While the dishes hadn’t been served yet, Charles Northwood finally steered the conversation to Nia Mitchell. "What exactly happened with Hendry Hampton?" He had rushed back as soon as he learned of the matter, not even taking the time to investigate. "It’s nothing. It’s all in the past." Nia Mitchell, embarrassed, averted her face, not daring to meet Charles Northwood’s gaze. "Nia Mitchell, we’re friends." He looked at her earnestly, hoping to get the most accurate and detailed account of what had happened from her. "It just wasn’t meant to be. Besides, it’s not a bad thing. I’m doing quite well now." Nia Mitchell chuckled; there was no pretense in her smile. Charles Northwood could tell that, at present, Nia Mitchell showed no trace of sadness. It seemed as if she had completely moved on from the incident, but he knew Nia Mitchell’s character well. For her to completely move on, she would need far more time than anyone could imagine. Of course, he didn’t know that in the past, Nia Mitchell indeed used to need a lot of time. But in this matter, a key, yet uncontrollable person had become involved: Maxwell Peary. "But speaking of which, how did you find out about this?" Nia Mitchell skillfully changed the subject, shifting the focus to Charles Northwood. "Fiona Sutton called and told me." Charles Northwood didn’t hide anything. Nia Mitchell was somewhat surprised; she hadn’t expected Fiona Sutton to be the one who called. Her surprise wasn’t due to Fiona Sutton’s personality, nor for any other reason. It was simply because if Fiona Sutton had wanted to tell Charles Northwood, she would have told him as soon as she found out. Why would she wait so long before calling Charles Northwood? Check latest chapters at 𝗻𝗼𝘷𝗲𝗹•𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮•𝕟𝕖𝕥 "Nia Mitchell, let me ask you, if Hendry Hampton..." Charles Northwood’s words were abruptly interrupted, and he frowned in displeasure. They both looked in the direction of the voice, only to see Fiona Sutton standing there, much to their surprise. Fiona Sutton was clad in a loose-fitting T-shirt and distressed jeans. Her shoulder-length black hair was casually tied up at the nape of her neck, giving her an exceptionally laid-back and carefree air. Charles Northwood had said Fiona Sutton had something on tonight and couldn’t pick him up from the airport. So why was she here? And all alone, at that. "Fiona Sutton? Are you here for dinner?" Nia Mitchell’s eyes widened in surprise, but Fiona Sutton wasn’t looking at Nia Mitchell. She was frowning at Charles Northwood, her expression rather odd. "I didn’t expect you to actually come back." Fiona Sutton walked over, masking her unease, and teased him loudly with a smile. Charles Northwood remained silent, sitting quietly, a stark contrast to the bustling restaurant. "Fiona Sutton, you haven’t eaten yet, have you? Want to join us?" Nia Mitchell scooted over, making room for her. Fiona Sutton smiled and casually sat down. "I decided to treat myself to a good meal to recuperate a bit, and I didn’t expect to run into you guys here." Fiona Sutton’s wrist, previously injured by Yancy Hastings, was wrapped in gauze, making it obvious at a glance that she was injured. "I was actually planning to ask you out," Nia Mitchell said to Fiona, "but since you mentioned you had something important to do, I didn’t want to disturb you. I didn’t realize you’d finish so quickly." Nia Mitchell smiled and handed Fiona Sutton the cup of tea from in front of her. "Oh, you ordered Boiled Meat Slices. This tea must not be for me, then," Fiona Sutton remarked.