My Child and I Married a Billionaire novel Chapter 212

Chapter 212: Chapter 212: President Vaughn Is a Prima Donna

What?

’He always had his phone with him before. When did he develop this new habit?’

’My phone is dead, and he didn’t bring his. What are we going to do?’

Luckily, they hadn’t gotten on the highway. There were a few scattered houses along the sides of the national road. Cecelia Archer thought for a moment.

"Well, could I trouble you to wait for a moment? I’ll go find a place to charge my phone..."

"You want me to wait here? Don’t you know you’re supposed to stay away from a disabled vehicle to avoid a secondary accident?"

Damien Vaughn looked at her, displeased. "I’m going with you."

Cecelia Archer placed the warning triangle behind the car, grabbed her phone, and left the main road with him.

It was a very run-down small town—or more accurately, a village.

They walked for a long time without seeing a single young person. There were only a few middle-aged women with sun-darkened faces playing outside with their grandchildren.

Cecelia Archer tried to strike up a conversation with one of them.

"Hello, ma’am. My phone’s dead, and he left his at home. Our car broke down just up the road. I was wondering, do you happen to have a charger for this model? Could I possibly borrow it to charge my phone for a bit?"

The words had barely left her mouth when the middle-aged woman looked as if she’d seen a ghost. She scooped up her granddaughter, scurried back into her house, and SLAMMED the door shut.

Cecelia Archer: "???"

There was nothing for it but to try another house.

But the same thing happened. Before she could even finish her sentence, the person waved their hands dismissively, grabbed their child, and ran off.

"What’s going on? Why is everyone so wary? Do I really look like a scammer?"

Cecelia Archer asked Damien Vaughn, speechless.

Acting as if Cecelia Archer’s failure to borrow a charger had nothing to do with him, Damien Vaughn said bluntly,

"A lot of child traffickers use that exact excuse to get into people’s homes. It seems the anti-trafficking and anti-fraud campaigns around here have been quite effective."

"...I guess there’s no other way then. Since I apparently look like a child trafficker, I’ll have to find a phone store. I just hope there’s one nearby, and that the owner is willing to help me."

Damien Vaughn didn’t seem the least bit concerned about the dead phone. While Cecelia Archer walked ahead, craning her neck to look for a phone store, he was busy looking for a restaurant.

"I’m starving. Stop. Let’s eat first."

Hearing him, Cecelia Archer followed his gaze and saw a beef noodle soup shop.

Although the shop was very plain, even a bit dilapidated, the owner had set up a large cauldron by the entrance. A rich, white beef bone broth was simmering inside, its fragrant aroma wafting out, incredibly enticing.

Cecelia Archer wasn’t against eating, but...

"With what? We don’t have any money."

she reminded Damien Vaughn.

"You don’t have money. I do."

As if by magic, Damien Vaughn produced a wallet from his inner suit pocket and pulled out 200 yuan in cash.

"I have 200 yuan."

For the nth time that day, Cecelia Archer was left speechless.

’These days, not many people carry a physical wallet, and even fewer carry one with only 200 yuan in cash!’

"Only 200 yuan? You didn’t bring any cards?"

"Is 200 yuan not enough for you? Since when did you get such a big appetite?"

Damien Vaughn stuffed the wallet back in his pocket. "Are you coming or not?"

Cecelia Archer hadn’t eaten breakfast and was so hungry by this point that she really couldn’t hold out any longer. ’A full stomach makes for better work. Why not eat?’ The two of them entered the shop together.

"Sir, how much is the beef noodle soup?"

"A small bowl is 10 yuan, a large is 15. Do you want large or small?"

Before Cecelia Archer could speak, Damien Vaughn cut in, "I’ll have a large. She’ll have a small."

"Okay. Do you two want it spicy?"

"No."

After speaking, the incredibly distinguished President Vaughn frowned at the greasy, gleaming table and chairs, snatched the cheap paper napkins from the table, and tossed them to Cecelia Archer.

"It’s filthy. Wipe it."

Cecelia Archer: "..."

Perhaps because there were always maids at the Vaughn Family estate, she’d never paid much attention before. Only today did she realize what a high-maintenance jerk Damien Vaughn was.

’A petty, unreasonable, high-maintenance jerk.’

’An extra five yuan wouldn’t bankrupt him.’

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