His Personal Fucktoy? This Doll Just Snatched His Strings... And His World Is Unraveling novel Chapter 67

Chapter 1

After our intimate moment, I turned to Piotr and said,

“I want to get married.”

Piotr’s face darkened as he put on his clothes. Then he gently coaxed me,

“Sweetheart, I’m anti–marriage. Don’t you think it’s better if we just stay in love forever?”

He kissed me on the corner of my mouth and then, using work as an excuse, left.

I stayed in bed, staring at the untouched cake on the table. Next to it was a little red book

with the words “Marriage Certificate” written on it.

I had always thought Piotr was someone who didn’t want marriage, who didn’t want to be tied down, which is why he had refused my repeated suggestions to get married.

But today, in the depths of the closet, I found that marriage certificate. Piotr had been

married for six years, and today marked the anniversary.

What a coincidence.

My phone rang, and I answered.

“Leila, your grandfather’s not doing well. He’s been asking about you getting married. When will you bring your boyfriend home so we can meet him? Let’s set a date for the wedding, so your grandfather won’t leave with any regrets.”

When I heard my mother’s words, my heart sank. I fought to suppress my sorrow.

“Mom, I’ll bring him home in a couple of days.”

After

my mom hung up, I spent the next few days packing my things.

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After work one evening, I was sitting on the couch, eating instant noodles and watching a

TV show when the door opened. Piotr walked in, carrying an umbrella, followed by a woman draped in his suit jacket.

He bent down to hand her a pair of slippers, as though he had done it countless times

before.

But Piotr had never done that for me.

As I was stunned, our eyes met.

Piotr explained,

“Leela, this is my friend. She just came back to the country and doesn’t have a place to stay. She’ll be here for a couple of days.”

Leela’s gaze swept over me with an invasive look before she extended her hand and

introduced herself.

“Hi. I’m…”

“Leela Miller,” I interrupted her.

Piotr was clearly surprised.

“How do you know her?”

Leela quickly answered,

“We were classmates and shared the same mentor.”

I didn’t tell him that I knew her name from the marriage certificate.

Leela suddenly threw her arms around Piotr’s and said, playfully,

“Piotr, I’m hungry~.”

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Piotr gently pulled her arm away and warned,

“My girlfriend is still here. Don’t get too touchy–feely with me. If she gets upset, you’ll have

to stay at a hotel.”

Piotr walked over to me, picked up the bowl of noodles, and gently scolded me with a hint

of affection,

“Leila, eating instant noodles isn’t healthy. Why don’t you ever listen to me? Let me make

something better for you.”

As he turned toward the kitchen, Leela sat across from me and began talking as though she

hadn’t noticed the tension.

“Miss Hall, I just realized we look alike, even our names are similar. When Piotr called me, I

thought he was talking to me. He used to call me ‘Leil‘ as well.”

I froze, my hand pausing mid–motion. My name is Leila Hall, but my friends and family call

me “Leila.” Piotr, on the other hand, calls me “Leil.” I had asked him once why he called me

that.

He had smiled, rubbing my head, and whispered in my ear,

“That way, I can show how different I am.”

Hearing those words again, I felt my ears burn, but I never argued with him about it.

But now, as I thought about it, I wondered if Piotr had once called her “Leil” too.

Was he really looking at me when he called me that, or was he looking at someone else through me?

The thought weighed heavily on me, as though a massive stone was crushing my chest, making it hard to breathe.

Piotr returned with a bowl of soup.

“Leila, I made your favorite seafood soup.”

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He placed the bowl in front of me and, after giving Leela a quick glance, also served her a

bowl.

“Today, you’re benefiting from my girlfriend’s generosity, so eat up.”

I looked at the bowl, then stood up, grabbed Top Rman from the kitchen, and walked toward the bedroom.

Piotr’s expression darkened.

“Leila, what’s going on now? I come home, make you soup because I care about you, and you’re giving me that attitude?”

I turned to face him and smiled bitterly.

“I’m allergic to seaweed.”

Piotr’s face instantly showed discomfort as he mumbled,

“I clearly remember that you loved this soup. You’d always beg me to make it on weekends.”

Leela tugged at Piotr’s sleeve, her eyes mocking as she glanced at me.

“Piotr, it was me who loved the seaweed shrimp soup. I used to beg you to make it for me.”

Piotr froze, looking like he wanted to explain but was at a loss.

I turned without a word and entered the bedroom, sitting down with my laptop.

Half an hour later, the door was knocked open, and Leela walked in, holding a bowl of clear noodles.

I looked up briefly, then coldly said,

“Get out. I’m working.”

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His Personal B1

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Leela, seemingly oblivious, walked over and placed the bowl on the desk.

As I reached to move my mouse, my arm brushed against hers, causing the bowl to fall with

a crash.

The hot broth splashed onto her arm, causing it to immediately redden and swell.

Some of the soup splashed onto my laptop, which went black instantly.

Panicked, I rushed to wipe down the laptop. The project design for an upcoming bid was on

it, and I couldn’t afford to lose it.

Fuming, I clenched my fists and fought to keep my hands from striking her, stepping

toward Leela.

“I told you to leave. Didn’t you hear me?”

Leela’s eyes immediately filled with tears, her voice tremulous with feigned innocence.

“Piotr, it’s my fault. I just wanted to bring some soup because I felt guilty for not eating myself. I never meant for anything to happen. Please don’t blame Leila. She didn’t do it on

purpose.”

Piotr rushed in, his face instantly turning cold as he saw the broken bowl on the floor and then turned his gaze to Leela’s arm.

His expression hardened.

“Leila Hall, apologize to Leela.”

I raised my eyes and gave him a bitter smile.

“Apologize? I didn’t do anything wrong. Why should I apologize? She doesn’t deserve it.”

With a loud slap, Piotr’s hand connected with my face.

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The force made me stumble, and I fell to the ground, glass shards from the broken bowl

embedding into my palm and arm, blood seeping out.