My Flash Romance With the Richest Mogul novel Chapter 1821

Manfred couldn't help but wonder if Vivian had been frightened by the sight of his scars.

The hatred he held for those people burned hotter with each passing moment. It was a fire that refused to be extinguished, a consuming force that demanded retribution. He wanted them to suffer—to regret their very existence.

Revenge was close, almost within his grasp. He would ensure their entire bloodline paid for their transgressions if he never saw Vivian again. Little by little, they would face the consequences of what they had done to him.

Something at his sleeve caught his attention as his thoughts spiraled deeper into vengeance.

It was food that Vivian had left behind—a sandwich, still warm.

The scent carried a trace of her presence, a fleeting comfort in his bleak world.

The suffocating hatred gripping his heart began to ease. Slowly, he unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite. He savored the taste and the warmth it brought, then washed it down with water.

The blankets around him added to the comfort, their warmth seeping into his body.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like this, at my worst," he murmured.

If he had the choice, he would never let her witness him in such a vulnerable state again. He wanted her to see him strong, whole, and unbroken.

…

The next day, Vivian tried to return to him but was unable to make the trip. Still, she held on to a quiet hope. Just because she couldn't go today didn't mean she wouldn't be able to in the future.

At first, she could only stay for half an hour, but yesterday, she managed to stay for almost two hours. So, things could change. It was just a matter of time.

He had known she was there the moment she arrived.

There was something about her presence that didn't belong here—a subtle, refined scent that was calming and comforting.

Looking at Manfred, Vivian said, "This is ridiculous. I'll take care of her."

Manfred shook his head, his lips curving into a faint, gentle smile. "No need. It would only dirty your hands."

He would handle these people himself, one by one. There was no need to involve her.

Her hands were too delicate, her fingers too fair and pure. Even the thought of a single drop of someone else's blood touching her made his fury rise. If anyone dared to stain her, they would pay dearly.