No More Waiting, She Chooses Love
Chapter 701

Mentioning my father, Dustin fell silent, acutely aware that his own father was responsible for my dad's death.

"I guess I'll never enjoy meatballs the same way again," I said, looking at the dish Phipps had prepared, my words lacking sincerity.

I couldn't let Dustin suspect Phipps. I was now certain that Phipps was Ernest in disguise, which meant he had a purpose.

Though I wasn't privy to his motives, my role was clear: cooperate and avoid causing trouble.

"Felicia, I'm truly sorry about your parents," Dustin said, displaying the expression of a man burdened by guilt.

His pretentiousness sickened me, but I placated him against my better judgment, "It's not your fault."

He managed a bitter smile, "Felicia, you're a kind soul."

Yes, foolishly kind. I once thought I could forgive the harm his parents inflicted on mine, but I've realized that's beyond me.

Not wanting to continue the conversation, I turned my attention to the creamy pumpkin soup before me, its sweet, milky flavor providing a semblance of comfort. Phipps' culinary skills were undeniable, even surpassing Ernest's previous attempts.

When the time comes for him to admit he's Ernest, I'll have to ask if he spent these months perfecting his cooking instead of pretending to be dead.

"This is delicious," I complimented, under Dustin's watchful gaze.

"Do you have plans tonight?" Dustin asked, hanging onto every word I said.

"No, I was just speaking off the cuff," I replied, licking some pumpkin soup from the corner of my mouth.

Unaware of how enticing that must have looked, Dustin's gaze deepened, his Adam's apple bobbing, "How about dinner together tonight?"

His invitation was sudden but not unexpected, considering his pursuit of me.

I wanted to decline, but after some thought, I accepted, figuring it was time to give him a glimmer of hope after keeping him on tenterhooks for days. "Sure!" I accepted.

Dustin smiled, "What do you feel like eating? Chinese or Western?"

"Anything's fine, Dustin, you decide," I replied just as someone walked in, noticed us, and promptly left.

Dustin took his cue to leave, "I'll see you tonight then."

With him gone, I let out a sigh and turned my attention back to the meatballs Phipps had made.

The portions were generous, but I didn't leave a single bite, confident I wouldn't be hungry until the next morning after such a hearty meal.

After finishing the meal, I checked my phone and saw a message from Grant asking if someone was with me, hinting I might not be able to talk freely.

Clever of him, but instead of responding, I tried calling Deborah, only to replace her phone out of service.

I texted her, but got no reply.

It seemed Deborah had indeed

returned, despite her aversion and

fears. Why would she willingly go back, especially to a place as notorious as the Sapphire Lounge?

Something was amiss, and the more I thought about it, the more uneasy I felt. After a few seconds, I decided to call Phipps, convinced despite his disguise that he was Ernest and the

best person to look into

"Ms. Hudson..."

Hearing those words made me roll my eyes inwardly. He was playing his part, and I decided to play atong, adopting a coy tone, "Mr. Phipps, could you do me a favor?"