Revenge to The Devil

In the silent night, any faint sound would have woken me up, even the vibration of a cell phone. I opened my eyes, it wasn't quite light yet.

"Which insane person would call her?

Irene tried to muffle her voice, but I was sensitive enough to hear the inconstant dialogue.

"Asleep?" she asked.

"Nothing unusual," she said.

"To... Let me contact a lawyer, and consult..." she muttered.

"I understand, " I heard her say.

"Feet... It looks like an ankle sprain. I saw her rubbing it for a while, " Irene said.

"Yes, I will, " she said.

I sighed faintly, that cold night when I was extremely vulnerable, a certain corner of my heart was moved by Shawn's silent concern.

I'd seen all he'd done for me in the last few months, but I always felt it was intangible.

But on such a lonely morning, his silent concern gave me a real and intense sense of existence. As for Shawn, he was flawless, he was lucky to have a great character.

"Why didn't I love him?" I wondered. I pondered over it, after a long meditation, I figured it out. Because he wasn't Jonathan Li.

The next day, as I woke up, Lucia told me that she had arranged a lawyer to meet me in a cafe nearby, an hour later. I freshened up immediately, tying up my long hair, putting on my favorite jeans and a long cotton shirt.

Looking in the mirror, I smiled and said to myself, "You're only twenty, still young."

Walking out of the door, I was thinking about how to face my wonderful future, but throngs of strangers came out and surrounded me.

"Desiree Li, what is the relationship between you and Shawn Donovan from Entertainment Company?" one of them asked. I thought about answering them, but more questions were constantly being raised.

"Why did you play the piano at Shawn's Birthday Party? Are you the "mysterious, delicate beauty " that the company focuses on at the expense of a huge amount?" they asked.

"You called Jonathan Li your dad yesterday. Is he really your father?" another one asked.

"Is it true that you are in love with Shawn Donovan?" was another question.

It was so noisy that I couldn't think. I tried to calm down, saying, "Please ask the questions one by one, I can't hear clearly."

One person seized the chance to ask first, "Are you Jonathan Li's illegitimate daughter? It's said that he has never been married."

That question was hard enough, too troublesome to answer; but if I was silent, it suggested the authenticity of the matter. So I replied, "Who verified that he hasn't married?"

"Did he get married?" was the question.

"Why has no one ever seen his wife?" another person asked.

I forgot that those journalists loved to catch vague bits of news. I interrupted their endless questions and said, "Please ask him the question."

Irene, who came out from the back, helped me out and said, "Sorry, Miss Li knows nothing about the matter."

"What is the relationship between you and Shawn Donovan?" asked another man.

"No connection... "I replied very firmly.

Then matt arrived on the scene and journalists rushed to him at once, a few kept taking pictures excitedly as if they had found the classic picture of the century. Hit by a reporter, I clenched my lips to endure a sharp aching pain in my ankle.

Irene held me swiftly, asking anxiously, "Are you okay?" I shook my head. It would take another month to recover. Shawn walked out from the reporters and said among the chaos, "No comment."

He didn't say anything, but his obvious protective behavior made it easy for anyone to guess our relationship?

At that moment, I wished the man was Jonathan Li, whose bodyguards would have pushed the journalists a meter away.

He just needed to say it coldly "Try to ask one more question!" Those annoying people would have disappeared without a trace. It's a pity that he didn't show up!

Irene looked at my feet, then whispered to Shawn, "Carry her first, I will deal with them."

She turned to the reporter and said, "Mr. Donovan wants to talk to Miss Li. They will call a press conference tomorrow to answer the questions, but no reply before then." Her words were so effective that the reporters turned to inquire about the time and place immediately.

Shawn seized the opportunity to carry me into the elevator. I was leaning against the elevator, my ankle stung and I was sweating.

"Desiree, let's get engaged," he said.

"You're joking," I replied.

I had not yet resolved my divorce problem, then he came to complicate the matter.

"I'm serious," he lifted my face and gently wiped the sweat off my forehead and said, "I really love you."