The sleek black car came screeching to a halt right before Angela.
"Where do you think you're going?" Oliver's voice cut through the air, his frown deepening as he noticed her wearing only sandals.
Angela sniffled, trying to steady herself. "I’m… taking Nala to get dewormed."
The sky above darkened, a storm clearly brewing.
"Get in the car," Oliver ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I’ll take you."
Angela hesitated for a moment, but the words slipped out anyway. "Thank you, Uncle," she muttered, climbing into the car without another word.
Gwen, sitting beside Oliver, seemed in a good mood. She chatted happily with him but never missed an opportunity to glance at Angela through the rearview mirror.
"So, how old is Angela this year?"
"Twenty-one," Oliver replied, focusing on the road ahead.
"Does she have a boyfriend?"
Angela froze momentarily, then shook her head, not wanting to say anything.
Gwen's voice was playful as she continued. "Look at you, Oliver. There are so many eligible bachelors in your circle. Don’t you know anyone who’d be a good match for your niece?" She leaned in, her tone soft and teasing. "I’ve got a cousin, a distant nephew. He's the perfect age and status. What do you think about introducing them?"
Just then, the car came to a screeching halt as the traffic light turned red. Oliver quickly turned to her, his gaze warm, almost tender.
When he didn't respond immediately, just offering a smile, Gwen nudged his arm, her voice impatient and amorous. "Come on, Oliver, tell me what you think!"
Oliver's smile widened, and he raised a finger to trace the outline of her lips, clearly fascinated by her.
Gwen's face flushed a deep red, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. For anyone watching, young lovers always had that aura of sweetness about them.
But Angela? She just turned away, staring out the window, lost in darkness.
If it weren't for the sudden sneeze that caught her off guard, she could've kept staring for much longer.
"What's wrong?" Oliver asked, his voice sharp as he turned slightly to glance at her.
"Sorry, Uncle," Angela mumbled, trying to hold herself together.
"Oliver, I think I’m allergic to cat fur..." Gwen half-heartedly covered her nose with a hand, shooting Angela a look through the rearview mirror that was anything but subtle.
Oliver's expression shifted, his eyes narrowing as he looked into the rearview mirror.
"Get out of the car, Angela," he said coldly.
Angela opened her mouth, ready to argue, but Gwen cut in as she said, "It’s fine. I can hold on. Angela’s almost there, right?"
With that, Angela checked the new address on her phone—only two more kilometers. She thought everything would be fine if she could drop Nala off. Oliver would understand.
But now, it felt pointless.
The car had already stopped at the side of the road. Oliver tapped his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, a sign of impatience.
"I'll just get out of the car," Angela said softly, gathering her things and exiting the car, clutching the cat in her arms.
The rain came pouring down in sheets, instantly soaking her through. The car sped off, its headlights disappearing into the distance. Angela didn't even have time to avoid the rain. She was drenched from head to toe in seconds.
By the time she reached the cat shelter, she was completely soaked. After drying off, the shelter owner began the usual check-up on Nala. To Angela's surprise, they found a small cut near the base of Nala's tail—a scratch from a claw. Angela hadn't cried throughout all this, but when she saw that tiny injury, tears flooded her eyes, frightening the shelter owner, who quickly tried to comfort her.
"It’s fine, it’s just a little scratch. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her," the young woman reassured her quickly, but Angela could barely hear the words over the sound of her own sobs.
"How much is a cat like Nala worth?" Angela asked.
The owner paused, considering the question. "A purebred like her, with such a rare color and excellent quality? At least $70,000 or $80,000. You’re not… you’re not going to sell her, are you?"
The shelter owner's eyes widened, and Angela quickly shook her head, desperate to clarify.
"No, no," she stammered, wiping away her tears. "This was a gift from a friend. I just want to return the favor."
Nala had been a gift from Oliver. A ragdoll cat that he'd brought back from Northern Europe. Angela knew she'd have to return all the other gifts, but Nala?
Nala was different. She'd grown attached to her.
For now, Angela planned to board Nala at the shelter. When things settled down, she'd come back to pick her up. By the time Angela got home, it was already 11 p.m. She stopped at the front door, eyes falling on the high heels by the entrance. That was all she needed to know.
Oliver had brought Gwen home.
Without thinking, Angela looked at the dining table, but no food was left. It suddenly hit her that he hadn't waited for her to have dinner in a long time.
She looked at Oliver's room upstairs. The lights were on in the bedroom and the study area.
Angela tightened her grip on the hem of her skirt, then let go, only to grab it again as if trying to make up her mind. After a moment of brief internal struggle, she finally approached his room.
