Alpha's Regret: False Mate, True Luna novel Chapter 149

Chapter 149

The bedroom was actually filled with my mother’s belongings from when she was alive.

I immediately saw that familiar painting, freezing in place it was painted by my mother, a painting of me.

When I was taken away by my father, my mother’s things were all left in this little house, along with everything from my childhood.

All these years, I had been looking for this painting.

At that time, I was just a little girl, wearing a white dress, sitting on the balcony, holding a large bouquet of flowers, my face full of smiles.

My mother sat in front of the easel, her eyes gentle and kind painting me stroke by stroke.

That was the softest and warmest image of her in my memory.

I walked over step by step, gazing at the painting, as if seeing the scene of my mother painting while laughingly telling me not to move.

I reached out, my fingertips gently touching the canvas, my voice choked: “I thought… I’d never find this painting again.”

This painting had little value; it was something my mother painted for me privately.

So I had always thought it had been casually discarded long ago.

I never imagined that Ferris could actually find it.

He stood behind me, quietly watching without speaking, as if finally confirming – this time, he had given the right gift.

After a while, he stepped forward, saying softly: “You can take all these things back to the villa,”

I understood the meaning behind his words he didn’t want me to leave, he wanted me to be reluctant to go.

I took a deep breath, wiped away my tears, turned to look at him, my eyes full of gratitude: “Thank you.”

Terris looked at me and suddenly said in a low voice: “Don’t throw tantrums anymore. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”

throw tantrums?”

My heart skipped a beat, the light in my eyes dimming.

12-40

Chapter 149

I said nothing, only nodded and gave a vague response.

He took out a black card from his pocket and handed it to me “You can use this card freely.”

1 paused, looking at the card without reaching for it.

During our marriage, he never gave me money directly, always having Simon transfer it instead.

But only after I left him did he realize – I had never touched cent of that money.

I looked at the card in his hand, feeling no joy, shaking my head indifferently: “No need, I have money.”

His fingers stiffened, the card suspended in mid–air, not withdrawing for a long time.

He was silent for a moment, as if explaining, yet also probing: “We’re… partners now, aren’t we? This is my salary card.”

After all, after this month, everything between us would be completely settled.

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