Chapter 470:
When she finished, she stood upright and tossed the used tissue into the trash. Her expression didn’t shift, as if she had just cleaned a countertop instead of touching his bare skin.
“That’s done,” she said, picking up the bowl again. “Do you want more?”
Brad caught the distance in her voice. It stirred something in him. Still, he gave a small nod and opened his mouth again.
She kept feeding him until the bowl was empty. Once it was, she placed it on the tray like it was no big deal. “Rest now. Don’t push yourself.”
She left the room, but his scent clung to her like a memory that refused to fade. The butler noticed her brisk pace and stepped forward politely. “Did Mr. Morgan eat?”
Rylie gave a short nod. “Yes. You can take the tray. And tell him to quit being dramatic.”
The butler blinked, unsure how to respond.
What exactly had Brad done?
Back inside, Brad sat straighter against the headboard. He looked better — more alert — but his eyes were fixed downward, lost in thought.
What was going on in his head?
While clearing the dishes, the butler suddenly heard him speak. “Do I really come off as unattractive?”
Startled, the butler nearly dropped the bowl and spoon.
He turned to stare. Brad rubbed at his forehead and muttered, “Forget it. I must be losing it. Go.”
The butler stiffened and backed out, his thoughts spinning.
Fresh stories here gαℓησν𝒆𝓁s․cøm
Was this really happening? Brad — the famous admiral — sulking over his looks? Who would’ve guessed?
Meanwhile, Rylie had just stepped past the front gate when a sound behind her made her turn.
Perla stood there, small and stiff in her plain clothes. “Miss Owen…”
Rylie stopped and gave her a calm look. “Do you need something?”
Before she could finish the sentence, Perla dropped to her knees and shuffled closer, her hands grabbing at Rylie’s pant leg.
Tears streamed down her face as she pleaded, “Please, don’t take Mr. Morgan from my daughter. She’s loved him so much. He’s everything she has. You can choose anyone, but my daughter — she only has him.”
Rylie narrowed her eyes slightly but kept quiet, her stare sharp and cold on Perla.
With no reply from her, Perla bent low, voice shaking. “Please, Miss Owen, don’t take my daughter’s man. I’m begging you. Please.”
When a mother no longer cared about pride and begged for her daughter, it meant her dignity had already long been lost.
Thinking she had a fair grasp of Brad’s nature, Rylie slowly crouched and studied the tired look on Perla’s face. Her voice dropped to a quiet murmur.
.
.
.