Chapter 1553:
Under the weight of Corrine’s perceptive gaze, Rachel felt the thin veneer of her pretense dissolving. “I suppose that’s true,” she conceded with an awkward smile.
After a brief silence settled between them, Rachel brightened with a new suggestion. “Corrine, are you hungry? I could cook something for you.”
Though hunger eluded her, Corrine nodded in agreement, not wanting to reject Rachel’s genuine kindness.
Once alone, Corrine pushed herself up from the bed and reached for her phone.
The WhatsApp screen greeted her, unchanged since that fateful night.
The absence of new messages from Nate spoke volumes in its silence.
Corrine’s face hardened to marble.
She would wait and see who broke first in this battle of patience.
Nate clearly understood Amelie had the Quinn family’s backing, yet he remained passive. Evidently, his purpose was to protect them!
This hypocrite guarded the Quinn family zealously despite perpetually denying any connection to Elva. Yet if truly unrelated, why did he leap to their defense at every turn?
Corrine inhaled deeply, closed the chat window, and navigated to Jules in her contacts. Her fingers flew across the screen as she composed and dispatched her message.
Message sent, she showered methodically, changed into fresh clothes, and glided from the room.
Stepping into the hallway, she saw Carl emerging from the elevator.
“Grandpa,” she greeted, her voice warming instantly with genuine affection.
Carl approached slowly, leaning on his polished cane, his shrewd eyes appraising her. “Care to challenge an old man to chess?”
“Absolutely,” Corrine replied without hesitation.
She slipped her arm through Carl’s and accompanied him toward the study.
gⲁ𝗅𝓝𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀.𝗰0𝗺, 𝓜𝒐𝒓𝑒 novels
Meanwhile, Jules’ brow furrowed as Corrine’s message illuminated his screen during the meeting.
He instinctively called Rachel, then reconsidered, ending the call before it connected and rising abruptly from his chair.
His bewildered assistant inquired, “Mr. Ford, is everything alright?” Only Corrine possessed the unique ability to unsettle Jules like this.
This realization sparked concern in the assistant’s mind.
Jules cast him a brief glance. “Complete the meeting and brief me on any issues tomorrow.”
“Understood.”
Jules strode from the conference room and headed directly to the underground parking garage.
As he ignited the engine, his eyes flicked to Corrine’s message once more. “Rachel is cooking tonight. Are you sure you don’t want to come home and taste it?”
Thirty minutes later, Jules pulled into the driveway of the Ford Mansion. He unfastened his jacket and strode toward the main building, each step exuding the quiet confidence of a man accustomed to authority.
“Mr. Jules Ford, you’ve returned,” stammered a startled servant, barely concealing his surprise.
Jules acknowledged him with a slight nod, handed over his jacket, and methodically rolled up his sleeves, the platinum watch on his wrist catching the light as he moved.
In the kitchen, Rachel paused at the news of Jules’ arrival, hastily wiping her hands clean before turning to greet him.
She pivoted to find Jules approaching, his dark silhouette commanding the doorway, and felt her pulse quicken traitorously.
Unlike Nate’s cold control, Jules carried himself with effortless assurance—his authority not imposed but inherent, drawing respect without demanding it. In an instant, he stood before her, his gaze narrowing at the redness around her eyes. “Why are your eyes red?”
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