Remarriage Failed Again Today Chapter 180: Was It That Obvious?

Leona Grant finished the bowl of porridge, lost in his own fantasy.

Though it was completely tasteless, it was more delicious than any delicacy he had ever eaten.

Leona Grant licked his lips. Sohow, he managed to imbue the simple act with a bewitching, regal charm.

The light from the brilliant crystal chandelier illuminated his devastatingly handso face, a sight that was both stunning and breathtaking.

Annabelle Linton watched the man before her, her expression cold and detached.

The heart that had once fluttered wildly at the re sight of him now felt not the slightest ripple.

’This was the face she had loved her entire life. Even if only as a mory, it should have been preserved forever.’

’And yet, when she looked at him now, there was nothing left but hate.’

’Yes, hate.’

’It was a loathing so deep it had settled in her bones, but not the kind that would drive her to seek revenge or take any action.’

’A hatred for soone who could never be forgiven, yet wasn’t even worth the ti it would take to get even.’

’When a murderer takes a life, they face a life sentence or execution. In a way, that atones for their cri.’

’But Leona Grant wouldn’t get that chance.’

’In her heart, even if Leona Grant were to die repenting right in front of her, her hatred wouldn’t diminish in the slightest.’

The corners of Leona Grant’s lips curved into a smug, self-satisfied smile. "Won always say one thing and an another. You act all high and mighty, pretending you don’t care. Annabelle Linton, really?"

Annabelle Linton pressed her lips together and shot him an indifferent glance. She had nothing more to say.

Annabelle Linton sat down at her computer and began typing furiously, focusing on her work. She didn’t want to look at him.

Leona Grant was still reveling in the fact that Annabelle Linton had cooked for him, his voice laced with smug satisfaction. "So, Annabelle Linton, is this your way of making a peace offering?"

"..."

"You don’t have to use silence to hide how much you care about . It’s nothing to be ashad of, it’s perfectly normal. I understand. I won’t make fun of you."

"..."

"Damn it, woman. I’ve said all this, the least you could do is acknowledge ."

"..."

"Annabelle Linton..."

"Enough!" Annabelle Linton snapped her laptop shut. Her icy eyes were filled with disgust and impatience. "Can you just shut up? Are you ever going to stop?"

In Leona Grant’s eyes, Annabelle Linton’s disgust was just her lashing out in embarrassnt after being exposed.

A smirk played on his lips. "Not unless you admit it."

"What on earth do you want to admit?!"

"Admit that you’re concerned about . Admit that you care."

Annabelle Linton was so exasperated she had to laugh. "Where did you get the idea that I’m concerned about you or that I care? Are you delusional?"

"If you weren’t concerned, would you have cooked for yourself? If you didn’t care, would you have rembered I’m allergic to sothing in pasta and made porridge instead? Tsk, tsk. You’re really sothing else."

"..." Annabelle Linton’s brow twitched. She was utterly speechless.

She was about to retort with a sarcastic remark when a sly idea suddenly struck her. Feigning chagrin, Annabelle Linton asked, "Was I that obvious? You saw right through it?"

Leona Grant’s grin widened. "Haha! I knew it. You say one thing but an another. You’re never honest with yourself. And you still had the nerve to deny it? Trying to fool ?"

"..." ’This guy is delusional,’ she thought, ’unbelievable.’

"I just wanted you to get better soon. After all, this is my fault, so I made you so porridge. I even simred it over a low fire for two and a half hours. Did you taste that authentic, smoky, firewood aroma?"

’Simr my ass,’ she scoffed internally. ’I bought it for five bucks from a stall outside the hospital.’

’Hmm... I didn’t really notice.’

Leona Grant paused as if to think, then replied with great seriousness, "Now that you ntion it, I think I did."