After Annabelle Linton and Leona Grant’s divorce, Annabelle had only packed her things from their villa. She had rely given the servants instructions about her belongings at the old manor, never packing them herself.
So her clothes were still here.
Leona Grant quickly found one of her dresses and returned. But thinking she was likely changing her dressing, he didn’t go in, waiting by the door instead.
The wound had torn open, but it wasn’t too serious. It had just bled a bit.
Annabelle Linton grabbed the first-aid kit, bandaged herself up simply, and thought about what had just happened.
’Who on earth wants to harm ?’
’The goal was clearly to ruin . Who would stoop to such a vicious, dirty trick?’
Annabelle Linton’s first thought was Vivian Yates.
Besides her, she couldn’t think of anyone else who would harm her like this for no reason.
BUZZ—
Just as she was thinking, the phone in her bag vibrated. Annabelle Linton took it out and saw it was a call from Aaron Wyatt.
A faint smile touched her lips when she saw his na on the screen.
"Annabelle." The mont she answered, Aaron Wyatt’s gentle voice ca through the line.
Hearing his voice, Annabelle’s frayed nerves began to settle, and a warmth spread through her chest.
She leaned back gently against the sofa and said with a small smile, "Where have you been? I called you so many tis today, but you didn’t answer."
"I’m sorry. I had a last-minute business trip, and my phone died. I didn’t get a chance to call back," Aaron Wyatt said, his gentle voice full of apology.
"A business trip? Where to? You’re back already?" Annabelle asked, a little confused.
Aaron Wyatt loved it when she asked him questions.
Annabelle Linton wasn’t very talkative, but the questions she did ask were always about him. It made him feel like she really cared.
He chuckled. His voice was gentle, yet held a hint of playful complaint. "Corinthia. I left at five this afternoon and just rushed back, but I didn’t see you..."
"I’m at the Old Master’s seventieth birthday banquet," Annabelle explained.
Aaron Wyatt fell silent for a mont. "His grandfather?" he asked.
The "he," of course, referred to Leona Grant.
"Mhm."
At the ntion of Leona Grant, the mood grew heavy.
For a mont, neither of them spoke.
But, by so tacit understanding, neither hung up.
After a short while, Aaron Wyatt broke the silence with a light laugh, changing the subject. "So, when will you be back? Do you need to co pick you up?"
"No, it’s fine. You just got back from your trip, you should rest. I’ll be ho in a little while." Not wanting to tire him out, she added with concern, "Have you eaten yet?"
Aaron Wyatt sighed dramatically from his bed. "I can’t eat when you’re not here..." he said, sounding pitiful.
Hearing him draw out the last word, she couldn’t help but laugh. "Be good. There should be sothing in the fridge. Go eat a little sothing, or you’ll upset your stomach."
"Nope. I’m not eating unless you promise to make it up to by cooking for tomorrow!"
Annabelle laughed softly, her voice a mix of sweet exasperation. "Alright, I promise. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow."
It was clearly a promise to make it up to him with a ho-cooked al, but to another person’s ears, it took on a very different aning.
’Make it up to him?’
’How will she make it up to him?’
’With what?’
Leaning against the door and listening in, Leona Grant’s face instantly darkened at her words. He was about to kick the door in, but the next sentence he overheard stunned him into silence—
Aaron Wyatt chuckled again and said to Annabelle, "Annabelle, I saw sothing online today. It said that anyone who can answer this correctly in one second is a genius. Want to see if you’re a genius?"
Annabelle raised an eyebrow. "What’s the question?"
"Okay, listen. Once upon a ti, there was a little white rabbit nad ’Honey, I love you,’ and another little white rabbit nad ’Honey, I don’t love you.’ One day, ’Honey, I don’t love you’ died. So, what was the na of the rabbit that was left?"
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