"Leah, this topic is far too sensitive. You are already the reigning queen of dia buzz. Even a minor issue can beco a hot topic, with shares and comnts easily surpassing the million mark. If this matter breaks, your rivals in the entertainnt circle, envious of your fa, will surely seize the opportunity to take you down. The entertainnt industry is a place where the strong prey on the weak."
"Society’s tolerance for won is very low, and coupled with your background, getting entangled with the Xavier family father and son has set off a monuntal scandal. This topic will spread like wildfire to every corner, and in an instant, your image will plumt to the bottom."
"Leah, from now on, it will be hard for you to recover."
Leah Thorne felt icy cold in her hands and feet. She still couldn’t rember how she managed to walk away from the crowd. Today was the wedding of Justin Xavier and Cecilia Pence, with distinguished guests gathered, reporters swarming, and the sound of caras clicking everywhere.
Leah had been in the entertainnt industry for several years. Even under the dazzling spotlight of nurous dia outlets, she never felt nervous or stage-frightened, but earlier, she was gripped by a fear.
Those people looked at her and whispered,
"OMG, Leah Thorne and Hugh Xavier?"
"Don’t get it wrong, folks! Leah Thorne ca out of Hugh Xavier’s room disheveled in the middle of the night just to discuss a script."
"Wow, superstar Leah Thorne, what kind of show is this? Hugh Xavier is practically her foster father. Even the most lodramatic soap opera wouldn’t dare portray such a storyline."
"If you ask , what’s the big deal? Leah Thorne, with her stunning beauty, is tangled with Hugh Xavier, and we all know President Xavier dotes on her as well. The Xavier father and son are both utterly captivated by her."
"Leah Thorne, could you do just one thing and let go of my President Xavier? You’re practically sullying my idol."...
Leah closed her eyes, like a tightly combed feather fan, forcing herself out of those voices, "Mada Goldie, I’m very tired. Let’s talk tomorrow. I’m going to take a bath first."
Leah went into the bathroom.
...
Filling the bathtub with hot water, Leah removed her clothes and threw them into the trash bin, then swung her long, fair legs over the bathtub’s edge and subrged her entire body into the hot water.
Even though Hugh Xavier hadn’t touched her, she scrubbed her body vigorously. She felt dirty and repulsed.
She hugged herself tightly, staring blankly with empty eyes. She knew that outside, the storm was raging.
Online bullying battered her like a snowball growing ever larger.
The union of the Xaviers and the Pences was always going to be a center of attention, but nobody expected such a scandal.
Leah’s mind was filled with the grotesque image of Hugh Xavier’s face, and the verbal abuse from her youth by Mrs. Xavier, Laura, echoed back—a little tramp who would one day crawl into her foster father’s bed.
...
There was chaos outside as a stretch limousine cut through the scene, arriving like a sovereign and halting calmly.
Private secretary Coleman opened the rear door respectfully, and a pair of polished black shoes settled on the lawn—Justin Xavier had returned.
The maid swung open the villa door, and Justin entered with steady footsteps. The cold wind ruffled his black wool coat, bringing an air of cold severity.
Justin quickly ascended the stairs, his tall, handso figure under the golden crystal chandelier making it impossible to look away; he was noble and unattainable.
Soon, he disappeared into the corridor.
Amidst the storm, Justin Xavier returned.
Covered in the weariness of his travels.
...
Leah had been soaking in the bathtub for a long, long ti before dragging her exhausted body to bed. She didn’t want to think about anything right now; she just wanted to sleep.
With the curtains drawn, the atmosphere was intensely serene, yet it exuded a sense of oppression. Her sleep was restless, her delicate brows tightly knitted, as if she heard so sounds.
Mada Goldie was speaking, "President Xavier, you’re back!"
With a soft "click," the door was pushed open.
Leah’s eyes abruptly opened, as though she had sensed it. She sat up in bed and directed her clear, sleep-tinged eyes towards the door.
The door was open, and Justin Xavier stood at the threshold.
The man was dressed in a black wool coat, with a matching black suit underneath and sharply tailored black trousers. He stood against the light, returning amidst the storm and wind.
Justin Xavier had co back.
He had finally co back.
Leah’s gaze collided with the man’s deep, narrow eyes as he removed the black leather gloves from his hands and handed them to Coleman outside, then strode into the room. With a "click," he closed the door behind him.
Inside the room, outside the room—two worlds.
In this world, there was only him and her.
Justin looked at the woman dazed on the bed, walked over, and raised his well-defined hand to remove his black wool coat, followed by the suit. Underneath, he wore a clean, crisp white shirt, over which was a blue plaid business vest.
The business vest wrapped around his strong chest, the pocket adorned with a golden pin that glead with a cold, precious quality.
"Why are you staring at like a fool, don’t you recognize , hmm?" He faintly curled his thin lips.
Leah’s lashes trembled slightly like a tightly combed feather fan, and she suddenly didn’t know what to say.
Her voice was dry.
Justin stepped up to the edge of the bed, his tall, robust figure instantly enveloping Leah in his shadow. Lowering his handso eyes, he looked at her, then extended his well-defined large hand and touched her small face.
Her small, delicate face fit right in his palm as he lovingly stroked her with his rough fingertips. His thin, cool lips curved into a tender, lingering smile, "Leah, is this your wedding gift to ? Well, as you wished, this wedding is over."
-- A small story from the daily life of Jude and Yara --
In a luxurious private box, Jude Crawford heard the na "Isabelle Willow" once again. The Willow family had a girl who had taken the capital by storm.
"Jude, let show you a photo of the Willow family’s young daughter. She’s truly a beauty of national renown."
The wealthy heir showed him a photo, and Jude glanced at it—it was her.
At that ti, Isabelle Willow was accelerating her life’s progress, jumping grades at 14 to enter T University in Aethelgard to study jewelry design. She wore a white dress, books hugged to her chest, half of her profile bathed in sunlight, exuding a cold and exquisite elegance.
"Jude, in the latest rankings, this young lady from the Willow family KO’d all the socialites, directly rising to beco Aethelgard’s number one beauty. Many wealthy sons have pursued her in sports cars, but this talented lady is very aloof, doesn’t talk to anyone, and doesn’t smile."
Oh, really?
In Jude Crawford’s mind arose the image of her actively asking to exchange contacts, and her gentle brows and eyes were glistening, smiling at him with a light as brilliant as shattered diamonds.
In this lifeti, all her smiles were for him.
Only him.
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