“I’m leaving.” Naylor flicked the cigarette, strode outside.
“Go, go, let’s have fun ourselves.” Jonathan waved his hand in dissatisfaction and continued to enjoy himself with the woman in his arms.
Amy came out of the dressing room, without her intimate clothing. She could only wear her regular clothes underneath and cover herself with the work uniform, a wine-red short-sleeved shirt. But even this was not enough! She used her bag to shield her chest, pulled all her long hair to the front, and hurriedly walked out, head bowed.
“Amy, I’ll give you a ride.”
Naylor waited at the entrance, and as soon as she came out, he lowered the car window.
“No need.” Amy shook her head, clutching her bag even tighter.
“Amy, back in Las Vegas…”
Before Naylor could finish speaking, Lucas’s car slowly approached. A black Mercedes SUV, the window rolled down, and his sharp gaze directly locked onto Amy.
“Get in.”
He really refused to keep a low profile, annoyingly flamboyant! Amy’s face stiffened, and she reached out to hail a taxi. Crouching down, she got in and swiftly left.
The two men left behind exchanged glances through the rearview mirror. One to the left and the other to the right, they departed.
Amy sat in the taxi, watching the neon lights recede. A feeling of stifling anger welled up within her. She couldn’t help but take out her phone and sent a message to the arrogant man. He wouldn’t end up well.
She swiped the screen, and soon a Whatsapp Notification sound.
But it wasn’t from Lucy; it was from an unfamiliar profile picture with a name starting with “L.” The message read: “Amy, You are really lawless?”
Amy felt as if she had seen a ghost! When did Lucas tamper with her phone? She scrolled through her phone a few times and, sure enough, amidst the company contacts, there was Lucas’s number. He had saved his number on her phone, and she hadn’t even noticed!
Amy regretted it deeply, but how could she have the mood to play with her phone during these days?
Looking at the line of text, she forcefully turned off her phone, propping her hand against her forehead, breathing becoming rapid.
How should she face Lucas?
Husband? Godness, why does this term sound so awkward?
The taxi stopped in front of the villa, and as Amy pushed the door open, she froze. The house was brightly lit, and the front door was wide open.
“Madam is back.”
Two men in black suits hurriedly approached, opened the door respectfully, and said to her.
Amy took several steps back, looking up at the house. Indeed, it was her home, but how did these people get in?
“Mr. Smith is back.”
The two men turned and looked towards the other end of the tree-lined avenue, where an off-road vehicle was slowly approaching.
Amy retreated to the door, wide-eyed, watching him drive into her yard-her territory!
“Lucas.” She pulled open the car door forcefully after he stopped, stared at him disapprovingly, and asked, “How did you let these people come to my house?”
“Amy, according to our country’s law, this house is our joint property, not yours alone.”
He turned his head, lips curled up, and his eyes filled with starlight, chilling anyone who looked into them. This was a natural predator, emitting an aura of aggression at all times, instilling fear in people’s hearts.
Amy tried to stay calm, and indeed, the transfer of the house was done after they got their marriage certificate. However, she decided to consult a lawyer tomorrow to avoid being deceived by him.
He got out of the car and walked leisurely into the hall.
Amy followed behind him, glaring at him malevolently. The feeling of someone invading her territory was extremely unpleasant! Amy was not an easy person to deal with. Like wild thorns hidden beneath the surface, blooming brightly when in full flower, but once angered, she could sting you fiercely.
Inside the house, two middle-aged women were doing housework.
During the time Amy lived alone, she was busy job hunting every day. There were still some instant noodle boxes left in the kitchen. Judging from the small packets of pickled vegetables on the coffee table, her destitution was evident.
She suddenly blushed, unwilling to show any weakness in front of this man. She quickly walked over, grabbed the packs of pickled vegetables, and deftly put them into a plastic bag. With an indifferent tone, she said, “You’ve seen it. Mr. Smith, you can leave now.”
Lucas remained silent. Amy turned to look, and he was sitting on the sofa, holding the ears of her giraffe plushie, looking around with interest. Finally, his gaze landed on the watercolor painting on the wall.
“Did you paint this?” he asked, raising his hand.