These words are an invisible tease to other won.
But Victoria Monroe breathed a sigh of relief, thankful it was only because of the benefactor relationship.
Perhaps in Rhys Hawthorne’s eyes, she was still that sister who forced him to eat garlic.
She blinked, "Can I really pinch?"
"Yes."
As a child, she often kneaded Rhys Hawthorne’s face, so soft, such a well-behaved child.
The boys in the alley were rowdy, none like Rhys Hawthorne.
Now she knows he holds imnse power, the third son of the Hawthorne Family.
His eyes were faint, his face showed no emotion, like a god indifferent to the world.
His allure is truly formidable.
Victoria gently pinched his cheeks; not much flesh, but the skin was very elastic.
Not much different from others.
Retracting her hand, she comnted, "Of all the trash I’ve picked up, you’re the only treasure I’ve found."
Along the way, they discussed many things post-separation, easing much of the awkwardness.
Victoria no longer felt so defensive towards him, feeling he was approachable.
In her eyes, he was still the restrained, courteous, and sensible younger brother.
The car stopped in the mall’s parking lot.
Victoria reminded, "Do you have sunglasses and a mask?"
Rhys Hawthorne replied, "No need for that."
The driver opened the car door for them, swiping the card for the VIP elevator.
They went unimpeded straight to the top floor.
This place is mbership-based, requiring millions to enroll.
People here are either rich or noble, making paparazzi encounters rare.
Even if soone recognizes them, due to their status, it’s impossible to secretly photograph or spread rumors.
Unless he no longer wishes to be part of this circle.
This top luxury area was sparsely populated at this hour, each store bright and pristine.
Victoria and Rhys Hawthorne entered a n’s clothing store, imdiately greeted by a professional assistant.
Without excessive scrutiny, they were politely served.
"What would you like to purchase? Need to introduce anything?"
Rhys Hawthorne politely declined, "No need."
The assistant stepped back, "Feel free to browse, if you need anything call , my na is Ada."
Rhys followed Victoria to the shirt section.
He didn’t speak, Victoria thought he felt awkward asking since she was compensating him.
Having helped her so many tis, she felt the need to splurge generously.
"Do you have any preferred styles? Don’t hold back for my sake."
Victoria bluntly expressed, considering she’s a petite rich woman with over five billion in savings.
Rhys Hawthorne shook his head, "Usually, my assistant prepares these for ."
"Shall I choose for you, then?"
"Yes."
Victoria excelled at this, over the years at ho, she loved sorting out clothes for Julian Fordham.
Thus, she quickly picked out so for Rhys Hawthorne.
When he stepped out, several buttons on his shirt were undone.
Victoria recalled the days he stayed at her house as a child, his dirty clothes, and how she forced him to wear her floral cotton jacket.
He was unfamiliar with button-up attire, dressing haphazardly.
Victoria slightly curved her lips, "How do you still not know how to button your shirt, like when you were a child?"
She seed to forget that whenever they t, he was always ticulous.
In her eyes, he was still the little brother from the past, just like when she was seven, fixing his clothes.
But this ti she had to bend down, and today, the tall man leaned down slightly, allowing the woman to raise her hands to button his shirt.
This scene was captured by soone on their phone and sent almost imdiately to Julian Fordham’s phone.
Julian Fordham was preparing lunch for his grandmother. Since Victoria Monroe left, he felt unsettled.
Even though he knew Victoria Monroe wouldn’t act recklessly before getting the divorce certificate, he felt their years of affection couldn’t be easily disrupted by Rhys Hawthorne.
Yet his heart was restless and uneasy, making him very uncomfortable.
His phone chid.
He peeled back to look imdiately; it was a photo sent by his friend Luke Shawcross.
Luke Shawcross: [What’s going on between you and your wife? Your company announced a third-rate artist as your wife, and Old ng made it even more interesting, directly putting grass on your head. Are you playing so green hat ga?]
The opened photo depicted Rhys Hawthorne wearing a white shirt, bending down slightly, while his wife buttoned it for him.
Rhys Hawthorne looked down at Victoria Monroe, the cold lines on his lips softened, even his fierce profile appeared gentle.
The two standing together resembled a divine couple, so perfectly matched it was deadly.
"Julian, is your company busy again?" His grandmother approached, prompting Julian Fordham to quickly shut off his phone.
"No, just a minor issue." He set the phone aside, picked up the knife, and resud cutting vegetables.
However, his skilled knife work led to cutting his finger, blood gushing forth.
Just as now, his heart felt like it was stabbed, unbearably aching, even breathing hurt.
His heart began to panic and fear, Victoria!
Could his wife have fallen for soone else?
Thinking of this, Julian Fordham felt like a mad beast, his eyes turned blood-red, jealousy driving him insane!
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