Rhys Hawthorne, a serious man, suddenly acted like this, shattering his image of being aloof and untouchable bit by bit.
Speaking of which, that night he had tasted every inch of her body, while Victoria Monroe was too busy calling out, never getting a touch of his skin.
At this mont, the skin she pressed her palm against was not only elastic but also distinctly defined, like a little furnace that gradually turned Victoria Monroe’s small face red.
When her fingers ward a little, she quickly withdrew her hand.
"Much warr now."
Victoria Monroe turned her eyes away, not daring to et his gaze.
Rhys Hawthorne noticed her unease and a faint smile appeared on his lips.
If she’s shy just from this, how embarrassed will she be when it cos to the real thing?
Although Victoria Monroe had been married, she was inherently pure and clean, still holding on to traditional values.
Compared to the restless society today, where many n and won seek one-night stands for pleasure, she had only Julian Fordham from start to finish.
Even after the divorce, she did not intentionally remain chaste for Julian Fordham, but she couldn’t truly let go so quickly.
The night she was willing to undress was more about a point of no return, cutting off the possibility of getting back together with Julian Fordham.
How much of herself does her heart still contain? Rhys Hawthorne didn’t know.
But he knew love was like water in a bottle, and Julian Fordham’s actions had made Victoria Monroe pour it out little by little until it turned into an empty bottle.
And his care for Victoria Monroe was like filling this empty bottle with water, drop by drop, until the bottle was full, and only then would it completely belong to him.
He couldn’t rush, and with Victoria Monroe willing to open the bottle’s mouth for him, he’d already won more than half.
*
The closer they got to Kenton, the lower Victoria Monroe’s spirits beca.
The days spent with Rhys Hawthorne felt like a dream, a beautiful dream that allowed her to montarily forget her pain.
Now that the dream was shattered, she should wake up.
She had to accept that her grandmother was gone.
As the yacht docked, a heavy snow fell in Kenton.
Victoria Monroe, dressed in a thick down coat, clutched a jar containing her grandmother’s ashes tightly in her hands, while Rhys Hawthorne held a black umbrella, shielding her from all the wind and snow.
There were few people in this city who knew her and her grandmother, mostly old neighbors from the slums.
Over the years, they had long lost contact, and many of the elderly there had passed away at sixty or seventy.
She had also made so friends in the entertainnt circle back then, but hadn’t kept in touch over the years.
No funeral, no relatives or friends, she had to send her grandmother up the mountain all alone.
She knew that the mont she reached Kenton, she was on Julian Fordham’s turf, and he would definitely co on the day her grandmother was buried.
Originally planning to return two days early, Victoria Monroe, wanting to avoid him at all costs, intentionally stayed at sea for two more days.
After disembarking, she headed straight for the cetery Rhys Hawthorne had previously selected, giving Julian Fordham no ti to react.
Everything was fine on the yacht, but once she returned to this city, the overwhelming mories and grief flooded back.
The best grandmother in the world was gone just like that.
She still rembered her grandmother telling her with a smile before they set out that she wanted to see fireflies and go out to sea, playfully like a child who still enjoyed gas.
They had left together, but now returned as one person and a pot of ashes.
Victoria Monroe’s tears fell one by one onto the lid, her expression a picture of desolation.
Rhys Hawthorne put the umbrella away and handed it to Assistant Woods, opened the car door for her, and placed his hand gentlemanly at the edge of the door to prevent her from hitting her head.
The car door closed, and the Maybach headed directly to the cetery.
The images of Victoria Monroe and Rhys Hawthorne were captured by the informants who had been stationed at the port for many days.
Julian Fordham was tornted every day, never expecting Victoria Monroe to spend more than ten days at sea with Rhys Hawthorne.
He had been haunted by nightmares day and night, finally waiting for Victoria Monroe to co ho.
In the photos, both Victoria Monroe and Rhys Hawthorne were dressed in black, Victoria wrapped in a thick down coat, holding a jar wrapped in black cloth in her arms.
Rhys wore a long black coat, standing beside Victoria Monroe, holding a black umbrella.
Even through the screen, the harmony between them when holding the umbrella or opening the car door could be felt.
In the past, Julian Fordham could sense Victoria Monroe’s boundaries and distance with Rhys Hawthorne, but not in this video.
The relationship between the two had changed.
Over nearly half a month, while his own wounds had scabbed, what had happened between Victoria Monroe and Rhys Hawthorne?
Julian Fordham felt extrely pained and asked Corbin Prescott, "Where did Victoria go?"
Did she go back to that penthouse, or...
He didn’t even dare think about the possibility.
Corbin Prescott replied, "Miss Monroe went to Sunstone Cetery. Rhys Hawthorne recently arranged for soone to purchase a plot of good feng shui land. It seems she is there to bury the old lady."
"She acted so quickly."
Julian Fordham’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile, "She’s guarding against ."
Not wanting him to know when her grandmother would be buried, she had taken him by surprise, returning straight to the cetery, and was likely already starting the burial process by now.
"Boss, are you going over?"
"I’ll go. After all, her grandmother cared for . I didn’t think she’d leave this way. It’s a debt I owe her, so in every sense, I should see her off."
He knew Victoria Monroe wouldn’t want to see him, and he had already prepared to pay his respects after Victoria Monroe and Rhys Hawthorne had left.
Victoria Monroe carried the urn up the mountain, where the tombstone awaited, though it lacked a photograph of her grandmother.
Before she passed, her grandmother had specially requested a portrait, which was with that photographer.
To get the photo ant she would have to negotiate with Julian Fordham.
Forget about eting him; even hearing those three words now made Victoria Monroe furious.
Even without the photo, she wouldn’t go to him.
She didn’t want to be involved with him in any way, shape, or form.
The urn was placed in the prepared plot, and Victoria Monroe knelt, crying uncontrollably.
"Grandmother, your granddaughter is unfilial, making you walk this path for my sake. In the next life, you must find a good family, no more suffering."
Victoria Monroe touched her slightly swollen belly beneath her down coat, "Grandmother, I’m actually with child. I’m not alone, so don’t worry about ..."
Rhys Hawthorne also knelt beside Victoria Monroe, bowing three tis to her grandmother before taking her hand and saying, "Grandmother, I will marry Victoria. From now on, I will take good care of her and the child. Please rest in peace."
When he spoke those words about marriage, Victoria Monroe felt as if this wasn’t a fake marriage, but he truly intended to marry her.
Rhys Hawthorne helped her up, "You’re pregnant, you shouldn’t be kneeling for so long."
"Okay," Victoria Monroe replied with a thick nasal tone.
The wind and snow swept in from all directions; the mountain air distinctly cooler, and even though she wore a down coat, Rhys Hawthorne was still worried she’d catch cold.
"Let’s go back first; the staff will handle the rest."
"No, I want to spend more ti with Grandmother. You can wait in the car."
Rhys Hawthorne sighed, eyes filled with helpless affection, "I knew you’d say that."
He pulled out a prepared hat and scarf and wrapped them snugly around Victoria Monroe.
It wasn’t about appearances, just warmth.
Victoria Monroe rambled by the tombstone for a long while, surrounded by bodyguards standing in a row, with their black umbrellas facing into the wind and snow, creating a wall of flesh to shield her.
Throughout, Rhys Hawthorne held the black umbrella for her, blocking the falling white snow from the sky.
The scene was incredibly moving.
True love is never about forcing soone to do sothing under the guise of love; it’s about cherishing them, indulging them, letting them soar freely.
After all, this is a cetery, and being pregnant, she couldn’t co every day.
The love and nurturing her grandmother gave her made her want to spend more ti with her grandmother – it was such a small gesture.
Victoria Monroe realized the wind had lessened significantly; only when she realized it was blocked by nearby bodyguards did she feel uneasy.
"Sorry, I..." she began to explain.
Rhys Hawthorne had long seen through her intentions, pulling her into his embrace, gently stroking her head.
"No need to apologize, you are my wife; this is how it should be."
Victoria Monroe felt sothing off about his words; wasn’t theirs a fake marriage?
The warmth of his embrace made her forget to ask.
He reached out to wipe away the tears at her eyes, their gaze eting, and Victoria Monroe saw the tenderness in his eyes.
As if she were a fragile treasure, he was careful, afraid she’d break with any exertion.
Just then, Victoria Monroe heard a raspy yet familiar voice, "Victoria..."
Her body stiffened, chanically turning around to see Julian Fordham standing in the wind and snow.
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