True Love

4

I looked at him in shock, only to find that his stern eyes were fixed on the woman's face.

He wasn't reprimanding me.

"Mr. York..." The woman's face turned pale.

He stubbed out his cigarette and looked away.

The woman bit her lip in shame and anger. She didn't dare to say anything else and walked away with her head down.

Watching as she left, I had mixed feelings. I could see myself in her from eight years ago.

Garrett had been much colder to me then than he was to her now, and I hadn't been as philosophical as she was. I shamelessly begged him over and over again, but he refused to budge.

He was more mature and not as arrogant as he used to be, but still as indifferent and cold as before.

I smiled faintly and said, "That was uncalled for."

"That was absolutely necessary." Garrett looked leisurely down the long road with a faint smile. "I'm on your side."

His words stirred my heart and rekindled the longing I'd been feeling for him for so long.

"On my side? Who do you think you are to me?"

Ethan squinted at me, his gaze becoming increasingly indifferent. "You grew up with a sharp tongue."

He sounded unconcerned, but I felt terrible.

I turned her head away and said with difficulty, "It's all thanks to you."

Before the age of eighteen, I was meek, obedient, and gentle. I had never spoken in a loud voice, let alone confronted him.

After the age of eighteen, I mingled in the crowd and struggled to live. The beauty and innocence disappeared in countless crying nights alone, and I slowly grew into a hedgehog covered with thorns.

He took out a cigarette and lit it, looking at me with a frown.

At this point, Randall came out of the club and asked loudly, "Josie, have you finished talking to Mr. York?"

I nodded and my expression returned to normal. I looked at him with a smile and said, "Mr. Goodman, I forgot to introduce you formally."

"Josie Dixon, manager of Creative Wealth, your competitor." I extended my hand to him. "Nice to meet you. "

He raised an eyebrow, cigarette between his lips, and slowly lowered his eyes to my hand.

Without shaking my hand, he answered lightly, "Nice to meet you too."

He seemed to be implying something.

I didn't want to get to the bottom of it. I put my hand down and walked over to Randall.

Randall put his arm around my shoulder and waved to Garrett behind my back.

Then he lowered his head and asked, "To be honest, did you know him before?"

"You've known me for five or six years, haven't you? If I knew him, how come you didn't find out?"

"That's because you were a good secret keeper." Randall held my shoulder and said, "Tell me the truth."

I stopped in my tracks and sighed when I saw the stubborn look on Randall's face.

"What's with the sighing? Just tell me," he urged.

I lowered my head and reluctantly replied, "I've known him for thirteen years. He is kind of my brother."

5

When I was five, my mother went to work as Garrett's tutor and we moved in with the York family.

Garrett was 12 years old at the time. He broke his leg and had to stay at home, so his father hired my mother to tutor him.

The first time I saw him, he was in a wheelchair, handsome but arrogant and cold.

He didn't like talking to people and was indifferent to everything and always kept a comfortable distance from others.

I didn't know what was wrong with me. I loved being by his side.

When my mom was tutoring him, I sat quietly beside him.

Most of the time, I was bored and sleepy and would lean over and fall on him.

The first few times, he pushed me away rudely. Then I pouted and looked at him drowsily, feeling hurt.

This happened many times later. To my surprise, he stopped pushing me away. So each time I could lie on his lap and have a good nap.

My mother often asked me to leave, saying I was disturbing him.

I was too young to understand her then, so I didn't listen to a word she said.

I was clingy to Garrett and followed him wherever he went.

He went to school after his leg recovered. Every time I came back from kindergarten and couldn't find him, I cried.

My mother was troubled, so she took me with her to pick up Garrett.

The minute he walked out of the school gate, I could lock my eyes on him.

Then I stumbled my way through the crowd and opened my arms wide to ask for a hug.

He lowered his head, lifted me up easily, and held me in his arms.

It lasted for a long time. I didn't know why my mother and I were still living with the York family even though Garrett's legs had recovered.

Then one day my mom and Uncle James called me and Garrett into the living room and said they were getting married.

My mother was beaming with joy. "Josie, Garrett will be your brother."

I was confused as a primary school student.

Uncle James explained to me that Garrett and I would be family.

I still didn't understand. Garrett remained silent and turned to leave after a while.

If life were to go on like this, I would treat Garrett like a brother, just as our parents would have wanted me to.

Unfortunately, things did not go as planned.

Before my mother and Uncle James could marry, the York family went bankrupt. Creditors kept surrounding the house and our family was a scene of turmoil.

One night, Uncle James went to the top floor of his company and jumped down.

He didn't leave a note. We didn't know until we saw it on the morning news, and then the police called home.

Three days later, my mother ran away with the remaining cash and jewelry of the York family.

She didn't take me with her.

When I was eight years old, both Garrett and I became orphans.

6

During that time, I was so scared that I couldn't fall asleep.

Uncle James was dead, and my mom ran away. I was afraid that Garrett would abandon me.

I cried and followed him wherever he went.

Fifteen at the time, he seemed to have grown up overnight and held his father's funeral. The villa where we lived was sealed and he took me away.

He didn't say a word about abandoning me, nor did he blame my mother.

A relative of his took pity on him and offered to take him in. The implication was that he had to leave me alone.

He held my hand tightly and shook his head.

We settled down in a small apartment. It was dark and damp and full of mice and cockroaches. I didn't dare sleep alone, so he slept on the floor next to my bed.

I was so young then that I didn't know how hard life was. I didn't know how Garrett provided for me and sent me to school.

He was very busy with school and part-time jobs.

Every night, when he came home late and exhausted, I would wait for him under the street lamp with a book in my hand.

His luxurious life was gone forever. His white shirt and jeans were faded, but he still looked charming.

As soon as I saw him, my eyes lit up. I ran over and took his hand to go home.

Many years later, at night in a foreign country, I dreamed of the alley countless times where I had walked home with him.

The walls, the flowers, and the dim street lamps lighting the way for Garrett and me.

Every time I woke up crying.

I missed him so much.

Tonight, I had that dream again, about that alley.

When I woke up in the middle of the night, I went to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked out at the tall buildings and lights outside.

Randall had sent me a message. "He is your brother. But why are you going against him?"

Fixing my gaze on the flashing lights, I was lost in thought.

When I was 18, I was admitted to a top university. I was full of joy and wanted to give him a gift.

It was the first time I fell in love with someone. I liked him a lot.

Therefore, on my birthday, I plucked up the courage to confess my feelings to him and wanted to give myself to him as a gift.

However, he slapped me across the face and cursed, "Are you out of your mind? I'm your brother!"

From that day onwards, he became cold to me.

I typed many words but deleted them all. "Because he slapped me." That was the only thing I told Randall.

Randall sent a shocking emoji. "That's the reason? A slap?"

Was it because of that slap?

Obviously not.

Randall didn't understand, but Garrett must know what I was doing now was to anger him in the worst way possible.

But it seemed I had failed. He was still indifferent.

I curled up on the carpet behind the sofa, phone in hand, overcome with sadness.

During my eight years in a foreign country, I dreamed of him countless times and cried my eyes out many times.

I was aware of a painful truth.

Garrett didn't want me anymore.