Nevertheless, Wrenna seemingly didn't change her indulgent way of drinking despite choking once.
Nevertheless, Wrenna seemingly didn't change her indulgent way of drinking despite choking once.
As before, she continued drinking straight from the bottle with Harold.
In no time, half the bottle of top-notch vodka in their hands were gone.
Even Harold's gaze had begun losing focus.
While he gazed at Wrenna in front of him, his mind suddenly short-circuited, and he mistook Wrenna for Isabella.
Wrenna was in an even worse condition. After having drunk half a bottle of top-notch vodka, she was burning up badly.
She lifted her hands and yanked at her clothes.
Soon, she had taken off her blazer, revealing the white blouse within.
Having had a child, her figure had an added allure an innocent maiden lacked.
Thus, it was incredibly tempting to many men, especially when she had such an independent personality.
“Bella, what do I need to do before you believe that I'm the God of War?”
With glassy eyes, Harold walked over and grabbed Wrenna's hand. His gaze was tender, but his movements were rough as he put that question forth.
“Buzz off! I'm not Bella! I'm Wrenna. You've got the wrong person! It feels so hot!” Wrenna huffed indignantly, shaking his hand off.
It was as though she was dissatisfied with all the men in the world.
Right after saying that, she felt so feverish that she even stripped her blouse off.
Then, she dashed right into the bathroom.
Harold had also drunk a lot, so he likewise felt sick. He sprinted into the bathroom as well.
Subsequently, the tipsy duo made their way back to the couch in the living room while supporting each other.
Unknowingly, sparks started flying between them as they remained in the same space alone. Limbs entanglingly, they tumbled onto the couch.
The next day, Wrenna awakened to them both sleeping soundly while hugging each other under the same blanket.
At a single glance, she could tell that the blanket belonged to Francesca.
“Ahh! You're such a b*stard, Harold Campbell!”
She lifted the quilt and glanced down at herself, only to shriek abruptly.
Smacking Harold—who was still deep in slumber—across the face, she stormed back to her room with the blanket wrapped around her.
Harold was jolted awake by her slap and scream.
Before he could figure out what had happened, Wrenna was already gone from the living room.
He shook his head before he felt a chill sweeping across his body. As soon as he looked down at himself, his expression changed drastically.
Unbeknownst to him, an even more shocking revelation was yet to come.
Right after saying that, she felt so feverish that she even stripped her blouse off.
When he wanted to look for his clothes, he inadvertently glimpsed an exceedingly conspicuous scarlet stain on the couch.
At once, a string in his mind snapped.
“Wrenna was still a virgin? How is this possible? Could it be that Charlotte isn't her biological daughter?” he muttered to himself with an incredulous expression on his face even as he gaped at the striking scarlet stain on the couch.
Shaking his head that was still throbbing slightly, he quickly got dressed.
He then glanced at the time, only to see that it was already nine o'clock.
At that precise moment, Wrenna's house door was pushed open from the outside. Francesca walked in with a shopping basket in hand.
“You're awake, sir? I'll prepare some breakfast for you both so that you can eat before going to work!”
Francesca threw him a strange look before going into the kitchen with the groceries she had bought.
Harold smacked his own forehead, frustration written all over his face.
She must have been the one who covered us with the blanket. Great, just great! With her bearing witness to it all, I can't deny responsibility even if I wanted to do so.
As he was at a loss, Wrenna stepped out of the room, fully dressed.
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