the two-faced Adopted Girl Who Melted CEO's Ice-Cold Heart Chapter 1200: Her Life Was Sheltered, She Probably Doesn’t U

Leah’s eyes throbbed with pain, the fingertips holding her phone faintly whitening. She couldn’t rember much more, only a few lines, a single fragnt.

Just confirming Eamon Turner’s identity was enough to tear open the blank years of her past, like ripping a gash, revealing a hideous face beneath.

"How much of the past did Miss rember?" After his grief, Cornelius Turner suddenly thought of this serious question. If Leah rembered everything, he had to inform Griffith Squire at once.

"Not much, just scattered fragnts. But I started having nightmares last year. Once I woke up, I’d forget all of it. Maybe I’ll slowly recall things from the past in the near future." Leah spoke in a low voice. "For now, don’t tell my brother about this."

She hung up, thinking of how she would jolt awake at midnight, limbs ice-cold, heart in a panic. The past had long existed deep in her mory; now it was rely being dug out bit by bit.

She turned off the movie. Her head ached a little, but she still couldn’t recall much more. Her nightmares had always revolved around that explosion back then, and aside from that, she had no mories of Richard Shaw at all.

As if that man, in the past, had been dispensable to her.

Cornelius Turner sensed sothing off in Leah’s voice. He mulled it over, and by the ti dawn broke at six, he couldn’t hold back any longer and called Griffith Squire.

Griffith Squire was already up doing Strength training. Years spent licking blood off the edge of a blade ant that even after settling into a quieter life, he didn’t dare relax. Dressed in sportswear, he ran a lap around the Coldwell estate and returned to find Aurora Coldwell holding his phone, wrapped in an oversized hooded sweater, the hood nearly shading her whole little face. When she saw him co back, her eyes lit up, and she hurriedly handed him the phone, saying, "It’s been ringing all morning. It’s Cornelius Turner looking for you."

Griffith Squire took the phone. Seeing her in a white sweater, the hood lined with white rabbit fur, her small face made to look even paler and more jade-like, he wanted to reach out and touch her. But he thought of how she’d spent years in seclusion, pouring her whole heart into painting, probably not understanding the turbulent rush of attraction between a man and a woman. So he rely lifted a large hand to ruffle her hair instead, then went to answer the call.

"Boss, Miss rembered Eamon. She called in the middle of the night to ask about his identity." Cornelius Turner let out a sigh of relief now that the call finally went through. "If Miss rembers everything, things won’t be looking too good."

At that, Griffith Squire’s expression grew a few degrees colder. When Leah was badly injured, she had indeed suffered a short bout of amnesia. As her body slowly recovered, she began to have frequent nightmares. After consulting a doctor, he had an ingredient added to her dicine to suppress mory and ease neurasthenia. That dicine had been stopped for years, and only now were her mories slowly returning. Already, that was very slow.

Griffith Squire had always taken a rather Buddhist view of it: if Leah rembered the past, he would appear as a mber of the Cox Family to clear her father’s na; if she never rembered, he could only overturn the case as an insider who knew the truth. Now that Leah was recovering her mory, he could only say this: when the moon is full, it begins to wane. The Shaw Family’s prosperity was reaching its end.

"I understand. Send people to keep an eye on what’s happening in the Imperial City." Griffith Squire’s voice was a bit hoarse, and he let out a cold laugh. "The Shaw Family can’t lay a finger on Leah. Once she regains her mory, the one who ought to be most afraid is Richard Shaw."

When a marriage runs its course and ends tangled in blood and lives, shouldn’t Richard Shaw be afraid?