Isabella Weaver leaned against Harry Hunter’s chest, clearly feeling his strong heartbeat.
She didn’t know when it started, but she began to like his embrace a little.
This is really not a good sign!
Not far away, Cherry Lewis sat in an inconspicuous black Buick, watching the two people holding each other. Her fingers dug deeply into the palm of her hand, and her features twisted with jealousy.
She thought Harry Hunter was just playing around, using a waitress to provoke her, but she didn’t expect it to be real!
However, when Harry Hunter got married, none of his friends knew, and the Lewis Family didn’t receive a wedding invitation, which showed that he didn’t take this waitress too seriously. Otherwise, he would definitely have given her a wedding.
When they got engaged, the scene was so luxurious and grand, inviting elites and nobility from both dostically and internationally!
Unfortunately, she was too willful, ssed it up, and angered Harry Hunter.
Otherwise, how could there be anything about this waitress now!
Harry Hunter, with his sharp instincts, couldn’t see anyone in the darkness, but he was sure soone was spying.
He coldly scanned the area, took Isabella Weaver into the car, and left.
Cherry Lewis didn’t expect Harry Hunter to be so perceptive. She specifically chose an inconspicuous corner, an inconspicuous car, hidden in the dark, yet he still sensed her.
He is indeed still that kind of excellent man who makes people swoon!
After a few years of not seeing him, he has beco even more cold, even more composed and calm, exuding the charm of a mature man from the inside out.
A lowly waitress who couldn’t make an appearance dared to covet Harry Hunter, dared to occupy his embrace, and Cherry Lewis clenched her teeth in anger.
She took out her phone and called ho, "Dad, I want to marry Harry Hunter!"
...
Isabella Weaver refused to go to Harry Hunter’s villa, so he sent her back to the guesthouse.
Then, he followed her in.
Isabella Weaver felt a bit of a headache, "Why are you coming in? Aren’t you going ho?"
"You’ve been to my house several tis, and I entertained you thoroughly. I can’t even co in and sit at your place?"
What he said...made a lot of sense, and she found she couldn’t argue.
Isabella Weaver forced a fake smile, "Mr. Hunter, please co in."
Harry Hunter tapped her forehead lightly with a hint of subtle gentleness, "So unwilling."
He entered the living room, sat down, stretched his long legs, and took up most of the space.
Isabella Weaver originally thought the guesthouse she chose was okay, but once he was there, it seed particularly cramped.
Fortunately, he knew about her financial distress; he’d seen her at her most embarrassing monts, so Isabella Weaver wasn’t worried about him being disgusted and just felt especially relaxed with him around.
She poured Harry Hunter a glass of water and said, "Make yourself at ho," then sat down at the desk and began sketching.
Although Harry Hunter had co by in the morning, he left after breakfast and hadn’t taken a close look.
He took Isabella Weaver’s water glass, drank from it, and feeling rather good, slowly took a look around.
The original owner of the guesthouse was quite ticulous, with a clean and tidy house, all in a simple white style, cool and calm, sowhat like Isabella Weaver’s temperant. This was probably the main reason she chose this place.
However, the little wife certainly didn’t know that this place was already his.
With Isabella Weaver working, Harry Hunter didn’t disturb her, and casually picked up a book from her desk to flip through.
A small house also has its advantages; the two of them sitting there created an atmosphere of peace and warmth, with nothing but the sound of Harry Hunter turning pages and Isabella Weaver’s pencil strokes.
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