Chapter 1367:
Mistaking the gesture for exhaustion, Darden exhaled in quiet relief.
Perhaps sleep would grant his friend a brief reprieve, and dawn might soften the edges of grief.
Seizing the moment while Brandon’s lashes rested against his cheeks, Darden slipped his phone from his pocket and opened the chat labeled “Runaway Canary.”
He was determined not to repeat Brandon’s missteps. If his little canary loved his money, at least he still had a chance.
Deep in thought, Darden tapped the screen.
“Are you there?”
A reply flashed back almost instantly.
“You and Brandon are thick as thieves, aren’t you?”
Darden typed back without hesitation.
“Yep. He’s sitting right next to me in the car as we speak.”
She fired off, “Heart-wreckers, the whole lot of you! The pair of you ought to start a society called the Heartbreaker Club. Spare me any more messages. I refuse to trade words with you lot; it makes me sick.”
Darden started typing a protest, but the screen spat back a furious red exclamation mark.
He was blocked.
Just like that, Darden nearly hurled the phone at the windshield.
Back in the dressing room, the makeup artist expertly removed Millie’s smudged makeup and created a fresh, flawless look.
Alexia slipped in carrying a soothing balm, then knelt to smooth it over the raw ring of bruises circling Millie’s wrists, muttering half-audible curses at the universe.
Millie’s lips curved into a small, grateful smile as Alexia’s gentle fingers tended to her injury.
After a while, once Millie’s makeup was perfectly done, Alexia stayed close by her side.
The tales you love are at gⱯlnσν𝓮ℓs․cøm
“I want to stay with you,” Alexia said softly.
“This is… a lot.”
“Then when you and Sheridan have your wedding, I’ll watch over you, too,” Millie replied with a small smile.
“Deal!” Alexia grinned, squeezing Millie’s hands tightly.
“Millie, your happiness is what matters most, okay?” she added quietly.
“I hope you find happiness, too,” Millie said, her voice gentle.
“We’ll both find our happiness,” Alexia said, her voice full of conviction.
Millie nodded, confident that happiness awaited them.
Meanwhile, Myron had gone to change into a fresh suit, the previous one now crumpled from the long ride.
“Mr. Elliott, we’re out of the previous color. Is white acceptable?” the stylist asked.
Myron glanced over and gave a small nod.
It complemented Millie’s dress perfectly.
A makeup artist fussed over him, smoothing his hair and tidying up the remnants of wind and road from the motorcycle ride that had left them both slightly tousled.
Everyone moved quickly, and before long, everything was in place.
.
.
.