He Called Me Ugly. I Became His Biggest Regret. Chapter 04
An hour later. Marco’s message.
His version of an apology.
“Lucy. Whatever happened — whoever is right or wrong — I’ll take it all on myself. It’s on me. I’m sorry. Flowers are on the way. These are just small bumps. We’re spending our whole lives together. Let them go, okay?”
Then: “One tiny request. You didn’t tell your parents about any of this, right? Please. Don’t complain to them. I’m scared they won’t want to marry you off to me one day.”
There it was.
His real concern.
Not me.
My parents.
My father — the consigliere.
The one whose opinion actually carried consequences.
He knew he’d crossed a line.
He just thought — crossing a line with ME didn’t matter.
A few sweet words.
A bouquet.
I’d forgive him.
I always had.
But my parents were different.
A bad impression there was hard to undo.
Familiarity breeds contempt.
It’s a true saying.
But that’s fine.
We wouldn’t be familiar anymore.
From now on, crossing my line would come with consequences.
I typed my reply:
“Marco. You hid your thing with Valentina behind my back for over a year — while keeping me on the hook. You took my father’s work and handed it to her — then let her throw it in the trash. You called me ugly in front of the entire compound three days before the Commission gala, knowing exactly what was at stake. And now you’re talking about spending our lives together?”
“Are you worthy?”
“Out of respect for our history, I haven’t told my parents anything beyond what they saw with their own eyes. As for whether they’d accept a man who deceived and humiliated their daughter — you’re not stupid. Have some self-awareness.”
“I am grateful for the boy you used to be. For every time you protected me. I will always carry that gratitude. But our story — ends here.”
I hit send.
Then I blocked him.
His number.
His Signal.
Everything.
My mother suggested we leave the city for a while.
Within two hours, we were on the road to the airport.
Spontaneous.
Liberating.
By the time Marco arrived at our townhouse with his bouquet, the house was empty.
He rang the doorbell seventeen times.
Sat on the front steps for two hours.
When he finally left — his shoulders were stooped.
He looked nothing like the arrogant heir who’d called me ugly three days ago.
I watched it all on the security camera.
The man who’d been so arrogant, so coldly above me — turns out he could look pretty pathetic too.