Floating beside him, I couldn't help but smile bitterly.
Grayson hated me to the core.
Three years ago, his precious Chloe had a miscarriage, and she pinned the blame on me.
Grayson saw me as a heartless, evil woman and imprisoned me in this deserted private estate.
He made me reflect on my "sins."
I was locked up for three years, and during that time, he never thought of me.
Now, making this call felt awkward to him.
But the phone didn't even ring once; it just went straight to voicemail, saying the number was disconnected.
Grayson cursed angrily, "Good one, Mila. Are you hiding on purpose, huh? Do you think I can't find you?
"Go ahead, keep hiding. Let's see how long you can keep it up!"
Suddenly, exaggerated laughter came from a corner behind him.
Grayson angrily turned around and saw a drunken bum sitting by the wall in the weeds.
The man's clothes were ragged and torn, and he held a broken bottle, looking drunkenly at Grayson.
"Stop shouting. The person inside has been dead for a long time."
The drunk laughed again, a sad laugh, so pitiful it was hard to tell if he was laughing or crying.
"Where did this deadbeat come from?"