Obsessed With You

Doreen Pulitzer was bombarded with calls and messages from the debt collection company, her fingers swiping across the screen.

【According to the commission from the relevant company, your mother, Ms. Shirley Graham, owes a total of 400 thousand dollars. This matter is now being handled by us... As Ms. Ye is currently unreachable, you, as the guarantor, have the obligation to repay the debt...】

【If you continue to ignore our calls, we reserve the right to take legal action. At that time, we will send personnel to your residence and workplace to gather more information...】

The north wind howled, slicing through her skin like icy blades.

Doreen Pulitzer's fingers, already red from the cold, stiffly opened the contact list and dialed her mother's number.

The phone rang for over ten seconds.

"Hello, the number you are trying to reach is temporarily unavailable. Please try again later—"

She pressed the power button, cutting off the mechanical, cold female voice.

She then called her best friend, who was a detective, hoping she could help find her mother.

"Hey, Judy—"

"Muxi! Did you see the twitter? That scumbag Harry Bruno!!"

Doreen Pulitzer's breath caught in her throat. Even though they had broken up half a month ago, hearing her ex-boyfriend's name still caused an emotional stir.

"What happened?"

"You haven't seen it?" Judy Green said angrily, "How long has it been since you broke up, and he's already announced his new girlfriend! Posting these half-naked photos, with a childish, sour caption. It's so disgusting..."

The voice in the earpiece seemed distant, and Doreen Pulitzer involuntarily opened Harry Bruno's twitter. The top post was made half an hour ago.

A woman straddling Harry Bruno's lap, exposing her bare back, Harry Bruno's arm wrapped around her waist, his face buried in her neck, only his eyes visible, staring straight at the camera.

The background was a kingsize bed in some hotel.

Caption: Sharing private romance with the public.

Judy Green said, "I suspect this scumbag cheated on you for a long time!"

"Maybe."

The cold wind rushed into her mouth, her throat feeling as if it were being cut.

Judy Green was a bit worried, "Are you okay?"

"No."

Doreen Pulitzer changed the subject, telling Judy Green about her mother's situation, asking her to help find where her mother had gone, but not mentioning the debt.

After hanging up, she smoothed her wind-tousled hair and quickly returned to her apartment.

She must have caught a chill; her head felt heavy, and her limbs weak. After a hot shower, the discomfort didn't ease but worsened.

She didn't usually keep cold medicine, so she opened a drawer to find some sleeping pills, but the bottle was empty.

She put on a long down jacket over her nightgown and went out.

It was midnight, and the nightlife in H City was just beginning.

Her doctor had once said that adults' ways to relieve stress were often alcohol and sex, and of course, medication, though that was the last resort.

Doreen Pulitzer walked into a bar and ordered a martini.

The kaleidoscopic lights reflected in her cold, oppressive eyes, the fruity, pink liquid sliding down her throat, burning her stomach, but slightly alleviating the pain in her temples.

She ordered three more.

The bartender kindly reminded her, "This drink is quite strong. Take it slow."

"Is that so."

She responded absentmindedly.

Her slender index and middle fingers held the crystal glass, gently swirling it, then tilting her head back to finish it in one go.

The glass clinked softly on the wooden counter as she turned her head, brushing aside her long hair that had fallen over her shoulder.

A beam of orange light fell on her porcelain-like face, her clear, black-and-white eyes slightly fogged by the alcohol, her moist, red lips slightly parted, unintentionally seductive.

Even the bartender, who had seen countless beauties in the nightlife, couldn't help but pause.

A group of young girls, dressed lightly and heavily made-up, with neon-colored eyeshadow, had gathered nearby.

Doreen Pulitzer glanced at them, thinking, youth is truly wonderful.

One of the girls, with dreadlocks, drunk, mistook Doreen Pulitzer's gaze as a challenge, "Auntie! What are you looking at?!"

The bartender frowned first, but Doreen Pulitzer remained indifferent, continuing to drink.

The girls chattered, words like "match," "sleepover," and "excitement" occasionally popping up.

The night was alluring, and desires rose. Most people here were seeking indulgence.

A crisp ringing sound, and the girl with dreadlocks suddenly exclaimed, "Look, look! This guy is driving a Maybach! So cool! I'm going to hit the jackpot!!!"

"Let me see!"

"Holy crap! He must be a super-rich consortium heir! We need to milk him for all he's worth!"

The others looked envious, and the girl with dreadlocks was smug, "He said he'll be here in ten minutes!"

Perhaps due to a natural animosity towards beautiful women, the girl with dreadlocks turned to Doreen Pulitzer and snorted, full of disdain.

Doreen Pulitzer paid for her drinks and pushed the door open.

The cold wind hit her face, and the weather forecast predicted snow tonight.

She looked up at the heavy night sky, the lights making it as bright as day, revealing the thick clouds hanging low.

The wind grew stronger, whistling through her down jacket.

Turning to leave, her foot not yet stepping out, she caught sight of a man across the street.

Dressed entirely in black, leaning against a black Maybach, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a phone. Too far away to see his face, the wind ruffling his hair, his gaze piercing through the traffic.

Their eyes met.

Doreen Pulitzer couldn't describe her feelings, a jolt running down her neck.

Remembering the "Auntie" comment from the girl with dreadlocks, she felt a surge of anger.

Crossing the traffic, she walked up to the man.