In my past life, Daniel was injured while skiing and missed Isabella’s last birthday. He resented me until his dying breath.
I shook my head.
“No. If your father is upset, just tell him it was my idea not to go.”
Daniel froze, surprised at my refusal. Then he sneered.
“So you’ve learned to play hard-to-get? Whatever tricks you’ve picked up, I’ll never fall for you.”
Seeing me bow my head in silence, he frowned again.
“Upset just because I scolded you? If you want to ski, just say it. I’ll pick you up in two days.”
He was always like this—dangling false hope just when I resolved to stop loving him.
I gave a bitter smile and raised my head calmly.
“Daniel, I don’t want to go.”
This time, I wouldn’t repeat the same mistake.
His face darkened.
“Emma Scott, you say no now, but later you’ll run to my father complaining about me.”
So that was the reason for his rare compromises—fear of my “complaints.”
Before I could respond, Isabella suddenly appeared.
She looked startled, then clung timidly behind Daniel.
“Miss Scott, I didn’t mean to intrude. Don’t be angry. Daniel left his tie at my house last night. I just came to return it.”