Chapter 2 I'm Not Like The Rest Of You!

"You..." Debra's voice faltered for a second. She wished she could tear Waylon, the man she loathed more than anyone, into pieces.

She yearned to scream at him, to tell him outright that she had no interest in any form of relationship with him, much less putting any effort into it. But could she actually say those words?

If she did, Waylon would surely taunt her, accusing her of dishonoring her late grandfather and branding her as the worst granddaughter.

In short, Debra found herself with no choice but to let Waylon move into her house.

"So, you want to stay at my place? Fine, you can stay!" Debra conceded to Waylon.

She knew better than to resist the unavoidable. With a mix of resignation and defiance, she threw the house keys on the table, her expression hardened, and stormed out of the coffee shop without a second glance.

What did it matter if he moved in? Debra thought defiantly. Sharing a living space with someone she despised for three months wouldn't soften her heart in the slightest.

If anything, Waylon's presence would only deepen her disdain and scorn for him.

"In three months, all of this will be over," Debra reminded herself firmly. She quietly pumped herself up. She couldn't let this man, who had shown her nothing but disrespect, get the better of her over these next three months!

However, just as she started to walk away, the man's voice from behind almost made her trip. He casually said, "Hey, don't forget to pay for the coffee before you head out. I'm out of cash!"

What was her grandfather thinking, setting her up with this kind of man? He didn't even have enough to pay for coffee!

That was just ridiculous!

Once Debra had paid and left, Waylon also exited the coffee shop. About an hour later, he was standing in front of a gravestone in Lucset's most prestigious cemetery, the name Ethan Morgan etched onto it.

The photo of the old man on the stone showed a warm and friendly face. He was Debra's grandfather, the same man who had saved Waylon's life.

Five years back, during a dangerous mission in Mbita, Waylon was badly injured and running for his life. Luckily, he stumbled upon Ethan, who hid him from his pursuers.

Waylon never forgot that act of kindness.

It was this debt of gratitude that led Waylon to accept Ethan's request to marry Debra, vowing to always keep her safe from harm.

It was hard to believe that Ethan, who had spoken with Waylon over the phone just a month earlier, was now just memories and dust...

Snap!

With a flick, Waylon lit his last cigarette, inhaled deeply, and then addressed the tombstone, "Mr. Morgan, you can rest easy now. With me here, nothing bad will come Debra's way. And about your passing, it doesn't sit right with me. I'll get to the bottom of it and avenge you!"

After he finished his last cigarette, Waylon didn't stick around. He walked away from the cemetery, his figure blending into the surroundings as if he'd never been there. He looked a bit worn and distant, reminiscent of a lone wolf hardened by many battles.

Even though Debra had given him the keys to her house, she hadn't told him exactly where it was. Luckily, more than a month earlier, Ethan had given Waylon all the details about Debra, including her address and personal details. Waylon was well-informed.

The sight that greeted Waylon was a stunning villa tucked away in the deepest corner of Blossom Villas. The villa's main hue was a soft light blue, surrounded by a small courtyard and vibrant greenery, presenting a luxurious facade.

"Wow, this place is amazing. Does this mean I've lucked out and married into a rich family?" he mumbled to himself.

As he gazed at the villa, envied by many, Waylon's eyes lit up, and he couldn't help but let out a sly grin, revealing his materialistic nature.

"Married into a rich family? Bah! Take a long, hard look at yourself first!" A mocking voice suddenly interrupted Waylon's thoughts just as he was about to walk into the villa.

Turning around, Waylon spotted a man in his early thirties wearing gold-rimmed glasses, dressed in a sharp suit, looking every bit like a successful individual. In his hand was a bouquet of vivid roses, seemingly waiting for someone.

"What are you looking at? Get lost. You'll never be like me!" Feeling Waylon's eyes on him, the man in the gold-rimmed glasses let out an even bigger scoff. "It's amazing to see such a mix of folks these days. You, a bumpkin, dreaming of marrying rich? You're hardly fit to be a servant for Debra!"

"Are you one of Debra's suitors?" Waylon gave the man a once-over, curious.

"Of course!" The man in the gold-rimmed glasses scoffed again. "Who else would I be here for if not Debra? You're after her too, aren't you? But let me tell you, you better leave now. Someone like you won't even get a glance from Debra. Don't block my path!"

Waylon just smiled and responded, "You've got me wrong. I'm not like the rest of you."

The man in the gold-rimmed glasses let out a mocking laugh. "Right, you're different. You're just a bumpkin, all the way! But see, I've got a powerful father. I'm young, successful, and I'm already running my own company. So, yes, we're nothing alike!"

"Look, you've got it all wrong," Waylon said.

He shook his head and continued, "What I'm trying to say is, you guys might be chasing after Debra, but me? I'm her husband. That's a whole different thing."

"What? You're Debra's husband? What are you even saying?"

The shock was evident on the face of the man with the gold-rimmed glasses, but it quickly turned into laughter. "Haha, that's a good one! You, Debra's husband? Have you taken a good look at yourself lately? What exactly do you have that makes you think you're right for Debra?"

"You don't believe me?" Waylon sighed, wondering if he really looked that unimpressive.

"There's no way I'm buying that." The man with the gold-rimmed glasses scoffed again. "Please, you're probably just fantasizing about being with Debra, a woman every guy dreams of!"

"And what if I am her husband?" Pausing for a moment, Waylon smiled and added, "Just a 'what if'."

"What if?"

The man with the gold-rimmed glasses gave Waylon a cold look and said, "If you're really Debra's husband, then I'll do whatever you want even if you ask me to eat shit. But come on, is that even possible?"

Waylon replied, "Is it possible? Maybe. We're about to find out."

He laughed a little and continued, "And don't worry, I won't make you eat shit. It would be even more disgusting to see someone like you eating shit. How about this... if I'm really Debra's husband, you give me a thousand dollars."

Waylon was running low on cash after rushing back from overseas.

"A bumpkin always thinking about money!" the man with the gold-rimmed glasses lifted his chin proudly and said. "A thousand dollars is nothing to me. How about this? If you're really Debra's husband, I'll give you ten thousand dollars! But if you're not, you don't have to pay me anything. Instead, I want you, the loser, to lick my shoes! Do you dare to take that bet, bumpkin?"

Waylon smiled and answered, "I'm just worried you won't be able to handle what happens next."

He narrowed his eyes and pulled out a set of keys from his pocket, the keys Debra had given him.

The man with the gold-rimmed glasses was taken aback.

Having chased after Debra for years, he immediately recognized the keys Waylon was holding. Weren't those the keys Debra used for her house?

How did those keys end up with this bumpkin?

Could it be that he really was...