Maxwell Peary nonchalantly dawdled, taking a full ten minutes before finally leaving the bathroom. Nia Mitchell let out a sigh of relief, quickly relieved herself and then washed her face. Once done, she hurriedly sought out Maxwell Peary, but the vast bedroom was already empty. Nia Mitchell furrowed her brows. He must have gone downstairs, she thought. Nia Mitchell pouted and headed alone to the cloakroom to change. Faced with a pile of brightly colored clothes, she furrowed her brows again. What should I wear today? Would this one be too flashy? Would that one be too plain? After hesitating for a long time, she decided to stick to her usual style and be her true self. Maxwell Peary sat in the living room, newspaper in hand. Hearing a noise from the stairs, he looked up. "I thought you’d dress up like a colorful butterfly today." But there she was, still in her usual attire—a simple T-shirt and blue jeans, just like always. "I wouldn’t dress up just to please others. I am who I am!" Nia Mitchell pouted and declared loudly, conveniently forgetting her earlier dilemma in the cloakroom. Maxwell Peary nodded. Nia Mitchell, who usually took only ten minutes to get ready and come downstairs, had dawdled upstairs for over half an hour today, and yet she was still trying to justify herself. "Let’s have breakfast first." Maxwell Peary put down his newspaper, stood up, and headed for the dining hall. "Oh," Nia Mitchell murmured, lacking her usual energy. She walked stiffly, step by step, and then sat quietly at the dining table. Maxwell Peary glanced at her. Noticing her unnatural demeanor, he worried she might be a bit nervous. "My mother is a very good person. She’ll definitely like you." Nia Mitchell looked up awkwardly, nodding, though she seemed to want to say something but held back. Should I tell him that I’ve already met his mother before, and that it was quite an unpleasant encounter? How could I find that Phoebe Harris to be a good person? And she’ll definitely like me? Judging by her behavior that day, the only person she seemed to like was Belinda Swan. "If she doesn’t like me, will you really divorce me?" Nia Mitchell asked, her head bowed, incessantly stirring the porridge in front of her with a spoon. She didn’t dare to look up and meet his eyes. Forget trying to catch his eye to see if he was being perfunctory or lying; she didn’t even have the basic courage to lift her head. As she asked her question, the entire dining hall fell silent. The only sound she could hear was her spoon scraping against the bowl as she stirred her porridge. He wasn’t speaking. Was he thinking it over? "Nia Mitchell, I want to formally apologize to you." Maxwell Peary put down his chopsticks and looked at her, but he could only see the top of her head. "Lift your head." He frowned, displeased that he couldn’t see her small face. Hearing Maxwell Peary’s stern voice, Nia Mitchell stopped stirring her porridge, though she still kept her head down. This update ıs available on 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵~𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖~𝙣𝙚𝙩 "I told you to lift your head." Nia Mitchell didn’t listen, still keeping her head bowed and biting her lip tightly. Seeing this, Maxwell Peary sighed in frustration. Accustomed to giving orders, his authority was always greatly diminished whenever he dealt with Nia Mitchell. She was probably the only person in this world who dared to defy him, and yet, he was utterly helpless against her. He couldn’t very well resort to violence to make her submit, could he? Hearing his sigh, Nia Mitchell’s mind started racing again. His apology just now, what did it mean? "Nia Mitchell, I apologize. I shouldn’t have casually said that if my mother didn’t like you, I’d divorce you. Please, don’t worry about that, alright?"