Joan Graham’s brows slowly furrowed; she suddenly felt a sense of being out of favor.
Everyone outside knew her position as Mrs. Dalton was very secure. The family was a model one, taking family portraits and showing affection every year. In the circle of affluent ladies, she was the most envied.
But only she knew the bitterness within.
David Dalton probably never considered her as one of his own. She never took part in the company, and performance reports were never shared; she rely didn’t have to worry about food and clothing.
She took a light breath, her disappointed gaze landing on her son who had just entered the door, and suddenly she felt a wave of fatigue.
She thought—
If only Ethan were a healthy child, how wonderful would that be? The situation would be different.
Perhaps this is karma?
"Madam."
Butler Warren ca to her side, holding her arm and asked worriedly, "Do you want to go upstairs and rest? Wait until Mr. Dalton cos back; you can ask him then. Guessing aimlessly is most exhausting."
"Mm." She nodded her head.
"Mom..." Ethan Dalton ca up to her, gazing at her with raised eyes, "I want to eat pies, hungry." His big eyes looked innocent.
"Didn’t you just eat?" Joan Graham looked down at her son, "You can’t get any fatter."
"Hungry!" The little fellow held his belly, crying loudly, "Hungry, want pies! Waaa..."
The crying was so annoying!
Joan Graham exchanged a helpless glance with Butler Warren.
Butler Warren said to her, "I’ll make him a pie." Then he took Ethan Dalton’s hand, "Co, go with Butler Warren." and headed to the kitchen.
They say long illness has no filial offspring.
If this saying applies to children, it’s equally valid.
Joan Graham didn’t an she didn’t love Ethan Dalton, after all, he was her flesh and blood.
It’s just that over ti, she would also get tired, weary, depressed, and annoyed.
Imagine, sotis when we face our normal children at ho, we might feel particularly irritated and impulsive enough to want to hit them.
Afternoon.
Trevor had finished setting up the empty office next door, with all new purchases, even the carpet was laid, and all the glass was polished like new.
The air was filled with the fragrance of flowers.
David Dalton ca over for a personal inspection, nodding in satisfaction with a smile on his face, "Stella will definitely love it."
"Stella?" Trevor was puzzled, "Who is Stella?"
David Dalton’s chest suddenly tightened, "..." Facing Trevor’s gaze, he put away his smile and quickly corrected, "No, you heard wrong, private courtyard, private courtyard."
Then he looked around, smiling as he said, "Don’t you think this looks like a courtyard? With so many plants, there are over twenty pots of all sizes, and they’re so tall."
"Yes, lush and green." Trevor surveyed the surroundings, very satisfied with the arrangent, "A Chinese-style courtyard design, it just needs a fish tank!"
Trevor’s eyes suddenly lit up, "Yes, I’ll prepare it now!" With that, he turned and left.
David Dalton was very pleased, the smile on the old father’s face revealed his anticipation.
Before getting off work, he called Justin Kingston and sent him photos of the setup here.
And expressed a warm welco to friends from The Kingston Group’s design departnt to visit tomorrow.
In fact, Justin hadn’t yet explained the details of this matter to Mia Lane.
She had agreed to connect with the project, yet didn’t know what kind of project it was.
By evening.
At the Dalton family, when the black Volvo stopped in the courtyard, Joan Graham gathered her emotions and greeted them with great care.
When David Dalton got out of the car, Joan stood still before him, taking his suit jacket from his hands, "Back ho? Today Butler Warren made your favorite abalone."
"Mm." David Dalton’s expression was calm as he stepped toward the living room.
Joan Graham suppressed the countless questions in her heart, thinking she would have a good talk with him after dinner.
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