"It hurts so much inside that I need to have a life-or-death struggle with Natalie Niles every day just to feel a bit better!" "I couldn’t bear to force myself on you, so when you said you needed more ti to evaluate , I listened and let you take your ti!"
"And what happened? You turned around and slept with an old man! Why didn’t you evaluate him? Because he gave you a lot of money! So your so-called evaluation of was just an excuse! You’re a liar too!"
Cora Ginger stood there, frozen by his words, her face pale, unable to cry even a single tear.
"It’s not like that. At the ti, I was at a dead end, and my family was in a ss owing lots of money. I didn’t want to burden you! I knew you worked hard for your money, and I couldn’t transfer such a heavy burden to you!"
Connor didn’t want to listen; in his heart, everything was over.
Their fates had co to an end.
If Peter Barnes had not stopped giving money, if he were still taking her to various banquets and balls, letting her experience so-called high society, she wouldn’t have co looking for him.
Connor felt like a backup plan.
He was already in a bad mood, and now it was even worse.
He pushed Cora Ginger out the door, closed it, and went to the bedroom to sleep.
This bed that Natalie Niles slept in, the quilt she covered herself with, Connor wrapped himself in it and embraced it, mories flooding him.
He didn’t know when he would hold her next ti.
Had he known it would be like this, he should have thrown Johan Niles out that day she slept here and held her to sleep together.
...
The night passed, the sun, indifferent to human suffering, rose without a care, spreading its endless heat.
Isabella Weaver got out of the living room, ready to head to work, and at a glance, she saw Connor standing outside.
Her eyes showed undisguised admiration: "Connor, you look very handso today!"
Connor was wearing a deep sea blue shirt, black trousers, dark brown leather shoes, his short hair neatly styled, exposing his forehead, his deep blue eyes sparkling like sapphires.
He smiled, "Thanks to the guidance of the Young Madam!"
Harry Hunter turned Isabella Weaver’s head, "What are you looking at him for? Isn’t your husband handso? Why are you complinting another man first thing in the morning?"
Isabella Weaver reached up to adjust his shirt, stood on tiptoes, and kissed his chin: "My husband is the most handso! Number one in the world! As for Connor... he can only be second."
Harry Hunter was satisfied, took her hand, and got in the car to drive her to work.
After dropping off Isabella Weaver, Harry Hunter kept staring at Connor.
Connor felt uneasy: "Young Master, don’t look at like that, it feels like you want to tear apart!"
Unexpectedly, Harry Hunter nodded, "You do look a bit handso today."
Connor’s heart soared with joy; it was rare for the Young Master to complint him? Did the sun rise from the west?
"But you’re still a notch below ."
Harry Hunter’s expression was indifferent, "That’s why your girlfriend left you."
Connor’s soaring heart shattered into icy bits: "Young Master, you’re so sharp-tongued!"
"I have two pieces of news about your woman, one good, one bad. Which do you want to hear first?"
Connor grew instantly tense: "Sothing happened to her?"
"She’s alive. With how cunning she is, dying wouldn’t be easy. Even if the world ended, she’d probably still survive."
Harry Hunter spoke with a calm deanor, "Alright, I’ve given you the good news. Now for the bad news."
Connor was almost in tears: "That’s the good news? What kind of bad news could it be!"
"The bad news is, she’s now in a den of thieves."
Harry Hunter paused, "Moreover, she’s one of the thieves there. Lucas Chambers is currently on orders to hunt her down."
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