"What happened?"
Maxwell Peary slumped tiredly onto the sofa. The doors and windows were tightly shut, yet a heavy scent still seed to linger in the air.
"Uncle, when will you be back?"
After much thought, Nia Mitchell decided to venture a different question.
Maxwell Peary was taken aback, a burst of joy exploding in his heart. Was this Rabina Mitchell missing him?
Hmm... He missed her too.
"Missing ?"
With a habitual quirk of his lips, he lounged on the sofa, a glint of amusent in his eyes.
Nia Mitchell’s face flushed crimson. Surely not.
"No, I was just asking casually."
She contradicted him obstinately, her deanor very serious.
"Does Uncle’s work also involve going as far as Provence?"
Despite her hesitation, she still asked the question in a roundabout way.
"I ca here for so personal matters."
Maxwell Peary didn’t explain much further.
His distinct voice echoed in her ears. The expression on Nia Mitchell’s face vanished in an instant, her face turning sowhat pale.
Clenching her fists, she bit her pale lips while sitting in the car and gazing at the scenery speeding by.
"Oh."
Nia Mitchell gave a lukewarm reply. Since Maxwell Peary couldn’t see her expression, he didn’t notice anything peculiar.
"That’s it. I’ll hang up now; I’m still busy."
With those words, the line went dead.
Nia Mitchell hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye. Sitting alone in the back seat, she slowly lowered her head.
"Miss Mitchell, we’ve arrived."
After what seed like a long ti, the car gradually stopped. The driver, noticing Nia Mitchell sitting motionless and thinking she had fallen asleep, reminded her.
Nia Mitchell snapped back to reality and raised her head.
"Thank you."
After getting out of the car, she slowly headed towards the villa. After opening the villa’s grand gate, she casually kicked off her shoes.
"Young Mistress, you’ve returned?"
The butler, Frederick Goldsmith, imdiately ca to greet her, noting her exceptional fatigue.
"Has the Young Mistress had dinner?"
"I’ve eaten."
"Alright, then the Young Mistress should rest early. Oh, right, Master Hampton sent over a suitcase earlier. He said it was your belongings. I’ve placed it in the cloakroom of the master bedroom upstairs."
Nia Mitchell paused. Then she rembered: on Saturday, she had gone to Hendry Hampton’s Royal View Villa to collect her luggage, but it was no longer there.
Uncle Peary had imdiately made a call to handle this matter. She hadn’t expected it to be delivered today.
"I understand."
Nia Mitchell tossed her handbag onto the sofa and then, barefoot, headed upstairs.
The weather was getting hotter, so walking barefoot on the floor didn’t feel cold.
Reaching the second floor, Nia Mitchell didn’t go to the cloakroom to organize her belongings. Instead, she collapsed onto the large bed. Feeling utterly worn out, she soon fell into a deep, muddled sleep.
「Four in the morning.」
Maxwell Peary rubbed his temples as he opened the villa’s grand gate. He crossed through the pitch-dark, silent living room and went directly upstairs.
He had only been gone a day, yet he missed the little one so much. He found it sowhat incredible himself.
After dealing with matters there overnight, he had taken his private jet back.
He quietly opened the bedroom door. The dim bedside lamp was on. But when he saw Nia Mitchell sprawled directly on the large bed, still in her work clothes and not even covered with a blanket, all expression vanished from his face.
He frowned in displeasure. It wasn’t midsumr yet; there was still a chill in the night air. How could she sleep like this? What if she got sick?
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