novelraw Chapter 530: Sooner or later, they will get depression and commit suicide.
Chapter 530: Sooner or later, they will get depression and commit suicide.
When did it start, this hatred for her?
Was it when I discovered that Edward Stephens had become the producer of Director Carter’s film and insisted on elevating Daisy Ginger?
Was it when Daisy Ginger intentionally pushed her into the water, and when she complained to Edward Stephens, he coldly questioned her instead?
Or was it that day when Daisy Ginger secretly took her photos, and although Edward Stephens stood by her, he did nothing?
No, it was none of those.
It started the first time she met Daisy Ginger; she began to hate her then.
She hated Daisy Ginger’s face, which was even more beautiful than hers, hated her way of doing things, hated how Edward Stephens cared so much for her, hated someone fighting with her for the role of the Stephens family’s mistress.
Finally, Charlotte Smith stopped competing with her, and she was the only woman left around Edward Stephens, but then Daisy Ginger appeared.
And Edward Stephens cared about her too.
It was simply unforgivable.
Emma Magus clenched her hand slightly, her fingers painted with crimson nail polish digging into the flesh of her palm.
She had never hated anyone so much in her entire life, she never realized how much she subconsciously hated Daisy Ginger.
Hated her so much that she wished she would disappear from this world.
Thinking this way, she surprisingly felt a bit lighter inside.
She looked up, her lips moving slightly, gazing at the man’s face: "Brother Stephens, I..."
In front of this man, she didn’t know why, but all her thoughts could be expressed calmly.
It seemed as if no matter what she thought, this man could gently accept it all.
The man sat opposite her, just looking at her, and smiled softly.
*
"Sir, I’ve already arranged for Miss Magus to be sent home."
The butler, Thomas Woods, stood respectfully at the study’s doorway and spoke softly to the man inside.
The man leaned back against the chair, his pale hand gently toying with a small bronze incense burner on the table.
The scent in the air seemed to grow stronger; Thomas Woods subtly stepped back, seemingly to avoid the sandalwood fragrance that penetrated one’s lungs.
"Has George gone to bed?"
"The young master is insisting on going out tomorrow," Thomas Woods said respectfully, his head lowered, "He still refuses to sleep."
"..." Robert Stephens’s fingers, playing with the incense burner, paused slightly. His fair fingertips flicked the burner’s switch off, extinguishing the sandalwood, and he extended his hand to Thomas Woods, "Help me over to see him."
Thomas Woods acknowledged and quickly assisted him into the wheelchair.
George Stephens sat on his small bed, hugging a little basketball, his smooth, white little face full of displeasure.
When he saw Robert Stephens enter, he grunted coldly and turned his head away.
Perhaps in this world, only he dared to act so petulantly toward Robert Stephens, and only toward George would Robert be so tolerant.
Thomas Woods stepped out, not wanting to disturb the conversation between this mentor and pupil.
"Where do you want to run off to tomorrow?"
Robert Stephens slowly approached George, looking at the pouty child, his gentle gaze acquiring a touch of sternness.
"If you don’t focus on your studies and think about playing all day long, how will you inherit the family business in the future? Your father wasn’t like this when he was your age."
George Stephens pouted so much it seemed he could hang an oil bottle on it.
"You keep me cooped up in this room all day, I’ll end up with depression and commit suicide sooner or later!"
Robert Stephens frowned and scolded, "As a child, don’t talk nonsense all the time!"
"I’ve already finished tomorrow’s homework, I want to go out tomorrow."
"No."
George threw off the covers and burrowed in, turning his back to Robert Stephens: "I’ve informed you already, either way, I’m going out tomorrow, stop me if you dare."