Left with no choice, Thomas Shannon could only keep her by his side.
The manor was as secure as a fortress, heavily guarded; not even a mosquito could fly in easily. ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by novel(ꜰ)ire.net
Only when Sophie Sullivan was within the manor could Thomas truly feel at ease.
However, she was unwilling. Wary of Amelia Shaw, she insisted on following him.
Thomas’s temper was worn thin by her persistence. Thinking of her wild little displays, she was certainly full of spirit.
Thomas raised his hand to his forehead, a helpless, faint smile playing on his lips. He had truly spoiled her rotten!
After dinner, Sophie planned to go out for a walk to aid digestion.
The scenery within the mountain manor was delightful. There was a rich variety of trees and flowers, making it feel less like midsummer and more like spring in full bloom.
It made one feel completely immersed, as if in the midst of a warm spring where flowers bloomed in abundance; even the climate was exceptionally pleasant.
"Maniac, where are you going?"
The moment she stepped out of the courtyard, a man in black extended an arm to block her path.
The man in black, expressionless and all business, seemed to remind her that without a valid reason or the Young Master’s permission, she shouldn’t even think of stepping outside this door.
Sophie pursed her lips. "I just want to take a walk outside. I’ll be back soon."
"Did the Young Master allow it?"
Sophie rolled her eyes. "I’m just going for a walk right outside the door. Do I need Thomas Shannon’s permission for that?"
"Don’t forget, the Young Master stipulated that your activities are restricted to the villa grounds. So, please don’t make things difficult for us. Return inside."
Withdrawing her gaze, Sophie turned and walked back.
「Imperial City, the manor.」
Amelia Shaw was awakened by her mobile phone in her sleep.
She raised her hand and answered the telephone, "Hello?"
Frank Mitchell’s voice, carrying a familiar tenderness from days long past, drifted softly into her ears through the airwaves.
For a moment, Amelia’s mind grew hazy, as if she had returned to those sweet times they once shared.
Back then, he hadn’t gone bankrupt and had showered her with affection...
Cruel reality shattered her reverie, and she snapped back to her senses. Raising a hand, she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Frank Mitchell, are you insane? Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"Samuel, there’s something I need your help with."
"Frank Mitchell, what makes you possibly think I’ll help you?"
How many times had he duped her? Of all the things she’d asked him to do, had he ever succeeded in even one?
He’d tried to assassinate that maniac twice, and both attempts had ended in failure.
Now, that maniac was alive and well, still strutting about arrogantly before her. And soon, that hideous face of hers would be restored too.
Amelia practically hated Frank Mitchell to death!
If he hadn’t botched things so badly, that maniac wouldn’t even exist in this world anymore.
Nor would the maniac have had the chance to behave so arrogantly in her presence, provoking her again and again.
"Samuel, don’t forget, we are in the same boat. Don’t you want Thomas Shannon to pay the price?"
Amelia clenched her mobile phone, her thoughts in turmoil.
True, she now harbored feelings for Thomas Shannon—for the man himself, and even more for his power and his nation-rivalling wealth.
Yet, he had hurt her repeatedly, time and again allowing that maniac to humiliate and provoke her.
With each hurt piling upon the last, her heart was already riddled with wounds.
Amelia could be certain of it: she hated Thomas Shannon!
His love for her from two years ago had vanished. Even if there were no feelings between them now, he absolutely should not have, should never have, indulged that woman—that maniac—in humiliating and provoking her.