Chapter 3 Cradle Robber, Meet Your Fiancée

Derek frowned and walked closer. "What the hell are you doing out there?" he yelled, anger flaring.

Flora stood on the balcony railing, one leg lifted as if poised to jump. Hearing his voice, she turned to look at him, and the previous night's events replayed in her mind like an endless reel.

She gave her first time to a stranger-and felt no fear, no regret-just an eerie sense of calm.

"Speak! What are you trying to do?" Derek demanded coldly.

Unafraid of death, Flora sat down on the railing, legs dangling nonchalantly over the edge. Her gaze drifted downwards, a mixture of despair and sorrow in her eyes.

Perhaps because it was the anniversary of her mother's death, she couldn't help but dwell on it. She just wanted to feel what it was like, sitting up high, trying to imagine what her mother must have been thinking that day to be so ruthless with herself. She'd thrown herself from the seventh story of the mall without a shred of attachment left for this world.

Her little daughter had followed her, but she hadn't even glanced back.

"If you want to die, don't make trouble for others." Derek offered no comfort, his voice even colder than before.

Flora let out a sharp breath and climbed back onto the balcony floor. She looked at him, her bleak eyes incredibly cold. She smoothed down her wind-tousled red hair and offered a small smile. "I wasn't going to jump. I'm just testing the feeling. Would I splatter if I jumped from this high up?"

Derek stared at her, his expression complex. He'd never met someone so crazy.

The cold wind sobered Flora considerably. She pulled her robe tighter and walked back into the room. She didn't bother with slippers, letting her feet grow numb from the cold floor. Sitting on the bed, she casually retrieved a cigarette from Derek's jacket pocket, lit it, and brought it to her lips.

She saw the man still watching her through the haze of white smoke. Remembering something, she pulled out her wallet and started counting bills. "Hey, handsome," she began, her voice laced with casual amusement, "what's the rate for tonight?"

Derek had lived nearly thirty years, never expecting to be toyed with by some kid. A smirk touched his lips as he decided to play along shamelessly. "I don't need money. I need someone to take responsibility."

Flora's fingers froze for a fraction of a second. She blinked, then scanned the shameless man before her with open mockery. "'Uncle?'" she drawled. "How old are you, talking that kind of shameless crap?"

Derek froze. Uncle? Had she just called him uncle? Was he really that old?

"What did you call me?"

"'Uncle,'" Flora repeated nonchalantly, standing up. She said under Derek's burning gaze, "I just bought one night, old man. No intention of sticking around. Name your price."

Derek's embarrassment quickly turned to anger, the first time someone had provoked him to the point where he could only manage a smile-though this smile held a chilling edge. "Do I look like I need the money?"

Flora shook her head. A glance around the luxurious suite told her he'd rented it; she'd been blackout drunk earlier, after all.

Flora picked up her handbag and tossed Derek a card. "There's nine grand left on it. I know you don't need the money, but I like things square. Keep it or toss it, your choice."

Derek pinched the card between two fingers, a mocking smile on his lips. "Tell me, is anyone more audacious than you?"

"Yeah. The guy standing right in front of me." Flora adjusted her clothes, ready to leave.

Derek watched her retreating, his eyes narrowing shrewdly.

A girl who demanded nothing made no fuss. Who proactively paid him after a wild night-a first. It only piqued his curiosity and interest further.

"Wait," Derek called out.

Flora tilted her head, calm as ever. "What now?"

A wickedly gorgeous smile played on her lips. Then she dropped the bomb, her voice all sweet venom.

"Don't tell me you've fallen for me already, Uncle. That's cute. But I'm not into older men."

She deliberately emphasized the last words, an apparent jab at Derek's age.

A vein pulsed at Derek's temple as he tightened his grip on the card. "Did you get shot in the mouth or something? Is it that hard for you to say something decent?"

"Consider it so," Flora replied indifferently. Truthfully, her mood today had plummeted to rock bottom. Not only did she feel like spewing venom, she felt like killing someone.

If she were crazy enough, she'd grab a torch and a can of gasoline, storm the Selena mansion, and burn the whole place down-along with those hypocrites inside it.

"Goodbye. Hope we don't meet again." Flora closed the door behind her.

Derek sat motionless for a moment. Then, his fingers brushed against another card in his pocket-Flora's student ID. The photo showed a girl with the lingering innocence of adolescence, but her eyes held a cool indifference, paired with a cocky smirk that didn't match her youth.

"Eighteen?" Derek murmured. If he remembered correctly, he'd just turned twenty-seven, right? That meant he was nine years older.

Why did Derek suddenly feel like a cradle robber?

His gaze fell on her name again: Flora. It sounded familiar like he'd heard it somewhere before, but he couldn't quite place it.

A sudden realization dawned on Derek. Wasn't that the name of his young fiancée? An idea sparked in his mind. He immediately called his friend, Alex, to investigate her.

Surely the world couldn't be that coincidental?