Nia Mitchell listened to Maxwell Peary’s words and obediently nodded her head.
But—I’ve already complained in my heart countless tis! Wait for you? Yeah, when hell freezes over! I’ve already decided that as soon as he leaves, I’m going to fall asleep, dead to the world and impossibly sound asleep.
"Good girl."
Maxwell leaned over to kiss her forehead, then turned around to leave.
SWOOSH. He opened the door and saw Yancy Hastings, hand raised, ready to knock again.
Seeing Maxwell, who had already opened the door, Yancy Hastings faltered. He looked awkwardly at his own raised hand, holding it there for a long mont before finally withdrawing it.
"So, you’re out."
He coughed awkwardly, then managed a dry remark and stood still, unsure of his next move.
"Study."
Maxwell instantly shed the warmth that had enveloped him just a mont before, reverting to his usual cold and aloof self. His whole body radiated an icy, intimidating aura. He didn’t even glance at Yancy Hastings. After spitting out that one word, he slamd the door shut behind him and strode off.
Yancy Hastings raised his eyebrows. Oho, is he angry?
With that thought, he headed towards the study, stretching his limbs as he went. Judging by Maxwell’s earlier stance, a fight seed imminent. I’d better warm up in advance, lest I be caught unprepared.
「In the study—」
The room was quiet. Maxwell Peary sat on a sofa on one side, his legs crossed, a smirk playing on his lips.
"So, you want to marry my sister now?"
Yancy Hastings casually took a seat opposite him, his back straight.
"I brought the betrothal gifts. If you need anything, let know. I’ll get it for you tomorrow."
Maxwell Peary threw him a glance but remained silent. He poured himself a glass of red wine and took a sip, his face etched with disdain, clearly telling Yancy Hastings he needed nothing.
Yancy Hastings frowned. Marrying Maxwell Peary’s sister is probably the most troubleso thing in the world.
"We’ve been buddies for so many years, just tell . What will it take for you to let Evelyn marry ?"
"Not marrying."
Maxwell Peary swirled the red wine in his glass, scrutinizing it without a single glance at Yancy Hastings.
Two simple words, an abrupt rejection with clearly no room for negotiation.
HSS—
Yancy Hastings turned to look at Maxwell Peary. Every ti he saw him acting like this, he felt incredibly uncomfortable.
"Reason."
What the hell? Just because he’s married now, does that an others can’t have wives?
Maxwell Peary turned to look at Yancy Hastings, seeing that he genuinely wanted to know.
"Figure it out yourself."
He tossed out the phrase unenthusiastically, leaving poor Yancy Hastings confused for a long ti.
It wasn’t until he had a wife himself that he understood why Maxwell Peary had been so upset back then.
Of course, that’s a story for later.
"Boring. Either way, you’re not allowed to object."
After saying this, Yancy Hastings glanced at the ti and stood up.
He genuinely had sothing to attend to: a military training exercise shortly after midnight.
Given his rank, he didn’t actually need to be there.
But as the brigade commander, and soone permanently stationed with the troops, he had never missed any of these drills, large or small, nor any confrontations.
It seed to have beco a habit, and he didn’t plan on missing this ti either.
Moreover, this drill was quite important; he could use it as an opportunity to scout for promising new talent and recruit them directly.
"I’m heading back. Don’t look for for the next five days."
TSK. You wouldn’t find even if you tried.
Then again, in the past, I often went a year or more without contacting him. Why has Maxwell been reaching out so frequently lately? Nia Mitchell!
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