"Hmph!" Jenny Hawthorne glared at her pretentiously, grabbed her bag, and got up to leave.
When she reached the door, she stopped and looked back at Jocelyn Morgan, her tone much calr, "Please tell him I won’t cling to him! I have my pride and self-respect!"
After saying that, she left without turning back.
"..." Jocelyn Morgan was left in utter confusion.
In the vast living room, she was the only one there, fidgeting, surrounded by a silence so profound that a pin drop could be heard. Was it because of what she said earlier that Trevor was so direct? It didn’t seem to be the case.
The dieval décor quickly caught her eye.
As a writer, Jocelyn Morgan was interested in these culturally rich things.
She got up to admire the paintings hanging on the walls.
After an unknown amount of ti, a low, gentle male voice ca from beside her, "Care for a taste?"
She was slightly startled, not knowing when Trevor had arrived. The tall figure stood beside her, holding two cups of coffee in his hands.
"I just brewed this. The coffee beans were personally grown by my godfather. You can’t buy this flavor outside," Trevor said, looking at her, the gentle light illuminating her face, leaving him montarily dazed.
Jocelyn Morgan snapped back to reality and explained, "Well, your blind date has left, she... she asked to tell you that she won’t cling to you. She has her pride and self-respect."
"I know, this was made for you, not for her."
"..."
Jocelyn Morgan returned to her senses and took the cup, "Thank you."
She sniffed it, "It slls good. What did you just say? Godfather? Who is your godfather?"
"The owner of this estate," Trevor replied, holding one bone china coffee cup while elegantly slipping his other hand into his pocket. "Mr. Thomas Walton."
"Where... where are you from?" Jocelyn Morgan asked curiously, "Are you an Aeridian national?"
"Of course not," he replied. "My godfather isn’t an Aeridian national either. We’re both from Riventhal. Our ho is in Riventhal."
"Oh, what a coincidence, I’m from there too." Jocelyn Morgan held the cup in both hands, a smile playing at her lips, "Quite a fate." She felt a bit awkward and lost for words.
Trevor asked her, "You said you’d treat to a al? Is that still on?"
"Of course!"
"Then how are you going to invite without asking for my contact information?" As he spoke, Trevor took out his phone, opened his WeChat profile, "Scan it."
Jocelyn Morgan looked at him, then at the phone, "Oh!" She really had a slow reaction.
She quickly took out her phone and scanned the code, adding him on WeChat face-to-face.
"Hehe." She really felt so awkward, "Let’s arrange sothing when we’re both back in Riventhal."
Riventhal, 10 p.m.
Ian Shelby didn’t work overti today. He returned ho early and put his phone on silent mode, feeling sowhat restless.
Couldn’t quite pinpoint why. Earlier, he had been studying on a network platform for two hours and now he was ready to sleep.
While going downstairs, he checked the living room door three tis. It was clearly closed, yet he felt like he had forgotten to shut it.
His right eyelid wouldn’t stop twitching.
It gave him the eerie feeling that sothing precious was being coveted and might be stolen.
But after checking several tis, there was nothing unusual at ho.
Returning upstairs again, Ian Shelby laid down on his bed, and inexplicably, the image of Jocelyn Morgan flashed through his mind—her every frown and smile.
She got hurt standing up for a friend, she was truly sincere.
She once borrowed his computer, and to keep it safe, she hugged it while sleeping for a whole night...
This girl gave Ian Shelby a familiar feeling. It was a strange feeling that tugged at his heart.
She’d left for abroad with her foot not fully healed, and he wondered how she was doing now.
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