’t as safe as America and he was concerned. I didn’t impose on his freedom. 

Leveraging my recent connections, I soon secured a position with another agency. Fortunately, they were impressed with my portfolio and resume. We reached a mutual agreement immediately. Their only requirement was my perma- nent relocation to Paris-which I readily accepted. 

I booked my flight to Paris that same night. 

After landing and adjusting to the time difference, dozens of texts from an unknown number flooded my phone. 

I knew exactly who it was. Without even glancing, I blocked the number. 

Later, I achieved my biggest dream and walked the runway at Paris Fashion Week. 

With steady steps and a determined gaze, my unforgettable birthmark became my signature trait. I instantly became the most promising Asian model that year. 

After the show, I requested a week off to return home. My best friend Sarah made a special trip to the airport to pick 

me up. 

Excitedly, she showed me exclusive footage from a luxury brand’s show-me in haute couture with striking jewelry, captivating the audience with one glance. 

“Honestly, I wish certain people in our circle could see your queenly aura now,” she said before chattering nonstop about everything that had changed back home. 

The conversation eventually turned to Eric. 

I only then learned that not long after I went to Paris, Eric was called back by his mother due to family matters. But he started drinking heavily every day, and word got out several times that he’d been rushed to the hospital at midnight for internal bleeding. The Gibson family began losing faith in their heir and started grooming his cousin. 

“And I heard that when he found out you were coming back to America, he…” She paused. “He asked me for your 

contact.” 

I sighed. Raising my left wrist slightly toward her, I suggested: “Come on, the best way to celebrate our reunion-let’s take a photo.” 

I pulled her close, confidently posing for the camera. Unintentionally, my left ring finger flashed a diamond the size of a dove’s egg. 

“If it’s not obvious enough…” 

“Then kindly inform him I’m already engaged.” 

Sarah, both shocked and delighted, grabbed my hand. Later we strolled through shops hand in hand, shared a meal, and deliberately ignored our blown-up Instagram feeds. 

 

Mark for shame

Mark for shame

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Mark for shame

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