20
Marcus’s hand naturally wrapped around my waist. His expression carried a polished smile.
“Uncle, Auntie. It’s been a while-”
Before he could finish, Miguel suddenly lunged forward and punched him straight in the face.
“What kind of nonsense are you saying?!”
Marcus took the blow without flinching, shielding me with his body.
Blood seeped from the corner of his lips.
He raised his hand and wiped it away, the warmth in his eyes turning cold.
“Marcus, are you okay?”
Worried, I cupped his face gently, checking him with care.
Miguel stood frozen, stunned by the quiet intimacy between us.
Once upon a time, that gentleness had belonged to him.
Back when he was filming nonstop and forgetting to eat, he had developed chronic stomach issues. One episode even led to a gastric hemorrhage.
At that time, I had been by his side for years, always strong and composed in front of others.
When Miguel woke up, I was quietly seated at his bedside, gently wiping away my tears.
“You cry so ugly… like a little raccoon,” he murmured weakly, lifting a trembling hand to brush the tears from my cheeks, giving them a soft pinch.
‘Belle, I haven’t seen you cry in a long time.”
I let out a watery laugh and swatted his hand away.
“You still have the nerve to joke. I was worried sick about you.”
From that day on, no matter where he was, I made it a point to prepare every meal myself and bring it to him personally.
Miguel snapped out of his trance and shot Marcus a sharp glare.
‘Belle is my woman.”
Marcus gave a cold, mocking laugh. “She hasn’t been for a long time.”
He lunged forward, and the two of them quickly clashed.
Miguel, having grown thinner from filming, was no match. He was soon overpowered.
Even as he threw weak punches, his voice rang out, hoarse and desperate.
“Stay away from my Belle!”
Marcus’s eyes turned red, each punch hitting harder than the last.
“Didn’t you swear you’d take good care of her?”
“And now you have the nerve to stand here and point fingers at me?”
That one line stunned me. When had Marcus ever made such a promise to Miguel?
But I didn’t have time to think. I rushed forward, forcing the two of them apart.
Their faces and bodies were bruised and bloodied, marked by fresh wounds.
The moment I saw the cut on Marcus’s cheek, my expression darkened. “Let’s go.”
1 supported him as we walked toward the door. The driver was already waiting outside.
“Belle, give me a kiss, and it won’t hurt anymore.”
I shot him a sideways glare. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Behind us, Miguel lay sprawled on the ground, helpless for the first time in his life.
He stared at our retreating backs, a flicker of despair in his hollow gaze. Reaching out with trembling fingers, he called out, “Belle… I’m hurting too…”
I paused.
His eyes lit up with fragile hope. “My face… I think it’s broken…” he murmured weakly.
I stood still for a moment, then sighed lightly. “That has nothing to do with me anymore, Miguel Go find someone else to take care of you.”
