Chapter 709 Betting Life for Wendy
Wendy noticed that Francis wasn't looking at her, and her good mood soured.
She walked up to Francis and said, "Doesn't this dress look good on me?"
She knew what kind of clothes Dulce had bought and had the store clerk get her the same style—a yellow long dress.
However, her figure and complexion weren't as good as Dulce's, so she had to get a larger size.
When Wendy put it on, it really didn't look good. Her overall demeanor, complexion, and hairstyle didn't match at all. She had some weight around her waist, her butt was a bit flat, her shoulders were broad, and her chest sagged a bit. Wearing this yellow dress, she looked silly and not attractive at all.
Overall, Wendy was just an ordinary woman, blending into the crowd without standing out.
Francis was looking down at his phone, scrolling through Instagram, and happened to see a post from Dulce.
Dulce was also wearing a yellow long dress. She had a great figure, her hair was tied up high, showing off her beautiful collarbones. She looked tall and stunning, very eye-catching.
Standing next to Dulce in the photo was Maggie, and the two were having coffee at Sunset Hills.
Wendy was too noisy, so Francis looked up and finally noticed she was wearing the same yellow dress as Dulce.
Men also know beauty and ugliness, and their brains have the most instinctive reactions.
Francis frowned, "Wendy, when did you buy this dress?"
"This afternoon. Does it look good?" Wendy smiled and twirled around to show herself off.
This dress cost over eight thousand dollars.
When she bought it, Wendy didn't feel the pinch, but now she did.
She hadn't even removed the tag, hiding it inside the dress.
Francis realized Wendy was imitating Dulce and said, "Wendy, everyone has their style and personality. Just be yourself."
The smile on Wendy's face collapsed, and she looked at him very disappointedly, "You don't think it looks good?"
Wendy clutched the dress tightly, raising her voice a bit, looking like she was about to cry, "I'm already yours. After we move Edward's grave, we should set a date for our engagement. Isn't your mom coming? Perfect, both families can sit down and discuss the wedding."
"Wendy, I can't marry you," Francis said guiltily. "I won't marry you. I'll compensate you. You can have any compensation you want."
"I just want you to marry me. I'm already yours," Wendy cried, her tone firm and somewhat aggressive. "The whole station knows about us. How can I face people? Neil knows too. They're all expecting us to get married. What's wrong with me being your wife? I'll work hard to change, to be as beautiful and capable as Miss Quixote."
No matter how emotional Wendy got, Francis didn't change his mind. He patiently said, "Wendy, even if there were no Dulce, I wouldn't marry you. We're not suitable, and it's impossible. Do you understand? You were Edward's wife. If I marry you, it would be unfair to Edward. Besides, I don't like you. We wouldn't be happy."
Francis made it very clear and decisive. He should have dealt with this a long time ago. He wanted to give Wendy an explanation, but he really couldn't marry her.
Marrying a woman he didn't love for a lifetime would be very painful.
"Edward is dead," Wendy lost control of her emotions. "I just want to marry you, Francis. You owe this to me, to Edward. You have to repay it for a lifetime."
Francis got angry too, "I'll give you my life. Do you want it?"
These words were like a thousand arrows piercing Wendy's heart.
A man would rather die than marry her. How humiliating is that for a woman?
Wendy's tears kept falling. She wiped them away and said, "Brianna is still waiting for me at home. I'll go back first, and then I'll come again tomorrow."
Wendy left after saying that. She still couldn't bear to have a complete fallout with Francis.
Wearing an eight-thousand-dollar dress, Wendy had just reached the hospital entrance when she encountered a janitor cleaning. She wasn't paying attention and knocked over a bucket of water, dirtying her dress.
Wendy's face turned green at that moment. An eight-thousand-dollar dress, now dirty, couldn't be returned.
Angry, Wendy vented her frustration on the janitor, "What's wrong with you, putting the bucket here? My dress is dirty now. You have to compensate me, eight thousand dollars."
The janitor, hearing eight thousand dollars, got anxious too, "You tripped over it yourself. It's not my fault. You look so poor, and you dare say it's an eight-thousand-dollar dress? Can you even afford an eight-thousand-dollar dress? I think you're just trying to scam money."
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