Vicki cherished this little white bird, which was pure white and strikingly elegant.

She usually lavished it with attention.

Jarrod had interacted with it a few times before.

From the driver’s seat, Alec noted, “Miss Hampton usually keeps such a close watch on it.

It’s unusual for it to have flown off like this.

The bird seemed comfortable with Jarrod, not attempting to flee but gently pecking at his collar.

Alec laughed.

“Mr.

Schultz, it looks like it really likes you.

Miss Hampton has had it for over a year, and it remembers you more than it does her, despite seeing you only a few times.

Such an ungrateful little thing.

“Should I take it…” Before Alec could finish, a soft snap interrupted him.

“Squeak…” The little white bird lay lifeless in Jarrod’s hand, utterly still.

Alec was shocked.

This was Vicki’s beloved pet, and Jarrod had just killed it…

Jarrod looked down at the motionless bird in his hand, its white feathers still pristine even in death.

What a shame.

It just wouldn’t listen.

Much like Nicole.

Jarrod’s frustration was palpable as his thoughts once again shifted to Nicole.

He had devoted so much care to her, trying to win her over and handling her delicately, yet she had fled without a second thought.

Disobedient birds deserved punishment, and people weren’t any exception.

He was confident he would capture her eventually.

He just hadn’t decided on her punishment yet.

Nicole was stubborn and resilient.

Most importantly, she didn’t quite take to him despite his efforts, much like this bird, having fled away from its cage.

At times, he wished… He wished he could just break her.

Jarrod told Alec to keep driving and casually tossed the bird’s body into a trash bin, his expression icily detached.

Once he recaptured Nicole, he would ensure she could never escape again.

Even in death, she would only perish in his grip.

Nicole was in a cozy courtyard at the foot of the hills, trying her hand at knitting.

She aimed to knit Roscoe a soft cashmere scarf.

She had chosen a soft, misty blue for the yarn, a color that complemented him well, understated, pure, yet unique.

As she knitted in the courtyard, a bird perched on the wall and began to caw miserably.

Nicole felt disturbed by the noise and tried to scare it off.

But the bird seemed oblivious to her and continued to caw sorrowfully.

Growing more nervous, Nicole tossed a pebble at it.

The bird flapped away in response, leaving behind a single feather.

Nicole gazed at the feather, a wave of discomfort swelling within her.

She walked back and forth, trying to soothe her nerves.

Suddenly, a furry little animal brushed against her legs.

Looking down, Nicole saw it was Keith, who seemed to sense her distress and wagged his tail energetically to comfort her.

Watching Keith reminded her of Roscoe’s routine talks during his feeding, and gradually, her anxiety lessened.

She returned to her seat and resumed knitting the scarf, her fingers moving quickly.

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