"Mrs. Hawthorne?" Suddenly, someone lightly tapped her shoulder.
Tanya swiftly turned around, her face pale with fear, and her slightly red eyes startled the unaware agent.
"I’m sorry, I suddenly don’t feel well. Let’s end it here today." Tanya maintained her composure.
Seeing her condition, the agent naturally didn’t say much. He had already set up his next appointment and conveniently gave Tanya a ride to her parking spot.
Tanya stood her ground, watching the agent’s car leave. She returned to her own vehicle, rested her head on the steering wheel, and took several deep breaths to calm herself down.
’Tanya, don’t hate your father... Promise me, before the age of twenty-five, don’t go looking for him...’
This was her mother, Charlotte Sinclair’s, last wish.
Until her death, that foolish woman clung to the token of love given by Sean Lynn—a vintage ring, which she made into a necklace and took it to the grave.
She understood her mother’s intentions; she didn’t want Tanya’s life to be driven by hatred, wanting her to wait until she was twenty-five, mature enough to make a choice.
Now, she was already twenty-seven years old.
Seeing Shelly Sullivan again, she still felt an enduring hatred.
Tanya slowly raised her head, her eyes becoming increasingly calm as she reviewed the clues she had gathered.
It seemed that during her junior and senior years, Vincent deceived her into brewing medicine for two years to save Cindy Lynn!
Tanya sneered sarcastically.
If another woman had appeared today at the Goldenwater Bay Villa No. 79, she would’ve only thought Vincent was playing around, a pure scumbag, and snapped some photos as evidence.
But the woman living here was Cindy Lynn; Tanya felt Vincent couldn’t even comprehend the depths of scum, simply foolish.
Being manipulated by Cindy Lynn, like a dog, for so many years!
Airport, underground parking garage.
Tanya parked the car in the nearest corner to the exit. She didn’t wait long before Daisy Bell, wearing sunglasses and a hat, came, cautiously observing the surroundings.
Tanya flashed her lights, and Daisy Bell immediately walked over, opened the passenger door, and lunged in for a bear hug.
"Baby Tanya, I missed you to death!"
Tanya smiled as she fended off her enthusiasm.
She was slow to warm up; forming a close friendship with Daisy Bell was largely thanks to Daisy’s unyielding determination.
On the way from the airport, Tanya briefly mentioned Cindy Lynn being Sean Lynn and Shelly Sullivan’s daughter.
Daisy Bell was the only one who knew about Tanya’s family situation.
Upon hearing, Daisy’s blood pressure surged.
"So, it’s the third one, birthed a third rate!" Daisy sneered, rolling her eyes and swearing, "These mother and daughter should be sold at a discount in the market of disgrace! Just wait, I’m going to find some paparazzi to expose them now!"
"Daisy, don’t get involved in this matter." Tanya stopped Daisy Bell, her expression calm but firm, "I won’t let them go."
Now that Cindy Lynn was involved with Vincent, and Mother Hawthorne’s family held significant influence in entertainment media, Daisy Bell, no matter her popularity, was merely a packaged celebrity, backed by her agency, far from true capital.
Daisy Bell was worried, "But you, alone..."
"Daisy." Tanya gripped Daisy Bell’s hand, softly saying, "Right now, I only have you by my side."
Tanya wasn’t a sentimental person, always speaking seven out of ten she felt.
Daisy understood her, her eyes slightly reddening, "Tanya Sinclair, you’re the only sister I have. I’ll say it again, whenever you need me, I’m here."
Tanya smiled, "I know." She changed the topic and asked, "Where are we going tonight?"
"An amazing place!" Daisy Bell laughed, "Just leave it to me."
Following Daisy Bell’s arrangements, Tanya maneuvered through the city to a supposedly upscale styling shop.
The first floor housed clothes and shoes, the second, makeovers.
Tanya glanced at the hot, strappy dresses hanging around—how to put it, any piece could be turned into a rag without cutting.
Tanya politely said, "Daisy, I don’t think I’m suitable for this style..."
Before she finished speaking, Daisy Bell had already tossed over two chosen outfits.
"Try them first, today you’re following my plan!"
While Tanya was in the fitting room, Daisy Bell called the club owner to book a private room, but reconsidered and changed her mind.
"Boss, exchange the private room for an open booth, and send over seven or eight handsome guys, the most good-looking, the ones who know how to behave!"
Hiding in a private room was too mundane; tonight, she was going to make her precious Tanya shine!
Daisy Bell was sitting on the sofa responding to her agent’s message when she suddenly heard Tanya’s slightly shy voice.
Daisy Bell looked up as Tanya walked over, her eyes wide with awe, as they filled with admiration.
She had always known Tanya was beautiful, even with a dowdy look or lab attire couldn’t hide her elegance. But she never knew Tanya could be this stunning when dressed up.
Daisy Bell was in shock, unabashedly exclaiming, "Holy crap, Tanya, you’re breathtakingly beautiful!"
The red spaghetti-strap short dress made Tanya Sinclair’s skin look even more dazzlingly white. The top part had a sultry cowl neck design, revealing her graceful swan-like neck and her slender, beautiful collarbones, exuding both innocence and allure.
The key was, how had she never noticed before that Tanya Sinclair was so slender, yet so well-proportioned!
She had breasts, a thin waist, paired with long, straight legs... and that face!
Tanya Sinclair was naturally fresh-faced, but with makeup, she shone brightly, especially those eyes, slightly upturned at the corners. Even if her eyes bore no affection, just a glance was enough to make a man imagine things.
Daisy Bell couldn’t help but remark, "Vincent Hawthorne, that bastard, really has no taste!"
But perhaps it was for the best—a scumbag like that didn’t deserve her Tanya.
Tanya Sinclair slowly looked at herself in the mirror, red dress, curly hair, a myriad of charming beauty mixed with her innate cool elegance, striking but not vulgar.
She actually liked red dresses, but she had only worn one once.
It was after she married Vincent Hawthorne, on her first birthday.
She had specially chosen a red strap evening gown, changed into it, and appeared in front of him, mustering her courage to ask, ’Vincent, do I look good?’
But Vincent Hawthorne only raised an eyebrow, scrutinized her, and with a half-smile, half-not, asked in return, ’What do you think?’
He walked over to her, hooking her slender strap with his fingertip.
’Tanya, women in the red light district usually like to dress ...’ The source of this content ɪs NovєlFіre.net
Being evaluated like that by the husband she loved most, she felt so humiliated she wanted to dig a hole to hide in.
At that time, Tanya Sinclair blushed helplessly.
’I also think it’s not quite appropriate, I’ll go change...’
But Vincent Hawthorne hooked her waist and pulled her into his arms.
’Tanya, you know I don’t mean to belittle you.’ He sighed, seeming sincere as he explained to her, but with one hand already creeping up her thigh.
Tanya Sinclair shuddered; Vincent Hawthorne was stroking the scar on her thigh.
The permanent scar, over ten centimeters long, she’d gotten while saving him in the past.
He whispered softly into her ear, his breath gentle and voice hoarse, ’And this scar, exposed, it’s ugly, people will laugh. Didn’t you promise me you wouldn’t wear short skirts anymore?’
Back then, she still tried to argue, ’But it’s just the two of us at home...’
’Hush.’ Vincent Hawthorne pressed his thumb against her lips, his seemingly tender eyes holding irrefutable gravity, he said, ’Tanya, I don’t like it either.’
How ridiculous, the scar was left because she saved him, but in the end, he loathed it!
At this moment, Tanya Sinclair stood in front of the mirror, looking at the now skin-colored scar on her thigh, she no longer felt ashamed or thought it ugly.
This was proof she was once brave enough to risk her life to love someone, Vincent Hawthorne was a worthless bastard, but her love was always noble!
Daisy Bell noticed Tanya Sinclair staring absentmindedly at the scar on her leg.
"Tanya, if you want to hide that scar..."
"No, no need to cover it." Tanya Sinclair stroked the scar, smiling, "I love my body very much, and I love this scar too."
Tanya Sinclair and Daisy Bell walked out of the store together, the sight of two beautiful women catching the attention of passersby.
Across the street, Julian Poole had just finished shopping and emerged from the mall, inadvertently looking up to see that striking red silhouette. Against the already dimming sky, it was incredibly bright.
The woman turned her face slightly, brushed away hair tousled by the wind, revealing an astonishingly beautiful face.
Julian Poole’s pupils contracted sharply.
The intersection swallowed his voice with its traffic noise, and they stood streets apart; his voice naturally couldn’t reach her.
He watched as Tanya Sinclair got into a car.
Julian Poole, anxious and distressed, drove after her. This time, he wouldn’t let her disappear from his sight again!
The sky had fallen, and the neon lights were just coming on.
As one of the top bars in Aris, already at opening time, it was bustling with young people seeking pleasure.
Vincent Hawthorne emerged from the private room, his head still heavy and dizzy from the hangover.
Last night, he drank a lot, got terribly drunk, and didn’t want Caden and Joy to see, so he stayed here and slept for a day. Rhys Lucas had been strictly watched by his family’s patriarch lately, leaving just before midnight.
When he woke up, only Cody Crawford and a few others remained in the private room, also heavily drunk, some sleeping, others in the inner room with girls.
Vincent Hawthorne greeted Cody Crawford and left directly.
He wasn’t particularly keen on places like nightclubs, a couple of times a month at most, and this was the first time he’d stayed overnight.
Not that he was particularly upright, just that he found such places noisy, and the women here revolting.
As he reached the stairwell, he heard the bar owner instructing his men.
"Secure the luxurious booth closest to the dance floor, don’t let anyone mistakenly sit there. They’ll be here soon, and just assign the A-team, seven people, to serve that table tonight."
Vincent Hawthorne undid his troublesome tie with one hand, upon hearing this, glanced at the empty booth location below, and couldn’t help but sneer.
Ordering seven at once... that’s quite the flamboyance?
If they were married, that man at home must be terribly incompetent.