Old Mr. Foster shot back mercilessly, “You’d need to get a girlfriend first before you can even think about continuing the family line.”
Dylan glanced towards the apartment entrance and turned the car around, his voice losing its edge. “Well, I have to wait for the right opportunity, don’t I?”
Old Mr. Foster sneered, “You didn’t make a move before she was married. You just sulked while she was married. And now that she wants a divorce, you’re still acting like a coward. I’d say your chances are slim. Who would look at a mutt on the ground after they’ve been in love with a god in the heavens?”
Dylan fell silent.
With a tongue like that, his grandfather should have been a diplomat, not a soldier. He could probably kill off half the world's foreign dignitaries just by talking to them.
*
The apartment, left to her by her mother, had actually been passed down from her grandmother.
While the location was decent, not too remote, it was in an older building.
The light on her floor was faulty, flickering on and off.
Sometimes, you had to stomp your foot hard, until it went numb, just to get it to flicker on.
Today was one of those days.
Isabel stomped her foot while digging for her keys in her bag.
But the light wouldn't come on.
The moonlight from outside was too dim to see the keyhole clearly. Just as she was about to use her phone as a flashlight, she sensed someone behind her.
Her scalp tingled instantly.
As she was about to bolt down the stairs, she was grabbed by the shoulders and slammed against her door with a thud, a sharp pain shooting through her back.
Every hair on her body stood on end. Before she could scream, the hallway light suddenly flickered on.
The man's handsome face came into view.
Seeing it was someone she knew, Isabel let out a breath of relief.
But because it was Adrian, that breath caught in her throat.
She raised a hand to shield her face, afraid he was here to retaliate on Selena’s behalf.
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