Love Burned, She Rose Unscathed

Murray's face was a mask of barely contained frustration and impatience.

He glanced at the clock. It was only 8 PM, yet his phone had been ringing off the hook at home-four or five times already. Three of those calls were from his mom, and the other one was from Millie. He figured she knew he wouldn't pick up after one try, which showed some restraint on her part.

Still, that hardly calmed his irritation, especially knowing an outsider was now living in his villa.

Cliff checked the time. "What, calling it a night already? It's still early."

Murray didn't respond. Cliff could tell, despite Murray's outward composure, he was on the verge of exploding, so he didn't push further-

"My driver's downstairs. I'll have him take you home."

"Thanks."

"All formal with me?" Cliff set down his beer. "Let me walk you out."

Murray waved him off. "Nah, keep the party going."

As Murray's figure receded into the distance, York couldn't help but chuckle, a mix of sympathy and schadenfreude in his laughter.NôvelDrama.Org owns this.

"Some guys hunt all day only to get pecked in the eye by the prey. Millie's really got a hold on him, huh?"

Cliff sighed. "Cut him some slack. He's probably not feeling great..."

"If it were me, I'd feel like I traded a watermelon for a peanut, only to choke on that peanut. I heard Roseanne got into Kingswell University for grad school. She's all about cutting ties and hitting the books now..." "We even bet on how long Roseanne would keep up her antics, not realizing she was dead set on moving on and living her own life. Tsk, tsk..."

Over the years, York had watched Murray and Roseanne's tumultuous relationship of breakups and makeups, never imagining it would truly end.

After all, Roseanne was really patient, putting up with six years, probably aiming for marriage in the end.

Frankly, York couldn't respect a woman like that.

No backbone, like a dog, always running back at the slightest call from Murray.

But now, it seemed that dog was a wolf in disguise, managing to manipulate two men and turn best friends into sworn enemies, now avoiding each other like the plague. Well, you've got to hand it to Roseanne...

York suggested, "Why don't we call Corley Sullivan over now that Murray's gone?"

Cliff shook his head. "You call him. What if Murray comes back and they run into each other? We'd have a volcanic eruption and an earthquake. I'm not risking it."

"Look at you, scaredy-cat!" York pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Hey, Corley, come hang with us."

On the other end, a deep voice answered, "No, thanks."

"Murray just left, no worries about bumping into him."

"It's not about him."

York was puzzled. "Then what?"

"I'm keeping it straight. No bars, no staying out late, no drinking unless it's absolutely necessary. Basic manly principles, get it?"

York was baffled. "You okay? What's with the sudden virtue?"

Corley simply replied, "I'm getting my act together."

"For Roseanne?"

"Yeah."

...

Slumping into the car seat, Murray closed his eyes, rubbing his temples wearily.

He found the car's air conditioning too strong and cracked the window a bit to let in some fresh air. The cookbreeze and the passing lights did little to ease his mind.

Despite his discomfort, his frustration persisted.

Beverley had opposed his decision to break things off with Millie. Just a week ago, she had hired two nannies and had Millie move into the villa to ensure she was well-cared for during her pregnancy.

Part of it was to look after Millie, but it was also a clear statement to keep an eye on him.

Learning that Millie had approached Beverley, he had been furious.

He had agreed to give her money for an abortion, aiming for a clean break, but she had reneged and used his mother to secure a spot in the villa.