The Devil's Good Girl-Chapter 243: Reminisce

Fil sat by the bar counter. She watched Jackson cook and prepare their dinner. She offered help, but he refused.

Wearing an apron with his sleeve rolled up to his elbow, the veins in his arms looked so pleasing to the eye. With those prominent facial features and those naturally sharp eyes that would only gleam in her direction, her heart still fluttered.

"Is there an occasion?" she asked. "You seemed to be in a good mood."

"I am simply giving you a preview of what your married life looks like," Jackson humored as he finally stopped stirring. "Chris told me that wedding jitters are real, but normal. So, he told me to make sure you won’t change your mind."

Fil laughed.

Since when did Jackson start listening to Chris? But knowing him, he probably asked a few others about it before he believed it.

"Wedding jitters, huh?" Fil mumbled as she suddenly thought about it.

She heard about them before, but Fil was never married. Although she was engaged before, a wedding date was never set. So, she didn’t really have anything to expect. Her busy schedule also took part in her impassive outlook on weddings before.

"You’re not marrying a bad man." Jackson leaned over, resting his hand on the edge of the counter opposite her. "I’ll keep reassuring you that even after you say I do."

Fil smiled warmly. "I know you will. I don’t have those yet, but I don’t think I will back out."

"But just to make sure." He winked at her and resumed doing the plating.

Fil watched him.

It was almost a year since she first met Jackson. Looking back, Fil could see how her life changed so much in just a year. She wouldn’t have imagined her life would turn out like this a year ago. Her career was doing well, her family was healthy, she found good people whom she could confidently call her friends, and then a man who consistently treated her with love and respect.

"Ready to dig in?" Jackson peeked at her while doing the plating.

Fil nodded. "Mhm."

"Why did you suddenly turn quiet, sweetheart?"

"Nothing." She shrugged. "It’s just that I felt like we’ve come a long way."

"Hmm?"

"It’s been almost one year since the first time we met," she explained. "Ever since then, things have been different. It just makes me happy whenever I think about it."

Jackson carried the plates to her with a smile. "Me too."

"Who would have thought, right?" she adjusted her seat as he sat down on the stool beside her. "I bet you didn’t expect that we’d be together like this almost one year later."

"I did."

"Huh?"

"I mean, I didn’t think you’d accept me, but I did think there’s a chance we’ll be together after a year or so."

Deep lines appeared between Fil’s brows, watching his cunning smile turn up on his face.

*

*

*

[Almost one year ago...]

Jackson sat on the long lounge seat all by himself. He downed a glass of whiskey, snapping his eyes at the people around the room. His eyes then fell on the beaten down man two of his men were holding by the shoulder.

"That’s him?" he asked, his voice cold and devoid of emotion.

"Yes, Your Grace," said one of the men holding the injured man in the middle. "He’s the man who took down two of our kind."

The injured person was almost kneeling because of the injury he inflicted. However, the small injuries on his face were slowly recovering on their own.

"For an infected one left by Quentin, he surely lasted this long." Jackson’s voice was piercing, almost harsh. It snapped the injured man awake. "His abilities are even more like those of any other vampire."

Jackson slowly rose from his seat and marched toward the person. The latter looked up, only to shudder at the pair of eyes glinting down at him.

"You..." the man stuttered, forcing himself to enter an offensive mode because his instinct told him to flee.

For humans, status, wealth, connections, and influence were enough for one to know if one shouldn’t be offended. But for their kind, it was always based on the blood hierarchy.

Jackson’s blood was hard to distinguish, but the man knew he was worse than a monster. The lack of emotions in Jackson’s visage, the coldness of his gaze, and the harshness of his deep voice all point that no amount of pleading would ever change his mind.

"... monster — ah!" the man’s breath hitched when Jackson grabbed the top of his head.

"Hold him still," Jackson casually ordered as he locked his grip as if he were simply holding a ball.

"Ah...! Ah!!!"

His expression didn’t change despite the increasing shouts of the man. The latter tried to struggle. Hence, he pulled an aura to him to keep him still.

Those around who felt Jackson’s aura couldn’t help but feel their knees tremble. Others even fell on their knees at the heaviness Jackson exuded.

"Ahh!!!"

After a short struggle, the man’s neck stretched until his skin started to tear apart. After shouting his lungs out one last time, his head fully came off. And yet, Jackson’s expression didn’t budge.

He tossed the head to the side, watching some dark mist disintegrate from the severed part of his head and the neck. When Jackson took a step back, the men dropped the body.

"Make sure it disappears before you leave here," said Jackson while wiping his hand with a handkerchief. "Tell Alamo that the last infected is dealt with."

As Jackson walked away as if nothing happened, all the men inside lowered their heads. Usually, they would follow him and leave just a few to watch over the body until it disintegrate. However, they knew him. After taking down an infected, he always preferred to be left alone.

Outside, Jackson made his way out of the VIP area. He had his eyes on his hand, throwing away the handkerchief on the way. He didn’t feel the need to watch his step. This was a sealed-off area of the club. No one would bump into him here. And even if there was anyone who lost their way, he would hear their footsteps from a mile away.

He was wrong.

When Jackson made a turn, a figure suddenly turned up in front of him and collided with him.

"Ouch."

Gazing down, his heart thudded as he watched the woman before him meet his eyes. The thick layer of frost coating his eyes gradually melted the moment they held each other’s gaze.

’My Filomena.’