CHAPTER 103: IF SOMEONE YOU LOVE HURTS YOU WILL YOU FORGIVE THE PERSON?

The evening breeze whispered softly as Beauty and Sarah stood on the great bridge, gazing at the surging river below.

The occasional blast of a ship’s horn punctuated the air, while vessels of all sizes dotted the water, their searchlights twinkling like countless stars scattered across the river’s surface, illuminating the night in a sea of lights.

The gentle wind played with Sarah’s ink-black tresses.

She absently swept the long strands behind her ear, her face an unreadable mask.

The silence between them was so profound it seemed to erase everything that had transpired earlier.

After what felt like an eternity, Sarah suddenly turned to Beauty, her delicate eyebrows arching slightly.

"Beauty, can I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

Beauty responded mechanically, resting her arms on the bridge railing and propping her chin on them as she gazed at the distant fishing boats and city lights.

It had been ages since she’d taken in paris’s nightscape.

Even when she did view the river, it was always from the Marson family’s villa—her room offered a distant glimpse of the southern riverbank and the bridge’s streaming car lights, tiny neon specks in the darkness.

But standing here now, face-to-face with the mighty River relentless flow, she felt an unexpected expansiveness in her chest.

The passing vehicles and crowds around them seemed to blur into insignificance, leaving only pristine stillness.

"What if," Sarah’s voice turned solemn as she fixed Beauty with an intent stare, her pupils dilating with anticipation, "someone you love does something that hurts you?

Would you forgive them?"

This question had haunted her for nearly eight years, ambushing her in lonely nights like a stone weighing on her heart, making it hard to breathe.

Beauty frowned pensively.

After two beats of silence, she replied evenly, "That depends. If it’s a matter of principle, then no—I couldn’t forgive that.

If you truly care about someone, how could you bear to hurt them in the first place?"

"Exactly!

If he truly cared, how could he hurt me like that?

All these years I never understood, but hearing you say it today, it’s like a light suddenly went on in my head.

Thank you, Beauty."

Sarah’s abrupt expression of gratitude caught Beauty completely off guard.

She knew this must be related to Drake, but since Sarah wasn’t volunteering for more details, she didn’t press further.

After all, it took courage for someone to reopen old wounds in front of others.

Lucas called Beauty to ask where she and Sarah were.

Beauty glanced at Sarah before obediently disclosing their location.

In less than ten minutes, a sleek black Rolls-Royce pulled up on the bridge, its headlights flickering intermittently.

Lucas sat upright in the driver’s seat, the window rolled down.

The river breeze tousled his jet-black hair, framing his sharp, handsome features and piercing eyes.

Beauty craned her neck slightly to peek inside the car, only retracting her gaze when she confirmed that a certain dashing, debonair face wasn’t present.

"I’ll take you both home," Lucas said coolly, his tone leaving no room for refusal.

Sarah gave a soft laugh and shrank back slightly.

"Just take Beauty home.

It’s getting late, and we all have to get up early tomorrow.

I’ll just call a ride-hailing service later."

"No way!"

Beauty immediately looped her arm through Sarah’s, her face etched with concern.

"It’s not safe for you to be out alone this late.

Crime rates spike during these hours—I can’t just leave you here by yourself!"

Before Lucas could respond, a cold chuckle escaped him as the car door swung open.

His dark, icy gaze swept over her briefly.

"Worry about yourself first," he said coolly.

Then, turning to Sarah with an impassive expression, his tone softened unexpectedly.

"Leave the car there.

I’ll have the driver pick you up for work tomorrow morning.

Don’t argue—just behave."

Beauty nearly choked in shock.

Since when had this cold, domineering man ever spoken to her in such a gentle tone?

Of course—treating a real socialite like Sarah was different.

But then again, it made sense.

Faced with a woman like Sarah, any man would find it hard to stay angry.

She couldn’t fathom what had gotten into Drake earlier—snapping at her like a rabid dog out of nowhere.

Sarah didn’t refuse again.

She knew Lucas’s temperament well enough not to provoke him further.

By the time they got home, it was already half past ten—way past Beauty’s usual bedtime.

Her sleep schedule was something she prided herself on, disciplined and predictable, like an old woman’s—early to bed, early to rise.

"Well... I’m going to turn in for the night..."

She made a move to slip away, but before she could take a step, a large hand clamped around her slender wrist, sending a wave of warmth up her arm.

"Wait."

"Huh?"

Her eyes widened, and she nearly bit her tongue.

Pressing her lips together, she lowered her gaze to the tips of her shoes.

"You look stunning today.

This outfit suits you perfectly—you might want to consider this style more often."

Beauty was speechless.

She hadn’t expected Lucas to suddenly say something like that out of the blue.

With a vague "Oh," she replied softly, "Sarah picked this for me.

She said it looked good on me."

"I know.

But you and Sarah have completely different styles.

You’re probably the only one who can make something this sexy look so fresh and innocent."

His voice, deep and resonant like a cello, seemed to hum with quiet amusement.

The little deer in Beauty’s chest kicked up a frantic rhythm.

"Are you... complimenting me?"

She tilted her chin up slightly, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"What do you think?"

Lucas countered, his grip tightening just enough to make her joints ache.

Where did this man get such strength?

It felt like he was trying to crush her bones.

Shrugging, Beauty answered, "Fine, I’ll take it as a compliment.

Now, can I go back to my room and rest?

I’m exhausted today."

As if on cue, a yawn escaped her, her eyelids growing heavy.

Lucas’s face blurred before her, splitting into five identical versions until her vision swam.

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her effortlessly.

Her exhausted body sank into a firm yet warm embrace.

Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest.

"I’ll carry you up.

I don’t want someone calling in sick. his deep voice rumbled.

Was he worried she’d stumble and break her leg in her dazed state?

Beauty was momentarily speechless, unsure how to retort.

Her thoughts spiraled, conjuring up all sorts of wild, inappropriate ideas.

She mentally scolded herself—since when had she become so shameless?

Was this what they meant about bad companies corrupting good morals?

Before she could finish her internal musings, the man unceremoniously set her down and delivered a curt,

"Get some rest.

You’ve got an early morning tomorrow."

With a sharp *thud*, the door slammed shut behind him. ...