NovelBarHarold hesitated, his internal struggle apparent.
The silence stretched between them until Waylen finally turned to face him.
Waylen’s voice remained measured as he continued, “You can’t even admit your own feelings. How then can you discuss this with me? If we’re both vying for Rena’s affections, then at least we’re on an equal playing tield. We both desire her.”
Harold was moved, realizing that Waylen‘s concern for Rena ran deeper than he had assumed.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtWaylen had a genuine affection for her
Waylen, perceptive as ever, recognized Harold’s emotions
He smiled ruefully, grateful for Harold’s unspoken contributions. Before Harold passed away, he entrusted Harrison with Rena’s protection. In this dream, Waylen bore no resentment towards Harold. Taking a seat, Waylen motioned for Harold to do the same.
Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting a gentle glow on Waylen’s profile.
After a contemplative pause, Waylen began speaking, his voice steady.
“Harold, wouldn’t it be wiser to let go of Rena after signing the billion-dollar contract? It would secure the Moore Group’s future, sparing you from disappointing a woman who genuinely loves you. Your relationship with Darren would remain intact.”
Harold’s complexion paled. Never had he imagined that his carefully laid plan would be unraveled by the man before him.
For the first time, Harold found himself unnerved. “What are you implying, Mr. Fowler?”
Waylen calmly retrieved a cigarette, igniting it with practiced ease. After a deliberate inhale, he exhaled a plume of smoke, his smile enigmatic. “You understand me well enough, Harold. Don’t ask how I’ve come to know. I bear no ill wilt.”
In essence, they were romantic rivals.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmWaylen’s contemplations led him to believe that 22-year-old Harold would prioritize power over a romantic relationship with Rena.
Would you spare me a cigarette?” Harold’s request broke the silence. “Of course,” Waylen responded, extending the gesture with graceful ease.
Harold accepted the offered cigarette, ignited it, and took a deep drag. Waylen’s words held undeniable truth. Men should know what path to choose. It was clear that beyond securing the billion-dollar investment, Harold could forge connections with the influential Fowler family, achieving multiple goals in one stroke.
Harold smoked in contemplative silence, acknowledging the wisdom in Waylen’s assessment.
Standing up, he said calmly, “Thank you, Mr. Fowler. Here’s to a fruitful collaboration.”
Waylen remained seated, his gaze fixed on Harold.
Despite being the same age as the man in front of him, Waylen harbored a somber understanding that, in reality, Harold had passed away.
Harold assumed Waylen was putting on airs, yet Waylen rose and extended his hand, a gesture of respect that puzzled Harold. Waylen’s voice, laden with a quiet sincerity, reached Harold. “Harold, thank you.” Harold’s confusion deepened.
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