Part 3Flowers for a Liar

At three in the afternoon, I arrived punctually at the appointed office building to meet the agent.

Down the opulent hallway, through a slightly ajar door, I caught sight of Louis.

He was dressed in a well-tailored suit, head bowed, fiddling with his phone.

Beside him, a woman, elegantly dressed, leaned intimately against his shoulder.

The moment I saw her, I recognized her.

Two days ago, the flower shop received an order for nine hundred and ninety-nine roses.

Because the customer specifically requested the thorns not be removed, I’d painstakingly wrapped every single one, my hands bleeding.

When I personally took a cab to deliver them, the recipient was this woman: Tiffany Chase.

At the heart of the bouquet was a small card, as requested by the customer:

“To my lifelong love, Tiffany. From: L.D.”

It was only then that I realized L.D. stood for Louis Davies.

He knew perfectly well that I, desperate for money, wouldn’t turn down such a large order.

So he deliberately made those demands, watching me scramble like a fool.

The thought of it brought tears to my eyes, almost making me laugh.

After returning home that day, I had even excitedly shared with Louis how much money I’d made.

As he tenderly bandaged my wounds, was he, in his heart, calling me silly again? Viewing me as a joke?

As I wiped away the tears, the agent arrived.

Seeing me standing at the door, he asked, puzzled,

“Miss Lord, the landlord is inside. Why don’t you go in?”

My eyes, still tearful, widened in shock as I looked at the agent.

“Who did you say? The landlord? Louis Davies?”

The agent looked bewildered.

“Yes, didn’t you know? The entire block on Central Street belongs to Mr. Davies.”