Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation
Quiana Sutton’s forehead veins throbbed slightly. Earlier, Charles Foote had probably heard everything she and Julian Haworth talked about. Why was this man always so elusive?
However, she didn’t have the energy to bother with him and walked past him directly into the elevator that had just opened.
As the elevator doors closed, she vaguely heard Julian Haworth’s infuriated voice before Charles Foote’s face was completely obscured: "Why didn’t you stop her? I haven’t finished speaking yet..."
Only when the subtle clicks of the descending elevator reached him did Charles Foote retract his gaze, turning to Julian Haworth with a faintly annoyed tone: "You shouldn’t always look to pick a fight with her every ti you see her. It’s best if us outsiders don’t interfere too much in matters concerning the couple."
Julian Haworth sneered: "All they have between them is a marriage certificate. Is there any love or other affection?"
Charles Foote was silent for a mont, an unexpected touch of world-weariness and solitude apparent on his handso face: "How do you know there’s no affection between them? How do you know Durrell doesn’t like her?"
"Sotis liking soone doesn’t need to be verbally expressed."
"Oh, sure," Julian Haworth retorted, "as if you’re so kind of love guru. Aren’t you just as single as I am?"
Charles Foote’s expression shifted slightly, but in the end, he simply shook his head without saying anything.
When Quiana Sutton returned to the seventh floor, Isabelle Sorville had already co out of the consultation room, her expression extrely aggrieved upon seeing her.
"Cece, where did you just go? How co you haven’t returned for so long?"
Though she had accompanied Joy here, she didn’t go with her to the doctor, which ant she had let her down.
"Sorry, sothing ca up and delayed ."
Isabelle Sorville wasn’t truly looking to bla her, "Alright then, you’ll be punished by fetching my dicine later."
Quiana Sutton smiled indulgently: "Sure, I’ll do anything for you."
"That’s more like it."
-
Charles Foote stood by the window, watching Quiana Sutton and Isabelle Sorville’s departing figures. Nearby, Julian Haworth was smoking, and the scent drifted to his nose, causing him to frown slightly.
"Smoking is prohibited in the hospital."
Julian Haworth’s face maintained its usual devil-may-care attitude: "It’s my family’s hospital, so the rules are up to ."
Charles Foote pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation, uninterested in staying any longer, grabbed his coat from a side chair, and left the office.
He headed to Imperial View Manor.
To be honest, every ti he ca to Imperial View Manor, he felt a certain sentintality.
Zeke Landon had invested heavily in inviting the century’s most brilliant designer, Samuel Linnel, to design Imperial View Manor. It’s not just a manor but a piece of art.
No matter from what angle or perspective, it is stunningly magnificent.
The servants inford him that Durrell Landon was currently in the study; Charles Foote nodded faintly, signaling he understood, and proceeded to the study door.
He tapped lightly on the door but received no response, hesitated for a mont, and then opened the door to walk inside.
At a glance, he saw a stream of sunlight filtering through the windows, casting a perfect light on his face, outlining exquisite, peerless features.
He couldn’t help but recall Quiana Sutton’s words: "How can you say I’m not interested in him for his looks?" and chuckled softly.
This face was indeed enough to make soone rush toward it like a moth to a fla.
Realizing soone had entered the study, Durrell Landon looked up briefly at the visitor, said nothing, and then lowered his gaze, but those dark, cold eyes seed to hold secrets begging to be unraveled.
"Is sothing the matter?"
Charles Foote spoke lightly: "Just wanted to see how you’re doing."
Durrell Landon didn’t lift his head, his handso, jade-like face remaining indifferent and cool: "With Oliver around, I won’t die."
There was no joy or sorrow in those words, not a hint of emotion, exuding an unsettling feeling.
Charles Foote knew well that in terms of capability, Durrell Landon was not inferior to Zeke Landon. It was rely to avoid suspicion that he chose to delve into the entertainnt industry instead.
After all, Zeke Landon was his half-brother. If Durrell also joined Universal Corporation, the Landon Family would likely be torn apart by a bloody power struggle, which Durrell did not want to see.
He stepped forward a few steps, observing that Durrell Landon was working on a piece of unfinished calligraphy on his desk, the strokes robust and vigorous, surpassing even the masters of the art.
Even though it wasn’t complete, the outlines of the two characters were clear—Quiana Sutton.
Curiously, he asked:
"Durrell, have you rembered her?"
"No, I just did a simple investigation and found out she is indeed my wife."
After a mont’s hesitation, Charles Foote spoke:
"Do you want to recover this part of your mory?"
Durrell Landon said nothing, leaving it unclear whether he wanted to recover or not.
Charles Foote couldn’t fathom Durrell Landon’s intentions but, recalling the promise he made to Quiana Sutton, continued: "Oliver said that if soone familiar is around, it might trigger a mory. If you want to recall your mories, why not bring her to Imperial View Manor? Spending ti together might make sothing co to mind?"
After hearing this, Durrell Landon pursed his lips into a subtle smile. For a mont, there seed to be a drifting fragrance filling the entire room before his voice, cold as ever, broke it:
"What qualifications does she have to stay at Imperial View Manor?"
"Whether she has the qualifications is naturally up to you to decide."
Durrell Landon gave no reply, rely picked up his brush to complete the outline of Quiana Sutton’s na on the rice paper.
Then, he stood and left the study...
Charles Foote saw the completed characters on the rice paper and raised an eyebrow, his heart filled with understanding.
-
The two of them returned ho, and Isabelle Sorville clung to Quiana Sutton, asking her to stay a few more days. Unable to refuse, Quiana agreed but insisted on going back to her apartnt to grab so personal items first.
When she got to her apartnt, Quiana Sutton adeptly punched in the code, and once she opened the door, the already cramped space felt suddenly oppressive.
She looked up to see Durrell Landon sitting on the sofa, along with an unknown man standing beside him.
The man wore gold-rimd glasses, with a subtle smile on his lips, exuding a spring-like warmth, looking completely harmless.
This was Oliver Gale’s first ti eting Quiana Sutton. Passionate about dicine, he had gone abroad to study early and knew nothing about Durrell Landon’s secret marriage. If Julian Haworth hadn’t let it slip yesterday, he’d still be in the dark.
Seeing Quiana Sutton now left him incredibly surprised; it was his first ti seeing soone whose beauty and charisma were not overshadowed by Durrell Landon.
This woman was extraordinary.
That was his first impression.
Quiana Sutton withdrew her gaze from surveying them and sat down brazenly in front of Durrell Landon. Since they were going to divorce, she didn’t care about appearances anymore; she started:
"What do you want from ?"
Durrell Landon furrowed his brows slightly, seemingly dissatisfied with her deanor, though his voice didn’t waver,
"I don’t like doing anything unclear or ambiguous."
She raised an eyebrow: "So?"
"So, until I fully recover my mory, there’s no way I’ll sign the divorce papers."
She gave a cold laugh: "And if you never recover your mory, are we supposed to keep up this empty marriage forever?"
Durrell Landon replied calmly: "I don’t mind!"
Quiana Sutton was almost driven to the brink of a breakdown; she minded, very much so. She definitely didn’t want to spend her life in a hollow marriage.
She rejected him decisively: "No way."
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