Chapter 47
If he truly can’t keep his promise, I could always walk home. Southern Hill isn’t too large, and it’s not like it’s an impossible walk. Besides, it would be great if he could really clear my name from this plagiarism accusation.
With that thought, Myra fell silent, her gaze drifting out the car window. Tony, noticing her downcast expression, arched a brow, his eyes briefly glancing at her.
The car soon entered the mansion area, surrounded by sprawling gardens. Southern Hill was home to many affluent families, but none had a mansion as grand as the Hart Residence, which stood out in the area.
It took nearly five minutes to drive from the main gate to the towering European-style building. A large swan-shaped fountain stood proudly outside, with a grand mansion beyond it, white walls and red bricks framed by trees. It looked majestic and intricate at the same time.
Even Myra, who had seen various types of mansions, couldn’t help but marvel inwardly. The Hart Family truly was the most prestigious in Bradfort City.
Tony, who had been resting with his eyes closed, opened them and met her gaze. She quickly spoke up before he could say anything. “You go ahead and take care of your matters, Director Hart. I’ll take a stroll in the garden while I wait for you.”
She was defensive, probably due to his earlier joke about marriage. If I go inside with him, how will I explain my presence to his family, especially to Old Master Hart? I want to avoid any unnecessary embarrassment.
Tony frowned slightly at her words but didn’t argue. “The garden’s pretty large, so take your phone with you. I’ll call you when I’m done,” he said, a touch of nonchalance in his tone.
Myra nodded, subconsciously tightening her grip on her phone.
A small smile tugged at Tony’s lips as he observed her reaction. Before stepping out of the car, he reached toward her, brushing his hand across her forehead.
“Are you running a fever?” he asked, his tone calm.
Myra’s face turned crimson, and she suddenly felt annoyed by his earlier gesture. What was he doing? I thought he was just checking for dirt in my hair. But no—he had actually touched my forehead.
Her skin tingled where his hand had been, and she couldn’t shake the warmth that lingered. Annoyed but flustered, she quickly opened the car door and stepped out.
The Hart Residence garden was enormous, and as the evening lights came on, the bushes and flowers around her were bathed in a soft, romantic glow. The pebble paths and fresh air were almost enchanting. But after a brief walk, she realized she had become disoriented.
She sighed, irritated with herself. I should’ve known better. The garden was huge, and now I’m lost.
Just as she considered sitting down to wait, she heard a faint sound—a soft sobbing. Following the sound, she found a young boy, around eight years old, sitting by a flower bush, his face streaked with tears.
“My parents—why do they have to divorce? Sob… Sob… I don’t want them to…” he mumbled quietly.
The sight of him tugged at Myra’s heartstrings. She froze, memories of her own childhood rushing back. She remembered running to the garden years ago, crying out to a god she thought existed, begging for her parents to stop their divorce.
Without thinking, Myra stepped closer to the boy.