Seeing her son acting , Aria Harris felt an overwhelming urge to shove him back into her womb. What an embarrassment! The way he prioritized some girl over his own mother just made her want to give him a good thrashing. "Marry a wife, forget your mother"—that ancient proverb certainly held true. "Since you’re okay now, let’s go back to Abyanabad. Your school is starting soon..." Aria said. "I’m not leaving until I see Curly," George said stubbornly. "She doesn’t even like you, so stop pestering her. Be careful, or she might kick you again," Aria said, exasperated. "You’re just a three-year-old brat. What do you know about ’like’?" "Are you seriously going to argue with me about whether you’re three or four? Does it even matter?" Aria retorted. "Because you always use my age to dismiss my love for Curly!" George retorted, fiddling with his Rubik’s Cube without looking up. "We’re definitely bound by the red string of fate... That’s why I fell in love with her the moment I saw her." Aria had once taken her son to a matchmaker’s temple and jokingly prayed for a good match for him. And then, they’d unexpectedly run into Curly here in Sileria City. Could this be some ill-fated destiny? Love? What does a three-year-old brat know about love! "Son, Curly’s father is Adrian Desmond," Owen Hunter chimed in. "You should find someone else to like. Who knows how fierce Uncle Desmond’s daughter will turn out to be? If you really marry her, you’ll be her slave for life." Owen could be friends with Adrian Desmond, but in-laws? Absolutely not. He couldn’t stand Adrian’s temper. If George and Curly actually, heaven forbid, got married, and Curly suffered the slightest grievance, he was certain Adrian would show up with a gun, ready to demolish their ancestral home. "Adrian Desmond? Are you sure?" Aria was just as surprised. After searching for so many years, everyone had nearly given up hope, and now, suddenly, he was found. George’s eyes lit up, and he grinned. "My father-in-law really ought to thank me. If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t have found Curly so quickly." The moment Aria heard "father-in-law," a headache bloomed. "George Hunter, could you be any more shameless? ’Father-in-law’ this, ’father-in-law’ that. Nothing’s even remotely settled, and you’re already calling him that!" "It’s just a matter of time." "And where, prey tell, does that confidence come from?" Owen crossed his arms, looking at his son. "If you marry Curly, you’ll probably only be able to have one wife your whole life." "Why would I want so many wives? Look at my father-in-law—he wanted two wives, and what happened? His wife and Curly both ran away from him." Owen scoffed, "That’s because he’s incompetent. Look at your Uncle Dan—he married eight wives, and he’s perfectly fine." "Then you’re pretty incompetent too, Dad. You only married Mom." George had successfully ignited a firestorm between his parents. Aria Harris had always detested the polygamous system in Abyanabad. Hearing her husband imply that having only one wife was a sign of incompetence, she couldn’t help but flare up. "Owen Hunter, so you’ve always thought having only one wife makes a man incompetent? Well then, to prove your ’competence,’ why don’t you go marry a few more, like Dan Taylor?" Aria snapped, her face flushed with anger. Owen realized his son had skillfully dug a pit for him. He hastily tried to placate his wife, "I was talking about Adrian, darling, not myself! Having you is more than enough for me. You’re worth ten wives, no, eight wives!" "You keep your true thoughts hidden; I never know what you’re actually thinking." "Owen Hunter, I’m warning you!" Aria declared. "If you dare to have an affair, if you dare to marry eight wives like Dan Taylor, I’ll take George and leave! You’ll never see either of us again for the rest of your life!" "You’re really letting your imagination run wild, dear. I swear, I’ll only ever have you as my wife in this lifetime." Owen shot his son a reproachful look. George just beamed back at him, all wide-eyed innocence, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. "George, you little instigator," Owen grumbled under his breath. Aria immediately bristled. Her son was the apple of her eye, ranking far above Owen in her heart. "What are you saying about my son? You’re the troublemaker here!" "He’s my son too..." Owen muttered. 「At the Johnson Family」 In the bathroom, Sienna Johnson stared at the marks on her body. She had scrubbed her skin raw, desperately trying to wash away the humiliation. But even with her skin red and stinging, the depression clung to her. Had he always treated her this way? As if she wasn’t a person, just a tool for his release? "Adrian Desmond!" she seethed. She couldn’t let that man off the hook! Her phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number, but somehow, Sienna knew it was Adrian Desmond. She answered but didn’t speak immediately. His voice came through the receiver, "Good morning, Sienna!" Just one night, and he was already calling her so intimately. "Where are you right now?" she asked, her voice like ice. Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs NoveI~Fire.net Adrian chuckled, his voice full of amusement. "Can’t bear to be away from me? Missing me already?" "Where are you?" she repeated, her tone flat and emotionless. "You want to see me? I can come to you. Where are you? At the Eastminster Group?" He really wanted to see her too. "Where are you?" she pressed, her persistence unwavering. "I’m at the Royal Hotel." Adrian laughed. "Room 1306. Are you coming to find me? You know, a woman meeting a man in his hotel room... that’s practically an invitation. Sienna, are you inviting me?" "You just wait there." With that, Sienna hung up. Adrian stared at his phone, a smile spreading across his face, brighter than the sunshine outside. He chuckled to himself. "Edward was right. Get a woman’s body, and her heart will follow." She was so resistant and defiant last night. Just one night later, and she’s already missing me? Heh... Adrian headed into the bathroom, took a quick shower, and put on the best set of clothes he had with him. He was in the middle of shaving when there was a knock at the door. Adrian quickly rinsed the remaining foam from his chin, wiped his face with a towel, ruffled his hair, gave himself a once-over in the mirror, and then went to open it. As he reached the door, he caught himself. Can’t look too eager. He deliberately slowed his pace, smoothed his expression, and then opened the door with a casual air. "What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for ages." But it wasn’t Sienna Johnson standing on the other side. Instead, ten police officers from the Special Police unit confronted him. They were clad in bulletproof vests, weapons loaded, with all ten guns aimed directly at him. Adrian’s face instantly darkened. He had crawled out of piles of the dead before; these ten special police officers weren’t necessarily enough to take him down. Even if there were fifteen of them, they might not succeed. "Hands up!" one of them barked. Adrian didn’t move a muscle. "Did Sienna Johnson send you?" he asked, his voice dangerously calm. The officers didn’t answer. "So, where is that woman, Sienna Johnson?" No wonder she asked where he was staying. So, she wasn’t missing him, she wanted to have him arrested!