I rarely attend dinner parties with my parents, but today was an exception. I put on my dress and light makeup two hours in advance, constantly checking the time.

My mom reassured me. "Don't rush. If you're too hasty, the Cox family will laugh at you. Also, chat more with Dylan and ignore that wastrel Marcel."

I nodded and smiled in agreement, saying nothing.

What my mom didn't know was that I had been waiting for this moment for four years.

When we arrived at the dinner party, the Cox family was already there. Dylan Cox was seated upright and charming.

But Marcel Cox was nowhere to be seen.

Marcel's parents were fuming, their faces dark as they kept glancing at the door.

I bit my lip, anxiously watching, afraid Marcel might not show up.

Dylan and Marcel were cousins. Dylan's father was the eldest son of the Cox family patriarch, while Marcel's father was the second son. In this generation, Dylan and Marcel were the only grandchildren.

Dylan had always been outstanding, while Marcel was notorious for drinking, speeding, and fighting.

My parents hoped that I would develop a relationship with Dylan and that our families would unite after my college graduation. But all I wanted was to see Marcel.

When the main courses started to arrive, the door was finally pushed open.

A tall, rebellious-looking young man sauntered in, his buzz cut standing defiantly as he was chewing gum. His handsome face was filled with restlessness and gloom.

He was dressed in a leather jacket, black T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, with a helmet in hand. His look stood out in stark contrast to Dylan's laid-back outfit.

The people in the private room frowned. Marcel's father picked up his fork, ready to throw them at Marcel, but my dad stopped him.

Only I curled my lips into a smile, my eyes narrowing with joy.

Unfortunately, Marcel didn't even glance at me. He sat down and began eating, not speaking a word or even lifting his head.

My mom whispered in my ear, "See how rude he is? Stay as far away from him as you can."

I remained silent, thinking, 'He's actually a good person; it's you who don't know.'

...

Marcel's mental resilience was truly impressive. Despite the stunned gazes around the table and the atmosphere where Mr. Cox seemed ready to chop him up, Marcel ate contentedly, fully absorbed in his meal.

I was so tempted that I followed his lead, taking bites of the dishes he was eating. After a few times, Marcel shot me a look, like a cat with its fur bristled.

When the meal was over, our families had to exchange pleasantries at the restaurant entrance before heading home. But Marcel didn't linger for a second. He hopped onto his motorcycle and disappeared in a blur, the roar of the engine echoing. His speed was so fast that his figure was barely visible in no time.

Even my dad couldn't watch any longer and said, "Mr. Cox, this kid is a bit willful!"

Mr. Cox's face was red with embarrassment, and he sighed heavily. "I beat him eight times a day, but he doesn't listen."

My dad sympathized for a moment and then turned to Dylan. "Ellie is on vacation and has nothing to do. If you are free, I'll let Ellie come over to play with you."

"I'd be happy to." Dylan smiled kindly at me.

I smiled and nodded, but my thoughts were still on that rebellious figure.

The next day, my mom urged me to have lunch with Dylan. She was pleased to see me dressing up thoughtfully and joked that I was growing up and might soon be uncatchable.

I smiled and left, but instead of going to the Cox family company, I headed straight to Cox Villa.

Master Cox was old and wanted his sons and their families to move back to the old house. At this time, Dylan, being the outstanding one, was likely at the company, but Marcel, according to Mr. Cox, stayed up late and slept in, so he was probably catching up on sleep.

Sure enough, when I arrived at the Cox Villa, Marcel was in his pajamas, drinking milk. His hair was a mess, and his buttons were not properly fastened, exposing his muscular chest. He squinted at me with a ring of milk around his lips.

"Dylan's at the company," he said indifferently.

"I know," I nodded.

Marcel frowned. "Then who are you looking for? It's just me and Grandpa at home."

I tilted my head and smiled playfully. "Looking for you. Is that a problem?"

Marcel frowned again, glancing at my white doll dress. "I don't have time to entertain kids."

Ha, he's actually younger than me by a year.

"Marcel, how can you speak like that?" Outside the dining room, Master Cox's voice boomed. "A young girl comes to visit you, and you're being rude to her?"

I turned and saw Master Cox looking pleased, grinning at me. "Isn't she the little girl from the Lewis family?"

I ran over to greet them, and Master Cox patted my head. "Finally, a good child willing to visit Marcel. Little girl, don't be afraid of his rudeness. He's actually soft-hearted, like a hedgehog."

I earnestly agreed. "I know; he's really kind-hearted."

Marcel scoffed. "Do you know me well enough to say that? Hypocritical."

I turned to him and snorted. "I know. So what?"

Marcel sneered and ignored me, going upstairs.

Master Cox, fuming, tapped his cane and led me. "Come on, I'll take you to find him. How can this child be so ungrateful?"

I followed Master Cox upstairs with a smile. He threw open Marcel's door and said, "What are you doing up here? Why are you hiding when we have a guest?"

He pushed me into the room. I glanced at Marcel's attempt to hide his phone. The screen was displaying live surveillance footage of a living room where a yellow mutt was panting and tearing up the house. The sofa was nearly ruined, and the table legs were about to give out.

Seeing me peek, Marcel quickly put away his phone and shot me a thinly veiled angry look. "Aren't you going to find your ideal partner? Why are you bothering me?"

I shook my finger at him. "Dylan isn't my ideal partner, so stop saying nonsense."

"Then what are you here for?" Marcel's raised eyebrows held a hint of disdain. "You're not out fishing for a catch, are you?"

"Actually, yes, I'm hoping to catch you. Is that okay?" With Master Cox absent, I dropped my obedient facade and walked up to him with a grin, hands behind my back.

Marcel's face flushed red, mixed with a trace of anger. "I'm not a good person. Don't come bothering me—"

"You are." I interrupted him firmly. "You're a great person."

Marcel looked at me with confusion. "Are you having trouble with your eyes or is your brain not working properly?"

I smiled and changed the subject. "Can I see your dog?"

Marcel shook his head firmly. "No."

"Oh." I nodded. "But it looks really cute."

Marcel suspiciously asked, "What kind of dog do you have trouble affording? Why do you care about a mutt?"

"I just like mutts; they're smart and well-behaved." I spoke with genuine affection.

I really do like them.

Marcel's expression softened slightly. Reluctantly, he handed me his phone. "Just take a quick look."

I nodded, watching the video of the yellow dog with undivided attention, as it wreaked havoc in the house. I hadn't seen it for a long time.

Marcel observed me from the side. "You really do like Brice."

I was somewhat at a loss for words. "It's a girl, so you shouldn't call it Brice."

"How do you know it's a girl?"

I tilted my head and smiled. "I'm not telling you."

Marcel said, "You're just being mysterious."

At noon, Master Cox asked me to stay for lunch.

During the meal, Master Cox scolded Marcel non-stop. "Stop going against your dad. After getting beaten for over ten years, you still haven't learned your lesson. Look at all those injuries on you. Is that a new bruise on your face?"

Marcel ate quietly without speaking.

Marcel had a faint mark on his face, and if you looked closely, you could see a similar one on his neck, like he had been whipped.

I felt uneasy. "Master Cox, Marcel is such a good person, how can he still get beaten?"

Master Cox sighed. "His dad, not measuring up to his older brother, forces Marcel to be better than Dylan in everything, driving the kid into rebellion. Instead of reflecting, all he does is beat him senseless."

I bit my lip, feeling more unsettled. "Marcel is really good."

Master Cox smiled in surprise. "Yes, I also think Marcel is a good kid—smart and kind-hearted."

"Yes, yes!" I nodded vigorously.

Marcel tapped my arm. "Eat your meal and stop causing a fuss."

His tone seemed to soften a bit.

I smiled, keeping my head down and obediently eating.

After the meal, the old man asked Marcel to drive me home. Reluctantly, Marcel picked up his helmet, looked at my doll dress, and, with a cold face, put the helmet down. He grabbed the car keys and drove me to my doorstep.

When we arrived at home, he looked at me seriously. "Don't bother me. I'm not one of you pampered people."

I didn't respond and waved at him. "See you tomorrow!"

Marcel, annoyed, hit the gas and disappeared from sight.

Over the next few days, I visited Cox Villa from time to time.

My parents were thrilled and had already started imagining what my children with Dylan would look like.

I was so pleased to see Marcel begrudgingly come with me, trying to appear serious but failing, which was absolutely delightful.

Only Marcel wasn't happy. He was also confused. "Why are you constantly praising me? What's in it for you? My family's heir is Dylan. You should go block him at his company."

"I just don't want to." Hands behind my back, I grinned at him. "I just enjoy blocking you."

Marcel looked puzzled and impatient, as if viewing me as crazy. Finally, one day he couldn't take it anymore and fled back to his own home.

Marcel didn't live with his parents. Seeing him constantly beaten and being out of reach, the old master had given him an apartment in the city when he was fourteen, a place to hide from the beatings.

Unexpectedly, Marcel moved out and never returned home.

Seeing Marcel leave, I felt a pang of disappointment. Maybe he really had forgotten me.

The old master, leaning on his cane, scolded Marcel for being blind, then comforted me. "Child, don't think he doesn't like you. He was constantly checking the door for two days when you didn't come. He didn't even eat properly."

I smiled weakly, aimlessly wandering around after leaving the Cox family. Unconsciously, I ended up at the old Ferno Park. In the familiar place, I saw the tall figure and the running yellow dog.

I smiled, watching the yellow dog charge towards me. Marcel held the leash but didn't dare to yank it too hard. He ran over angrily, cursing under his breath.

The yellow dog dashed up to me, standing on its hind legs and pawing at me. It tore the neckline of my dress with a "rip."

I was shocked.

Marcel said, "Damn."

Brice felt happy.

Marcel reacted quickly, and the next second, he took off his black T-shirt and awkwardly put it on me, while he was bare-chested. People passing by looked at him, and his face turned red.

My face also turned red because Marcel's muscle lines were too smooth. Everything was there—six packs, V-shaped torso, you name it.

"What are you doing here?" He scratched his head irritably. "Why can't I avoid you?"

I was disliked again and felt a bit unhappy, so I went silent with a cold face.

Marcel glanced at me and scratched his head again. "I didn't mean it that way."

"Then what do you mean? Is this place owned by your family?"

"Strictly speaking, it's built by my family." Marcel's face was turning as red as blood, and nearby young girls were already pulling out their phones.

He simply picked up Brice with one hand to block his face, and with the other hand, he pulled me. "Let's leave first; this is too embarrassing."

He pulled me to an apartment building next to Ferno Park, entering the house I saw in the surveillance footage a few days ago.

The precarious sofa, the wobbly table legs, the torn cushions, and the scattered cotton on the floor were all there.

I exclaimed, "Brice, you're something else! You're a real whirlwind!"

Marcel corrected me seriously. "He's very well-behaved. It's just that when I went back to the old house recently, my friend didn't take good care of him, and he developed separation anxiety."

Brice stared at me with his round eyes, still laughing with me.

I patted his head. "You didn't get your walk finished earlier, did you? How about I take you for a walk now?"

Brice laughed, and Marcel, while finding his shirt to put on, said, "He's very alert and won't follow strangers—"

He paused halfway through his sentence, as Brice obediently followed me to the door.

"Brice, you..."

I winked at Marcel. "I'm not a stranger."

I'm definitely not a stranger; Brice is a dog I picked up.