"What are you talking about!" Sophie Nye shouted.
Mason Nightshade merely offered a cold smile as he sat down beside Aurelia Shaw. On the single-seater sofa, the slim and delicate Aurelia was sitting alone, the space felt vast, but with another person, it suddenly became crowded. Their legs were pressed against each other, arms touching, half of their bodies almost clinging together. Aurelia could distinctly feel the man’s warm body heat and tight, swelling muscles.
In an instant, her body tensed, and a wave of discomfort arose inside her.
Slender fingers silently clenched her knees, subtly shifting to the side in a barely noticeable manner.
With the two squeezed into such a tiny space, even her slightest movement was noticeable to Mason. He lowered his eyes to look at her smooth, fair, and tender long leg, inching towards the edge of the sofa. Although there wasn’t much space, she seemed intent on squeezing her entire body into the crack of the sofa.
Mason raised his gaze and suddenly froze; he noticed a flicker of disgust and coldness in the young woman’s eyes, something he’d never seen before. He stared blankly for a moment, and his long arm suddenly wrapped around her slender waist. He gave her a sidelong glance, curled his lips, and asked, "Madam, what do you think we should do about this?"
Aurelia hadn’t expected Mason to suddenly send the ball into her court, and after a momentary pause, a little thought made her understand his intention.
Mason was likely using her to reject Sophie’s arrangement, right?
One had to admit, this aligned perfectly with Mason’s meticulously calculating way of handling things. Even if Sophie were to hold a grudge in the future, she would only hold it against Aurelia, having nothing to do with him.
This tactic of using a borrowed knife to kill was truly well-played.
Thinking this, a gentle smile appeared on Aurelia’s face.
"Well... I think..." she mused, "Having one more person at home makes it lively. It’s not a bad thing. And I think Mom is right. With Isabel here to take care of you since my leg is injured, I’m quite relieved."
"Is that truly how you feel?" Mason raised an eyebrow, looking at her.
"Yes, of course!" Aurelia nodded.
Eleanor Spencer moving in didn’t harm her. With Eleanor’s sly ways, it was only a matter of time before she climbed into Mason’s bed, and then she could photograph them as evidence to use as a bargaining chip in the divorce.
That was just the worst-case plan. There was another reason—a vengeance from a past life she couldn’t let go. Rather than having no idea what schemes the enemy was plotting behind her back, it was better to keep her in sight. Besides, it would be more convenient to torment her this way.
If the little white mouse was rushing to her doom, why should she stop her? In boring times, it was just right to "play" with her properly.
A gleam of calculation flashed through her mind, and a sharp glint flickered in Aurelia’s eyes.
Mason glared at her, catching the cunning and cold glare at the bottom of her eyes, his gaze deepening, his rough fingers caressing her soft and slender waist, suddenly applying pressure.
Aurelia inhaled sharply, her body instantly tensing, her fingers turning white as they clenched her knees, every hair on her body seemingly standing on end from discomfort.
The man’s breath was like poison, brushing and lingering by her ear and neck, a wave of nausea rising in her stomach.
Her body went limp, supporting her forehead, her face pale as she said, "I’m feeling a bit dizzy, Mason. You handle this matter. As for which room my sister will stay in, you decide. I’ll go upstairs to rest for a while."
Aurelia stood up, but the hand on her waist didn’t let go.
Impatiently furrowing her brows, Aurelia directly instructed the servant sternly, "What are you standing around for? Get a room ready quickly and move everything needed in."
The servants received the order and began to act, but just as they moved, a clear and calm voice rang out: