Edward Stephens subtly withdrew his gaze, turned, and opened the door to leave.
He leaned against the doorfra, took out a cigarette, and slowly lit it in the quiet air.
As the ash fell onto his fingertips, he suddenly realized that he had unknowingly grown accustod to using nicotine to calm himself.
Once he had asked Daisy Ginger to quit smoking; in the end, it was he who beca addicted.
Loving soone is truly the height of absurdity.
*
After half an hour, Daisy Ginger opened the door.
She had changed into the dress he brought, her tear-stained face washed clean, yet her face was pale, looking a bit listless, lacking spirit.
The brightness that belonged to her was shrouded by the shadow of her dim eyes.
Edward Stephens raised his hand, softly stroked her cold cheek, then reached out to hold her chilly hand.
Daisy Ginger was clearly unwilling to be touched by him but knew she couldn’t resist, reluctantly allowing him to lead her downstairs.
The Stephens family mansion, only during the year-end family banquet do the extended family and direct line co over from their respective companies to gather; usually, it remains very quiet.
Robert Stephens lived on the other side, far from here, almost never coming to this part.
Therefore, when Edward Stephens brought Daisy Ginger downstairs, she only felt the silence.
When she was brought over yesterday, she hadn’t had a good look; now, calming down a bit, the villa’s antiquity and solemnity beca apparent.
Oil paintings and landscapes hung in the corners, delicately and ceremoniously frad, pristine as new; the entire villa’s decor carried a touch of European and Chinese style, yet without the kitsch of East-ets-West, clearly ticulously designed by soone, acquiring a richness over ti, enduring and tiless.
A family’s heritage might be gleaned from the owner’s taste.
Daisy Ginger, at most a second-generation-rich, if compared to the colossal Stephens, it seed the Gingers wouldn’t even have the value to do business with them.
No wonder, the woman nad Charlotte Smith amicably told her, "Daisy, you are not worthy of him. You are not the woman who stands by his side."
A family that can casually enter Harvard is indeed sothing she cannot compare to.
Marrying Edward Stephens was her, Daisy Ginger, looking up.
Robert Stephens doesn’t like her as his sister-in-law, despises her background, much like a father disapproving of his son’s wife, preventing them from being together.
Daisy Ginger doesn’t know how she ended up being scrutinized and looked down upon by others, but if it ant passing through Robert Stephens’ hands, letting Edward Stephens divorce her, it seed barely an issue.
At least, in this regard, her interests align with Robert Stephens’.
The man lowered his head, observed her silence, and asked, "What are you thinking about?"
"Thinking about how to divorce you."
The man curled his lips into a smile, uttered two words: "Dream on."
Daisy Ginger raised her head to look at his face; his smile bore gloom, his gaze was commanding; even in his gentleness, he belonged to this monuntal family, inherently noble and proud, not tolerating rebellion.
Yet her Edward was the gentlest youth, never willing to reject her in the slightest.
At this very mont, it also clearly distinguished these two people.
Daisy Ginger’s heart ached dully; she missed her youthful love, yearned to return to Banyan City, wanting to embrace their mories, not permitting anyone else to invade or tarnish them.
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