"Then please consult with before you act in the future. You can’t just make people disappear or cause companies and schools to shut down. It scares ."
Harry Hunter’s face remained cold: "Okay."
"If you have difficulties, you need to tell . I’ll tell you what I’m doing too. We need to continue cooperating; we can’t divorce for now."
Harry slowly released Isabella Weaver’s hand and stood up: "Let’s go, let’s go out for dinner."
His expression and tone were as indifferent as usual, but Isabella could still feel that he was angry.
She was very touched by what he did for her, but she didn’t want to drag him into unnecessary trouble because of her. Christopher Weaver couldn’t have any issues, and if there were issues, they should absolutely not be because of Harry Hunter.
She didn’t care about Christopher Weaver; she didn’t care at all.
But in her heart, she cared about Harry Hunter.
When she talked about divorce, she wasn’t speaking lightly. She always felt that their marriage was rely a transaction, different from others.
The stronger and more mysterious he beca, the more she felt like she wasn’t in the sa world as him.
Soday, they would separate, wouldn’t they?
Isabella followed Harry out the door, got into his car, and lowered her lashes, saying nothing.
Harry didn’t speak either; he was naturally reticent. Usually, it was Isabella who spoke to lighten the atmosphere. When she didn’t, there was a chill in the air.
He parked the car at a restaurant he often frequented and led Isabella inside.
The restaurant boasted a graceful environnt, with several long-haired won playing the piano and violin in the center, creating a high-class ambiance.
The waiter seed to recognize Harry and respectfully guided him to his usual spot.
Isabella followed behind, surveying the layout and design of the restaurant, feeling she should further educate herself in this area.
She walked a bit slower, and when Harry reached the table, she was still two or three ters behind.
When she snapped out of her admiration for the artistic design, she noticed two won standing in front of Harry.
And one of them, she happened to have seen before.
Harry’s forr fiancée—Cherry Lewis.
Isabella paused, not moving forward.
Because she clearly heard Cherry saying, "Brother Harry, you still enjoy coming to the place where we first t for dinner, and you like sitting at our old spot."
Harry didn’t look at her, coldly opened the nu, and said to the waiter, "Two portions of Arctic sweet shrimp."
As soon as he spoke, the woman beside Cherry exclaid, "Oh my, Cherry, isn’t this your favorite dish? Your fiancé really cares about you, always rembering!"
Cherry’s face was full of sweet smiles, her voice overflowing with joy: "Hallie, sorry, I can’t have dinner with you; I need to accompany my fiancé. Let’s et next ti!"
Hallie teased her, "You, haven’t changed a bit over the years. You drop your friends when you see your fiancé! Forget it, I don’t want to be a third wheel here, watching you flaunt your affection, I’m leaving!"
Hallie had just taken a step when she heard Harry’s icy, ruthless voice behind her: "You can scram too."
She quickly retracted her foot, turning back to look at Harry in disbelief.
The "you" he just ntioned was definitely not referring to her, so that ant... Cherry?!
"Brother Harry!"
Cherry’s smile turned forced, her voice bitter: "Are you still mad at ? What exactly do you want from ? Haven’t I already admitted my mistake?"
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