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Charlotte Thompson kept her mouth shut and remained silent, an eerie calm pervading the elevator as it ascended, cloaking the trio in a strange quiet.
When the elevator arrived at the thirteenth floor, Charlotte Thompson took the lead in stepping out, followed closely by Ryan Richard striding along with an air of nonchalance.
She had intended to ignore him and go touch up her makeup, but seeing Ryan about to follow her, she could no longer suppress the anger in her heart.
Charlotte almost gritted her teeth and asked, "Sir, what exactly do you want?"
Ryan, however, spread out his hands in an innocent manner, "I just want to talk to you."
Without a moment’s hesitation, Charlotte retorted sarcastically, "We don’t know each other, there’s nothing to talk about, there’s no need to waste each other’s time."
"There is a need," Ryan edged closer, Charlotte’s reflection mirrored in his eyes, "Sophie Allen, I want to talk to you."
Impatiently she hoped to dispel his fantasy: "Sir, I’ve said it many times, I am not nor do I know the Sophie Allen you speak of, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else."
At her words, he didn’t seem angry, continuing unperturbed, "In fact, you haven’t changed much. I mean I recognized you the moment I saw you, coming here was just to confirm, and now I indeed have."
Listening to the certainty in Ryan’s voice, Charlotte felt a shiver in her heart, though she didn’t let it show on her face. Instead, she patiently explained, "Sir, let me say it one more time and this will be the last, my name is Joy, I’m a designer, not the Sophie Allen you’re talking about. You’re causing me a great deal of distress."
He appeared to turn a deaf ear to her explanations, casually reaching for her hand, his voice gentle, "Charlotte, don’t you remember our college days? We barely knew each other back then but hit it off because we had so much to talk about. We both liked to read books in the library, and we walked around the sports ground and ate sweet and sour ribs together in the cafeteria..."
Ryan’s words were tinged with longing, his tone somewhat enticing.
It successfully evoked memories in Charlotte.
Indeed, their college days were undeniably beautiful.
She would never forget how they had to talk their way back into the dormitory after coming back late from a midnight snack, or how Ryan would always line up early in the dining hall because he knew she loved the sweet and sour pork ribs there, and how he would reserve a seat in the library in the morning...
These are things she would never forget and were hard to forget.
Even with their current circumstances, even after what happened later, she would never deny those beautiful days. Those days would always linger in her mind.
The affection and love of those innocent years, she did, indeed, genuinely like Ryan at that time. But that was in the past.
Because memories are, after all, memories.
She would never forget what the man standing in front of her had done. These were not things that could be erased with an apology, sweet words, or reminiscing about the past.
The Ryan she loved was long dead.
And moreover, the person he cheated on her with was Emily Allen, her wicked and detestable stepsister.
For her, at that time, it was devastating. She felt as if the sky was falling.
Now the instigator acted like nothing had happened and came to talk about the old times, the thought itself was disgusting enough to make her want to vomit.
Charlotte’s gaze towards Ryan was filled with undisguised loathing, causing a sting in his eyes.
Without any hesitation, she took out her phone, called the security, and kept a distance from him, watching him warily at the same time.
Ryan, however, didn’t panic, and upon seeing the rushing security, he hurriedly asked, "Do you still remember Emily Allen?"