“If you doubt me, feel free to consult a few lawyers with your legally uninformed son,” Hannah suggested.
She took a few strides forward, pulling her suitcase behind her, and remarked scornfully, “The only reason I ever agreed to that contract wasn’t because I thought I deserved only that meager sum. It’s because I was willing to invest four years of emotional labor into your miserly son.”
With a mocking smile, she turned back to look at them.
“It seems, now, that was unnecessary.”
Having said this, Hannah continued her walk toward the gate, dragging her luggage behind her.
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Eliana felt her heart racing. She turned to Leah and questioned cautiously, “What did she mean by that? Half the property? Didn’t Declan give her a substantial amount? It’s not about Declan’s assets for me. I’d love him whether he’s rich or not. I’m just concerned he’s too trusting and might get swindled.”
Leah’s eyes flickered briefly before she regained her composure.
“You’re not actually buying into her nonsense, are you? I’ve lived with her for four years. She’s no match for the Edwards family.”
With that, she warmly invited Eliana’s parents to relax inside the house.
Eliana paused, her mind drifting to the day she witnessed Bryson’s attentive behavior towards Hannah on the East Coast. It felt like something was amiss.
She quickly dismissed the thought. Influential people like Bryson bestowed minor acts of kindness as if tossing a bone to a stray dog.
Why would he care about an ordinary person like Hannah?
As Hannah stepped out of the villa, her head began to swim. She tried to hail a taxi using her phone, but her vision blurred, making it difficult.
The emotional turmoil of the evening worsened her existing cold, pushing her closer to a feverish state.
She felt herself faltering, about to collapse, when suddenly a pair of strong hands caught her around the waist.
Blinking, Hannah whispered, “Mr. Mitchell…”
Hannah wasn’t sure how much time had passed in sleep. She stirred, nestling further into the soft big bed, and blinked her eyes open.
As her vision adjusted, she noticed a figure perched on a nearby sofa.
Startled, she sat up immediately.
“Mr. Mitchell!”
“Mr. Mitchell?”
A voice echoed from Bryson’s laptop.
“We’ll conclude today’s meeting here.”
Unplugging his Bluetooth earpiece, Bryson shut his laptop and rose to his feet, approaching Hannah.