"Sabrina, are you saying that our engagement is off?" I asked coldly.
Frustration and disbelief weighed on me as I realized I’d ended my trip for this unexpected humiliation.
"Since you're here, let's meet!"
On the other end of the line, Sabrina had apparently spoken to a few people before saying, with a hint of sarcasm, "I'll send someone to pick you up!"
With that, she hung up.
Then, I saw a slicked-back man walk out. He walked up to me, glanced at me and a scornful smile spread across his face. "Are you Adrian Walker? I'm Miss Hartwell's assistant."
He looked at me and said, "Our young lady is a darling of heaven. She's even the richest woman in our city. You? You're not worthy of our young lady."
He sneered, "Look at how poor you are now. You don't really think our young lady will marry you, do you?"
Hearing this, I felt a mix of embarrassment and irritation as I glanced at him.
One glance told me everything—my clothes clearly displeased him and I felt a self-conscious prickle at his scrutiny.
Wandering from place to place the past few years, I hadn't bothered much with appearances. My wardrobe, having seen better days, was full of clothes that had become worn beyond recognition.