Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation
Quiana Sutton felt like she was the center of attention, with more and more people gathering around her. Realizing that her identity had likely been recognized, she turned around without hesitation and left, returning to the car.
Durrell Landon finished collecting the painting and exchanged a few pleasantries with Professor Ye without lingering longer, then left his office.
As he walked down the street, he overheard the whispers of many students.
"Was that girl leaning on the stone bridge really Quiana Sutton?"
"It didn’t look fake to ."
"What do you think she ca to our school for?"
"Probably just a tour, what else? She debuted at eighteen, so she definitely didn’t go to college."
"But with her looks, does college even matter? Honestly, if she wanted to marry , I’d be willing to lose everything."
"Keep dreaming! A celebrity like her would either be kept or marry into a rich family. You don’t stand a chance."
"A person needs dreams, or else they’re no different from a salted fish."
"..."
...
Durrell Landon listened to their discussions, his dark pupils like thick, unmoving ink, cold and imposing.
She certainly has a knack for causing a stir, just by strolling around Ardane University a few tis.
Want to marry Quiana Sutton? What a pipe dream. Quiana is his wife, and as long as they don’t divorce, no one else will ever stand a chance.
Durrell Landon’s face was ashen as he returned to the car, seeing Quiana still turned away, ignoring him. Without thinking, he pulled her into his arms, his ice-cold, broad hands fumbling over her face, a tone of unspoken anger:
"Didn’t I tell you to stay put in the car? Why did you get out?"
If it were any other day, she might have argued with him out of habit, but today she didn’t want to argue. Her tone was very soft:
"The car was too boring, so I got out for a walk."
"Besides, if you didn’t want to appear at Ardane University, why did you insist on bringing along?"
Durrell suddenly felt a hint of defeat. He knew she had always been so cold and distant toward him, and in the past, he maintained a detached amusent about it. However, he wasn’t sure when he started to feel a ripple of emotion, and just monts ago, there was an unspeakable fear.
While Durrell was distracted, Quiana slipped from his arms. She had only one purpose today.
"The painting."
As his arms emptied, Durrell felt a sudden emptiness inside. He sensed this wasn’t a good sign—that his focus on her was exceeding appropriate boundaries.
He closed his eyes. He was a man without direction, and since Quiana Sutton felt no affection for him at all, why cling on?
When he opened his eyes again, the vacillation disappeared, replaced by an indifferent coldness, isolated from the world.
His right hand lazily propped up his chin, his eyes glinting with indifference:
"Do you really like this painting?"
Quiana nodded. This painting held special significance for her.
Durrell didn’t give her the painting but instead slowly put it away.
"I’ll give it to you when I’m in a good mood."
Quiana: "???"
Her gaze cooled slightly: "The invincible Mr. Landon would actually go back on his word?"
Durrell’s indifferent eyes showed a trace of amusent:
"I never keep my word."
"But if you’re willing to call ’husband,’ I might be willing to give you the painting."
Obviously, she was unwilling.
Durrell had already anticipated this result, his gaze only darkening slightly, saying no more.
Neither spoke further, and the car was enveloped in silence.
The driver felt every hair on his body standing on end, carefully ensuring nothing went wrong along the way.
On the way back to Imperial View Manor, they passed the apartnt where she once lived with Durrell, and she spoke up: "Stop the car."
"I’ll stay at the apartnt for now, not at Imperial View Manor."
Durrell made no objection: "Suit yourself."
...
Returning to the apartnt, she saw the clothes, jewelry, and bags in the wardrobe still untouched, further agitating her mood.
After a whole afternoon of sorting, she finally tossed everything into the trash bin.
Looking at the empty closet and room, she felt an indescribable relief, as if discarding those things could also discard thoughts she shouldn’t have.
The clothes, bags, and jewelry were bought according to Evelyn Windsor’s preferences, but the wine in the cabinet was to her tastes, courtesy of Durrell.
She went to the wine cabinet, took out a bottle of red wine, and poured herself a full glass.
In the dim light, the red liquid reflected in her pupils, like flas about to burn out.
Just then, her phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, a wave of impatience crossed her eyes.
As usual, she hung up imdiately, but the caller was unusually persistent this ti, dialing several more tis as if determined to confront her in person if she didn’t answer.
Not wanting to get too entangled with the other party, she pressed the answer button and spoke coldly: "What is it?"
The caller seed accustod to her coldness, showing no displeasure, only responding softly:
"Did you know The Raven investigated you?"
The Raven investigated her?
Quiana was montarily dazed but soon adopted a nonchalant attitude:
"You built my profile yourself. If The Raven had really found sothing, would you be in the mood to call ?"
The caller let out a long sigh: "Cece, why do you always speak to with such sharpness? You should be clearer than anyone that I’m the only person in this world who would never harm you."
"Shut up!"
Quiana didn’t want to hear his nonsense, "Save your concern for Charlotte Sutton; I don’t need it."
The caller was silent for a mont and finally said:
"I’ll co to see you in a while."
Before the words were fully spoken, she’d already hung up.
Why was everyone pressuring her? She rubbed her temples in frustration, downing the rest of the red wine in one gulp.
Unbeknownst to her, a rift had begun to form in her heart, with darkness seeping through.
Nathan Firth ntioned The Raven investigated her?
She smirked, knowing those who dared to pry would have to pay the price.
She found her computer and began an attempt to hack into Raven Headquarters.
Currently.
Raven Headquarters.
In the main control room, the person in charge grew tense seeing "An intruder detected" displayed on the monitor, hurriedly mobilizing a counterattack.
The skirmish ended narrowly in their favor, nearly resulting in data being copied; he quickly reported the matter to Charles Foote.
"Sir Knight, soone just breached Headquarters’ computer."
Charles Foote, who was restoring surveillance videos, frowned: "Were you able to pinpoint the attacker’s location?"
"The intruder was very sharp; we only traced them to the Capital City."
Durrell Landon’s car accident wasn’t an accident. Now, soone can invade Raven Headquarters’ computer—this Capital City is on the brink of unrest.
He called Durrell Landon, informing him of the incident.
Durrell Landon responded with a faint "Hmm," signaling his acknowledgnt.
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