understand.
But I understood perfectly.
Then came the questions.
Where did I live?
How much did I earn?
Did I have debt?
Why would a 24-year-old woman want a 99-year-old man?
One evening, Diane finally said it directly.
“You can tell everyone whatever romantic story you want. But I know what you’re waiting for.”
She meant his money.
I said nothing.
There was no point arguing.
Two weeks later, William unexpectedly came to my apartment.
The moment I opened the door, I knew something was wrong.
He looked exhausted.
He sat at my tiny kitchen table, remained silent for a long time, then finally said,
“Sophie… I need to tell you something.”
I sat across from him.
His hands were trembling.
“I’ve lost almost everything.”
I froze.
“The investments. Most of the business. The house may have to be sold.”
Then he looked directly at me.
