Her affection for Calvin wasn’t romantic—it was familial.
Though Camilla had said the same thing before, hearing it directly from Melissa carried far more weight.
Vicente turned the words over in his mind, the lingering bitterness in his chest dissolving without a trace.
His deep, inscrutable gaze remained fixed on Melissa.
"The reason I wanted to see Calvin was to ask him to help calm my brother’s anger—to convince him to accept us."
Seeing Vicente’s silence, Melissa assumed he didn’t believe her.
Her brows furrowed, and her voice trembled with unshed tears as she pressed on.
"I’ve always been playful, but I’ve never done anything this reckless before.
Who knows how furious my brother must be?"
Until her brother gave his approval, the weight of this matter would continue to press heavily on her heart.
I misunderstood you and Calvin," Vicente murmured, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her damp cheek.
"And as for your brother... you don’t need to worry.
Taylor’s already agreed."
His voice was low and deliberate, rough with emotion yet soothing.
"In a few days, I’ll take you back to san Francisco."
Melissa blinked, her tear-damp lashes fluttering as she stared at him in confusion.
"How can you be so sure my brother agreed?"
"Both Sinclair and Calvin are here," Vicente’s lips curved into a smirk.
"If Taylor had any objections, he would’ve sent you back to san Francisco long ago, wouldn’t he?"
Melissa’s delicate brows furrowed.
Come to think of it, that did make sense.
Meanwhile, inside the Jeep parked behind the G-Class.
"Helena, it’s been over half an hour—how come Boss Vincent still hasn’t managed to calm Sister-in-law down?"
The long-haired guy shot a puzzled look at the car ahead.
"You think that spoiled little princess is easy to handle?
Vicente’s gonna have to shed a layer of skin today before she lets this go," Helena rolled his eyes and shifted his posture, scrolling lazily through his phone.
"Just keep waiting patiently."
The long-haired guy sighed sympathetically and was about to pull out his own phone when he suddenly noticed something rubbery stuck to it.
His face instantly darkened.
"Helena, your... thing fell off."
Helena couldn’t be bothered to turn around.
"What fell? Be more specific."
The long-haired guy was speechless.
"Your boobs fell off."
Helena sat up and smacked the back of his head without hesitation.
"Watch your language next time.
That kind of phrasing will get flagged by the censors."
Helena reached over, picked up the item, and carefully repositioned it over his chest.
Instantly, two towering peaks rose where there had been flat ground.
Long-haired guy: "..." If he weren’t so outmatched, he’d have cursed him out right then and there.
Meanwhile, inside the black G-Class.
So, my brother already gave his silent approval.
Melissa’s heart had just settled when another thought struck her, sending it right back into her throat.
She glared at Vicente, fuming.
"Even if my brother agrees, it doesn’t matter. *I* don’t. I’m breaking up with you."
Vicente’s dark, ink-like eyes instantly sharpened, but he softened his gaze just as quickly, as if afraid of scaring her.
His voice was low and measured when he spoke.
"Melissa, don’t say things like that lightly.
His earnest tone made Melissa’s heart clench, yet the lingering resentment in her chest kept her from softening.
"What does it matter if you’re upset?
I’m even more upset than you are!"
As she spoke, her nose tingled again, and her vision blurred uncontrollably with unshed tears.
"Fine, if it was Camilla- who invited you to the restaurant, I could let that slide.
But who was that woman sitting beside you afterward, clinging to you, all sweet and cozy?
And then you had the nerve to bring her to the bar to rub it in my face?
You’re unbelievable!"
Vincent’d forgotten about that.
Vicente exhaled inwardly in relief.
"That... wasn’t a woman."
"If not a woman, then what—a man?"
Melissa’s almond-shaped eyes widened in disbelief.
"Vicente, I saw it with my own eyes! How dare you lie to me?!"
"I—" Vicente knew no amount of explaining would convince the person in his arms.
"I’ll have him explain it to you himself."
Melissa scoffed, turning her face away.
I don’t want to see her, and I don’t want to watch you two put on some act.
I’m leaving right now—" Vicente cupped Melissa’s face in his hands and leaned down, gently silencing her chattering lips with a kiss, cutting off whatever she was about to say next.
But fearing she might bristle like an angry kitten, he pulled away almost immediately.
"Be good," he murmured, his voice tender.
"If you still have any misunderstandings after meeting her, you can do whatever you want."
Before Melissa could respond, he had already pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
Now," he snapped, his tone a stark contrast to the gentleness he’d just shown her.
Melissa noticed the abrupt shift in his attitude toward the woman on the other end of the call, and confusion flickered in her eyes.
*Knock knock knock—* The passenger-side door was rapped from outside.
Vicente frowned, irritation lacing his tone. "This isn’t a bedroom.
Before he could finish, the door swung open.
A stunning woman in a curve-hugging miniskirt stood before them, her figure turning heads.
"Just being considerate," Helena said with a playful wink at Melissa, her lips curling into a knowing smirk.
"Didn’t want to interrupt anything... *private*."
She leaned against the doorframe, her voice deliberately low and husky—the same deceptive tone she’d used before.
"So, little Vincent, what’s the emergency?"
Melissa’s eyes flashed with fury as she whipped her head toward Vicente.
"*This* is the explanation you promised me?"
A vein throbbed at Vicente’s temple.
His gaze locked onto Helena as he bit out each word. "Keep talking like that and I’ll cut out your tongue."
The words were laced with barely suppressed fury.
"Tsk tsk, how ruthless," Helena rolled his eyes at his friend before turning to Melissa with a dazzling smile.
"Miss Taylor, I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Vicente’s friend—just call me Helena but my name is Rogan Spencer."
This time, he spoke in his natural voice—clear, melodious, and rich with a magnetic charm.
Anyone hearing it would instantly picture a radiant, handsome man.
Melissa’s eyes widened in shock.
"This voice... how can it—?"
Amused by her reaction, Helena arched an eyebrow.
"How can it belong to a man?"
Melissa nodded reflexively.
Helena threw his head back and laughed, his grin widening.
"Because I’m actually a man."
Melissa’s brows furrowed tightly.
Her scrutinizing gaze traveled from Helena’s flawless face down to the ample curves in front of him—nothing about him suggested masculinity.
Could it be some kind of voice-changing talent?