Chapter 675:
Oliver adjusted his tone, his approach now more empathetic. “What Mrs. Norris truly cares about isn’t the women around you, but the lack of certainty you give her. She wants to feel your unwavering devotion.”
He paused, then added meaningfully, “And right now, the bigger concern is the suitors circling her. Mr. Norris, if you keep holding back, silently giving without expressing yourself, someone else may seize the opportunity.”
Compared to the Kristopher who was now consumed by love, Oliver missed the ruthless man he had once been.
Kristopher’s gaze lingered on the glass for a moment longer.
Then, setting it down carefully, he said with an air of finality, “I understand. As for Aliza, don’t investigate her directly. Find someone who opposes the Herrera family and let them take the lead. When the truth comes out, have her dealt with quietly. Don’t let her know why it happened.”
Oliver blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected Kristopher to have already devised a strategy. The tension in his shoulders eased, and he nodded.
“Understood.”noveldrama
Kristopher’s attention shifted, his gaze finding Carrie across the room. She was laughing with Reece, her eyes crinkling into crescents as her radiant smile lit up the space around her.
His fingers unconsciously traced the rim of the glass again, his thoughts drifting.
Carrie had always been magnetic, drawing people to her without even trying. Now, Daxton, Kyson, and who knew how many others seemed captivated by her as well.
The thought gnawed at him. He wanted to pull her away from it all, to bring her back to the place she belonged—by his side.
But Kristopher wasn’t a man content with mere possession. He didn’t just want her physically present; he wanted her to return willingly, to look at him with the same love and devotion she once had.
The latter half of the birthday party went smoothly. After dinner, Carrie left with Reece and Arion to return to the Morrison residence, while Daxton took Camille back to her hotel.
When Daxton’s car pulled up outside the hotel, Camille’s eyes widened in surprise. Standing by the roadside was a familiar figure.
Her brother, Melvin Nixon, waited there in a simple white shirt and jeans. His usually aloof expression softened by a gentle smile as he spotted Camille.
“Melvin!” Camille exclaimed, her voice bright with delight as she bolted out of the car and ran to him.
She threw her arms around him, squeezing him tightly in a bear hug. The familiar scent of freshly laundered clothes, warmed by the sun, filled her senses.
Her brother never used perfume; this simple fragrance was the most comforting and secure to her.
Melvin hugged her just as tightly but said nothing at first. Instead, he glanced over her shoulder at Daxton, his smile polite but distant.
“Mr. Garcia,” he said evenly, “thank you for bringing my sister back.”
He still wore a smile, but it carried a faint hint of polite indifference.
Daxton’s response was equally formal. His tone was flat, his expression indifferent. “There’s no need to thank me. I was just following Carrie’s instructions to ensure her best friend got home safely. If anyone deserves thanks, it’s her. I’m just the messenger. I’ll be on my way now.”
Without waiting for a reply, Daxton gave a curt nod and got back into his car.
Melvin turned his attention back to Camille, his expression softening once more as he gently ruffled her hair.
.
.
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