the two-faced Adopted Girl Who Melted CEO's Ice-Cold Heart Chapter 628: Sending You Back to Kiss and Cuddle with Wilbur

Ignatius Leclair’s handso face tilted downward, half-hidden in the shadows of the snowy night, revealing no trace of emotion. Those feelings that grew in the darkness and the unspeakable desires made him unlike himself. Letting go? Impossible. The thing n are best at is achieving their goals without a word.

Ignatius Leclair saw her pale, frigid face and said indifferently, "I’ll arrange for Wilbur Turner to be sent to the hospital. Tonight, Nicholas slept at my place for the first ti and hasn’t been sleeping well. I’ve co to pick you up."

The man showed no hesitation, using his son as a shield.

Delphine glanced at him warily, seeing his cold deanor restored, a flicker of doubt overtaking her. She couldn’t quite determine how much of her words had reached him.

Tonight, Ignatius Leclair had truly scared her. She never imagined that the distinguished young master, usually so elegant and aristocratic, could be so fiercely violent. Thinking of the ferocity in his attack on Cassius Turner, Delphine subconsciously reached out to clutch the car door and murmured softly, "Nicholas doesn’t fuss about where he sleeps. I’ll go pick him up first thing tomorrow morning."

She pulled the door handle, only to find it wouldn’t budge.

Ignatius Leclair, noticing her sudden realization to leave, smirked coldly as the earlier righteous indignation completely vanished from her deanor. His sharp eyes traveled from her tear-streaked face downward, his voice laced with mockery: "Let you go back to continue cuddling with Wilbur Turner and hand a green hat to wear, huh?"

The man had already restarted the car, his voice low and heavy: "You’re absolutely right. I’m cold-blooded, ruthless, and domineering. So for your sake and Nicholas’s, you’d better keep your distance from other n."

If the preconceived notions were established—as if he could never compare to Magnus Leclair, nor to Wilbur Turner—then he might as well remain cold-hearted. As long as she stayed by his side, it was enough.

Delphine’s face turned deathly pale, her large eyes widening in shocked disbelief as she witnessed him once again return to his usual inscrutable, detached expression. She said nothing, clenching her fingertips tightly.

Ignatius Leclair had truly lost his mind.

Ignatius Leclair drove the car back to his villa. By now, it was deep into the night. Once they arrived, the man opened the door and silently waited for her to step out.

Delphine, her hands and feet icy, got out of the car. She had always been introverted and incapable of those kinds of hysterical outbursts. Threatened by Ignatius Leclair all the way to the villa, her mind had flashed with countless thoughts—travelling from the South Sea to the Imperial City, but among the people she counted as allies, she couldn’t identify anyone who could outweigh him. Was she truly forced to tear everything apart, causing a public confrontation? This man was exceptionally skilled at controlling public opinion.

Taking a deep breath as she got out, Delphine steadied herself. For now, the only viable course of action was to visit Madam Huo.

"Go inside and take a hot bath to dispel the cold. Nicholas and Benjamin are in the children’s room on the second floor." The man’s deep voice resonated in the frigid night, as low and heavy as the twilight lingering over a wintry evening. He wore a navy overcoat, its upturned collar accentuating his sharply defined features.

Delphine lowered her eyes, avoiding his gaze, and stepped through the snowy path into the villa.

The household servants had all retired for the night, except for one caretaker looking after Nicholas and Benjamin. Noticing the master’s return, the caretaker silently withdrew downstairs to rest.

Inside, the underfloor heating radiated warmth like a dragon against the freezing cold outside. Delphine took off her coat, changed into slippers, and ascended the stairs to check on the two children.

Seeing her go to check on the children, faint traces of warmth softened Ignatius Leclair’s otherwise handso, cold features. Sohow, the villa, usually cold and empty, seed to carry a slight sense of warmth tonight.

Ignatius Leclair sat in the living room and made a phone call to Maximilian, instructing, "Send Wilbur Turner to the hospital. Tomorrow afternoon, let her go to the hospital."

After hanging up, the man’s gaze turned as deep and frigid as the stars in the midnight sky.