Chapter 187

Chapter 188

His eyes darkened: "Helping each other out? Want payment? Two adults?"

I realized I'd said the wrong thing, but couldn't take it back. Since I'd already said it, might as well keep going.

"Am I wrong? That's how it is. Between men and women, if we're really counting, I'm the one who loses out more, right?"

"I didn't ask you for payment, yet you have the nerve to ask me."

He looked at me, silent for a few seconds, then suddenly leaned in close.

I leaned back.

He reached out, cupped the back of my head, and kissed me hard, with a hint of punishment.

He kissed me until I couldn't breathe. I pushed him.

He let go, forehead pressed against mine: "You say you lose out more, so let me make it up to you, okay?"

I looked into his eyes so close to mine, my heart skipped a beat.

His thumb stroked my cheek: "If you don't want a title, that's fine. As you said, for two adults, it's normal to have those kinds of thoughts. I can help you."

"Besides, who knows you better than me, who can make you happier?"

Embarrassed and angry, I pushed him: "James, enough. Are you a starving wolf? Picking on me like crazy."

He laughed.

"Not enough." He said, "I've been starving for four years. Once isn't nearly enough."

I glared at him.

He looked at me, his gaze heavy.

I snorted: "Then you can go find that Savannah. She'd probably be happy to."

His eyes went cold: "Say that again."

His look scared me, and I backed away a bit.

He moved closer, bit my lip lightly—not hard, but it hurt a little.

I covered my mouth: "What are you doing?"

He looked at me, voice dropping low: "Sophia, don't joke about things like that."

"I don't want anyone but you. Don't push me toward other people, or I'll get angry."

"How scary I am when I'm angry, even I don't know."

I looked into his eyes, suddenly not knowing what to say.

After a few seconds of standoff, I looked away first: "Fine, fine, I was wrong, okay?"

"I shouldn't have said that and made you angry. I basically pushed you toward someone else, so can you back off a little? You're scaring me like this."

He didn't say anything, just kept looking at me.

His stare made me uncomfortable. I reached out to push him: "Get out, I need to change."

He didn't move: "Go ahead and change. I'll watch."

I glared at him.

The corner of his mouth curved slightly as he stood up: "I'll wait for you downstairs. The breakfast Aura brought got cold; there's hot food downstairs."

He walked out, the door closing softly behind him.

I breathed a sigh of relief, took off my pajamas, and was about to put on clothes to go out when I looked down at the red marks on my collarbone. Remembering last night, my face started burning again.

I changed and went downstairs. The living room was lively.

Aura was on the sofa watching cartoons, laughing her head off.

She was totally absorbed, humming along with the theme song as she watched.

Indigo sat beside her, wearing reading glasses and looking at her phone, occasionally glancing up at Aura with eyes full of smiles.

A delicious smell drifted from the kitchen where the housekeeper was making breakfast.

James sat at the dining table reading the newspaper.

The scene was ordinary, but full of the warmth of daily life.

When he saw me come down, his gaze lingered on me for a second, then he smiled and said, "Why are you just standing there? Come sit."

I walked toward the sofa.

Aura saw me and immediately ran over: "Mommy, you're up!"

She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the dining table.

"Mommy, come eat breakfast. Daddy specially made your favorite bacon sandwich himself."

I froze, looking toward the table.

Several breakfast items were laid out—milk and a bacon sandwich.

I glanced at James.

Did the sun rise in the west today?

His expression was calm as he pulled out a chair: "Sit."

I sat down.

Aura climbed onto the chair next to me and grabbed a bun to eat.

Indigo also came over to sit, glancing at me, then at James, smiling meaningfully.

"Sophia, how did you sleep last night?"

I kept my head down, drinking milk, and mumbled, "Pretty good."

Indigo smiled: "That's good then."

Her gaze moved from me to James's face and back again, her smile deepening.

I pretended not to notice.

After breakfast, I sat in the living room with Aura watching TV. The housekeeper was cleaning up the kitchen, talking quietly with another servant.

The housekeeper's voice wasn't loud, but the dining room was quiet, so I could vaguely hear.

"Did you notice? Mr. Smith and Ms. Brown seem to have made up."

"I think so too. Yesterday, Mr. Smith carried Ms. Brown back; she was asleep. This morning, Mr. Smith even cooked for Ms. Brown himself, and those marks on Ms. Brown's body... good news is probably coming soon."

"Aura is so cute. Even if it's just for the child, they'll get back together sooner or later. And look at Mr. Smith—since Ms. Brown came back, the way he looks at her is different. That's not how you look at an ex-wife at all."

My arms around Aura tightened slightly.

James, sitting by the sofa, glanced at me but said nothing.

Indigo, on the other side, also smiled, pretending not to hear.

Aura's attention was all on the TV—she didn't notice anything.

My face felt hot. I tried to stand up, but as soon as my foot touched the ground, my leg went weak, and I almost sat back down.

James reached out to steady me: "What's wrong?"

I gritted my teeth: "What do you think?"

He looked down at me, understanding in his eyes: "My fault. Let me carry you."

He bent down and scooped me up in his arms.

I struggled: "What are you doing? Put me down!"

He didn't put me down, just carried me upstairs.

Aura called from behind: "Daddy, why are you carrying Mommy?"

"Mommy's legs hurt. I'm taking her up to rest."

"Why do Mommy's legs hurt?"

"She walked too much yesterday."

Me: "..."

James actually lied to Aura!

Aura believed him and even ran over to hold my hand, very seriously telling me, "Mommy, rest well. Don't walk so much anymore."

I buried my face in James's chest, not wanting to talk.

He carried me upstairs, into the bedroom, and laid me on the bed.

I glared at him.

He sat on the edge of the bed, looking at me.

"Is your back sore? Want me to rub it for you?"

"You have some nerve saying that!"

The corner of his mouth curved slightly: "I apologize. And I'll rub it for you."

I snorted: "I don't accept."

He moved closer, placing his hand on my calf and gently massaging.

"Then I'm at your service as compensation."

I tried to pull my leg back, but he held it in place.

"Don't move. Let me massage it."

His technique was good, the pressure just right, very comfortable.

When his fingers pressed down, there was a sore, tight feeling, but after the massage, it felt much better.

I gradually relaxed.

He massaged while looking at me.

I looked at him, suddenly remembering yesterday—how he protected me, and even earlier, when the sulfuric acid was thrown, how he shielded me in his arms.

Time after time.

For me, he didn't even care about his own life.

Looking at him, that bit of grievance in my heart suddenly faded.