Lily and the Cold Billionaire
“Oh, you mean the one you pitied? The one who looked so tired and desperate? So you decided to pay her 300,000 dollars for a mere painting.”
My hands clenched into fists. Mrs. Smith scolded her, but the damage was done.
“I should get going.” I mumbled, placing the painting on the couch and heading for the door.
Bethany followed me, draping her arm over my shoulder. Her perfume was sickly sweet, just like her tone.
“Did you change your number?” She asked.
“I didn't.” I replied, curtly.
“Did you block me, Lily? I swear, we tried calling you, but your number just vanished!”
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