She must have been blind back then to find Butler Goldsmith endearing.
She must have been truly sightless to think Butler Goldsmith was a good man.
BOO HOO HOO, my poor little strawberries.
Nia Mitchell sniffled and reached out to pick up the others. But Butler Goldsmith saw this and, with a rapid CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH, quickly stepped on all the strawberries on the ground...
Crushed!
"AH!!! My strawberries!"
Nia Mitchell roared, lunging to grab the remaining strawberries in Frederick Goldsmith’s hands.
"Young Madam, please don’t co any closer! I’m an old man; I can’t withstand your pushing!"
Damn it!
A threat. This was a blatant threat.
This is too much! How shaless!
Far away at MC Group, the CEO’s mouth twitched, his face etched with dark lines of exasperation. Listening to the ruckus on the phone, he was rather speechless.
"I say... Frederick Goldsmith!"
"Give back my little strawberries! You compensate ! If you weren’t going to let eat them, then just don’t let eat them! Why did you have to crush them?!"
Maxwell Peary: ...
"AHEM, Frederick Goldsmith?"
"You’re too much! My poor little strawberries—"
Over the phone, Nia Mitchell’s voice could still be faintly heard.
Maxwell Peary, completely speechless, hung up and called again.
Only then did Frederick Goldsmith rember the phone and quickly answered it.
"Young Master, quickly! The Young Madam is throwing a tantrum!"
Frederick Goldsmith was completely at a loss. He held the fruit platter high with one hand and the phone with the other, while a certain Rabina Mitchell clung to his legs, squatting on the ground. Anyone witnessing such a scene would be utterly flabbergasted.
"What’s wrong?"
Maxwell Peary was no stranger to Nia Mitchell’s tantrums, but he’d never imagined her love for strawberries ran this deep.
"The Young Madam... she... she’s clinging to my legs and won’t let leave!" Frederick Goldsmith paused, then stamred.
Upon hearing this, Maxwell Peary grew agitated.
How could Little Rabina hug another man so casually?
Even Frederick Goldsmith was not acceptable!
"Put her on the phone!"
"Yes, sir!"
Such an order was a pure relief to Frederick Goldsmith. In his heart, Young Master Peary was omnipotent; only Maxwell Peary could stop Nia Mitchell when she was like this.
Nia Mitchell pouted, not wanting to take the phone.
But...
She had to answer.
"Hello?"
Her voice was laced with grievance as she spoke, letting go of Frederick Goldsmith’s legs and sitting right down on the carpet.
"You’re on your special period; you can’t eat cold things. Don’t you know that yourself?"
Nia Mitchell pursed her lips. Duh! Of course, I know. That’s why I haven’t eaten a single one!
I shouldn’t have hesitated in the first place!
Nia Mitchell’s face was still etched with vexation.
"Nia Mitchell? Speak! Don’t be silent."
On the other end of the line, Maxwell Peary sounded displeased. He couldn’t see her expression over the phone, so he could only rely on her voice. If she didn’t even make a sound, he wouldn’t be able to gauge anything about her state.
Hearing Maxwell Peary’s voice, Nia Mitchell slowly got up from the carpet, walked over to the sofa, and sat down.
"I know," she replied, her voice incredibly ek and still tinged with grievance.
Maxwell Peary’s heart instantly softened. He sighed lightly.
"But I really, really want one. Can I just have one? Please?" Nia Mitchell asked cautiously, pricking up her ears to listen for his response.
"No!"
Maxwell Peary refused without a mont’s hesitation. It was non-negotiable.
Just as she expected! It was too unfair!
"Hmph! You’re awful! You don’t like at all! I just want to eat one tiny little strawberry, and you won’t even let do that!"
Nia Mitchell imdiately began to throw another tantrum.
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