He Went to Hell for Me, But I Let Him Go
As Yvonne’s final, teasing words fell, the sound of muffled intimacy drifted from the next room, followed by the soft click of a closing door.
Celia quickly stepped away from her own door, retreating back to her bed. Lying down, she shut her eyes, but her face had turned pale.
For a brief moment, she couldn’t help but find herself both pathetic and laughable.
“Celia Quinn, what are you even thinking?” she whispered bitterly.
When she had seen Lucas’ panicked expression earlier, an absurd thought had flashed through her mind—that maybe, just maybe, those love letters were written for her.
But now, after hearing his conversation with Yvonne, she knew just how ridiculous that idea had been.
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