Half an hour later, the Maybach pulled into the courtyard of the Manor.
The staff respectfully took his jacket as he headed straight for the second floor and pushed open Giselle's door.
The room was covered in thick wool carpeting. Wearing a white silk loungewear set, Giselle sat cross-legged on the rug, piecing together a Lego model. When she saw him, she dropped the blocks, ran over barefoot, and wrapped her arms around his waist.
"You're finally here, Gideon!"
She looked up with a sickeningly sweet smile, batting her innocent eyes.
He let out a soft chuckle, effortlessly ruffling her hair. His eyes were overflowing with unyielding affection.
"You're a grown woman; stop acting like a kid."
He lifted her hand, checking the scratch she got at the gala.
It had already scabbed over, but to him, it was a critical injury that required his full attention.
"Does it still hurt?" he asked softly, lightly brushing the scab with his thumb.
"It stopped hurting a while ago. It just looks a bit ugly."
She shook her head, leaning comfortably against his shoulder.
"It's not ugly. The scab will fall off in a few days, and it'll be fine."
He humored her, offering reassurance.
Giselle lifted her head, her delicate features instantly morphing into an expression of guilt and grievance. Her eyes reddened, tears pooling dramatically.


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