Charlotte refused, "No."
Robert Stephens imdiately flipped, "Then have him get out too."
Charlotte looked at him with an expression hard to describe, pressed her lips together, turned her face away, and shook him off as she left.
Never seen soone so shaless.
*
Though Robert didn’t get what he wanted, he agreed to let Charlotte bring Ryan Smith into the Stephens family.
He had soone co over to give Ryan an intelligence test, and although she wasn’t clear about the results, Robert didn’t say anything later, presumably satisfied with them.
— This Robert Stephens really seems to hate fools.
*
Ryan Smith’s mother passed away in the hospital bed two months later, on an early spring evening.
Compared to the last life, her ti of death was delayed by just over thirty days.
During these two months, Ryan had been by her side; their last monts together were sorrowful but without too many regrets.
Robert Stephens paid for a plot in a scenic cetery, a beautiful place with mountains and water. Ryan’s mother had no family, so the funeral wasn’t held, and Ryan personally carried her ashes to be buried.
That day, the sky was dim, drizzling rain fell, Chicago was still cold in early spring. After Ryan finished burying his mother’s ashes, Charlotte took Robert’s hand and went to the cetery entrance.
Ryan’s small figure stood in the vast and quiet cetery, appearing wet and quiet. Mist made it hard for her to tell if he was crying; only his bowed silhouette was silent in the moisture.
The man extended his hand, turning her face away from Ryan. His expression was sowhat grim, looking displeased: "Are you done yet? Who exactly is your man?"
Charlotte was forced to look at him.
Robert was wearing a black coat, with tiny water droplets collected on the white fur at the collar. His black hair was damp from the mist, hanging down softly; he looked entirely soaked.
Without a trace of hostility.
She couldn’t help but smile as she pushed him lightly: "You’re almost soaked through; go sit in the car."
"What about you?"
"I’ll wait for him here," she said, "What if he can’t find our car when he cos out?"
"Do you think he’s stupid?"
Robert was decisive, opened the car door, and pulled her inside.
The water droplets on his body touched her face, making her shiver with cold. The man glanced at her, wiped the moisture off her face with tissues, and then turned up the air conditioning.
Charlotte’s fingers and cheeks were chilly, carrying the biting chill of early spring. Robert held her hand, lowered his head, and carefully wiped the moisture from her skin with a dry tissue.
Charlotte sat on his lap, watching her fingers gently held by his long, cold white fingers. His movents were gentle as he wiped, like brushing off dust from jewelry, showing preciousness in every gesture.
Her heart stirred slightly as she slowly raised her head to look into Robert’s deep, ink-like eyes.
Throwing the damp tissue into the trash bin, the man raised his head, eting her gaze. After a mont, he parted his lips lightly and said to her, "Take off your clothes."
"Huh?"
Charlotte was stunned for a mont, all the warmth shattered by the man’s five words.
She unwillingly asked, "Take off what?"
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