Hold On Mr.! Your Sweetheart is a Real Queen

Chapter 483: Return Daisy Ginger to the side of her beloved person.

And, the first month began to be profitable.

He didn’t understand the company operations, but seeing the old man suddenly fall silent, he knew how impressive Daisy Ginger’s move was.

Now, Royal Entertainment has become a small entertainment company with an annual revenue of over a hundred million.

Although it doesn’t compare to half a year’s income of a subsidiary of the Stephens Group, it’s enough to leave the old man stunned into silence.

In the past three years, he and Daisy Ginger have divided their work. He stayed home to take care of the kids, while Daisy went out to fight for their livelihood. Over time, it felt like this life was going to continue indefinitely, unchanged.

James Shelton got out of bed, walked to the window, and looked out into the dark night.

He gradually understood that it was time for him to return Daisy Ginger to the person she loved.

He lowered his eyes and smiled silently.

*

The villa.

In the morning, six o’clock.

Robert Stephens woke up on time under his excellent routine.

The servant brought from the Stephens family came forward to help him dress and then pushed him to the garden downstairs for a walk.

The early summer in Tsing City is still a bit colder than in Chicago, so he draped a thick blanket over his knees, his hands and feet still cold.

This body has prematurely entered a state of decline, helplessly.

"Alright, let’s go back."

The skin tucked under the fur was pale, devoid of any warmth.

After wandering in the garden for half an hour, Robert Stephens ended his walk and indicated to the servant to push him back to the room.

"Where’s George?"

Sitting in the dining room, Robert Stephens asked the butler casually while looking at the servant on the side.

"The young master says it’s cold and refuses to get out of bed."

"..." Robert Stephens’ brows furrowed slightly, a faint displeasure spreading across his elegant features. "Call him down. Tell him if he’s not downstairs within half an hour, he won’t be taken to see his father today."

"Yes, I’ll go now."

The butler, hearing this, agreed and couldn’t help but smile.

Robert Stephens took the small turquoise bowl handed to him by the servant, noticing the butler’s expression, seemingly amused, furrowed his brow slightly, "What are you smiling at?"

The butler, who had served him since he was young, was not as afraid to speak as others in the Stephens family. He smiled and said, "Ever since Master George came along, you’ve been talking much more, sir."

"..." What kind of nonsense is this?

Robert Stephens glanced at him, not understanding how this usually disciplined old man could spout such nonsense.

The old man nodded at him with a smile and went upstairs to call George Stephens up.

Robert Stephens withdrew his gaze, frowning slightly.

George Stephens, the child of Charlotte Smith and Edward Stephens, somewhat resembles Edward in appearance but unfortunately does not share Edward’s diligence and studious nature from childhood.

The child is smart, with a photographic memory, reciting from the age of three, but he’s afraid of the cold and heat, enjoys being idle, and is utterly lazy.

Both Charlotte Smith and Edward Stephens were never like this when they were young, causing a sort of bewildered exasperation as if it were a genetic mutation.

If it weren’t for this child’s laziness, he wouldn’t need to have someone call him to get up every day.

About ten minutes later, a neatly dressed George Stephens was led down by the butler, holding a small orange basketball, eyes half-closed.

Seeing his lackluster demeanor, Robert Stephens frowned once more, his pale fingertips tapping on the table, his voice hard, "Go wash your face and then eat."

George Stephens lowered his eyes, his voice soft, "Already washed, sir."

"Go wash it again."

His orders were never to be disobeyed. George Stephens sat on the chair, drooping his eyelids, "But I don’t want to wash my face again, sir."

Robert Stephens felt his brow had not relaxed today.

Robert Stephens: "Then we’ll return to Chicago today."

"I’ll go wash my face now, sir." George Stephens jumped off the chair immediately, still looking sleepy, yawning, muttering softly, "Always threatening to find dad..."

He wasn’t afraid of being heard by Robert Stephens.

For a three-year-old runt, of course, Robert Stephens couldn’t actually do anything to him, upon hearing, just furrowed his brow more tightly, his pale fingertips clenching the white porcelain spoon.

— Even Edward Stephens wasn’t this annoying when he was a kid, right?

He now suspected that when this guy grew up, he might not be able to get a wife.

A maid picked George Stephens up and coaxed him away to wash his face.

Five minutes later, the now energetic little kid finally climbed onto the dining chair.

He’s still a small child, so his spoon and chopsticks are specially made, child-sized. Robert Stephens, when George was two and a half, did not allow anyone to feed him, wanting to cultivate a sense of independence in him. George protested initially, to no avail, and now he’s accustomed to eating on his own.

It’s just that a child’s coordination is lacking, making eating laborious, spilling soup on his clothes, still drawing Robert Stephens’ rebuke.

With perseverance, he spent a month training himself not to spill soup anymore.

The mentor and student finished breakfast together, Robert Stephens sat on the sofa, wanting to rest a bit, when George Stephens came over bouncing a ball, "Sir, I want to see dad."

The man leaning against the fur opened his eyes, his snow-white face expressionless. He glanced at him blandly, "Did you finish the homework assigned last night?"

"Finished, sir." George pouted, unhappily asking, "You clearly said you’d take me to see dad today, are you lying to me?"

Robert Stephens was getting a bit of a headache from his noise.

He raised his hand, using a cold finger to rub his temple, and told the nearby butler, "Go contact Edward Stephens."

The butler acknowledged and left with the phone, George’s eyes lit up, and he ran after the butler.

"..." Robert Stephens watched his little figure trot away, feeling inexplicably annoyed, furrowing his brow slightly.

Edward Stephens never raised him a single day, so he didn’t understand why this kid was so attached to him.

...

...

...

After a moment, the butler returned.

"Sir, the second young master is not in town."

Robert Stephens opened his eyes, glancing at George Stephens’ suddenly drooping expression, asking nonchalantly, "Where did he run off to again?"

"Miss Emma Magus is filming in Tsing City. I hear he went to the set."

Robert Stephens rubbed his brow, leaned back on the sofa, feeling a bit weary, his voice languid, "Then prepare the car, we’ll go to the set at noon."

The sickness washed over him again, and he motioned for the servant to help him, seating him in the wheelchair.

"George, go recite the classical text from yesterday; don’t bother me until the car is ready."

"Got it, sir!"

This time his voice was noticeably bright and energetic, Robert Stephens lazily glanced at the child, seeing him holding back a smile, his expression softened slightly, he retracted his gaze and motioned to be pushed upstairs.