After divorce, Ex-wife Revealed Identities

Chapter 143

In the morning, sunshine poured through the windows.

The woman on the bed slowly opened her eyes, her fair face showing a healthy glow.

What came to her sight first was Franklin's handsome face. He had gotten up and was watching her

from one side of the bed.

He looked possessive, even a bit aggressive as if he wanted to engrave her in his mind.

"Ready to get up?" he asked in a hoarse and deep voice.

"Yeah," Sylvia answered blandly.

"I'm going to fly the plane today, love." He looked at her with some kind of craving, "Come with me?"

He loved seeing her when he was on the plane.

"Don't push me, Franklin." Sylvia sat up and casually tucked a wisp of her loosened hair behind her

ear. For Franklin, it was an attractive move.

The morning in the Townyer Villa seemed a bit weird.

Tiffany came early in the morning.

She directly walked into the kitchen and started making coffee and sandwiches.

It seemed she was making breakfast for Franklin. Rock watched her from behind, not daring to interrupt

her.

She was not as friendly as Mrs. Maskelyne.

In the dining room, Franklin was browsing through newspapers. A simple breakfast was ready on the

table, black coffee, and sandwiches.

Rock glanced at it and sneered.

Miss Evans was so headstrong. She persisted in making breakfast for Master Franklin.

Though Master Franklin's breakfast seemed simple, what she didn't know was that only Mrs.

Maskelyne could make it the way he liked, no matter whether it was the thickness of the ham, the

omelets, or the toast.

Indeed, it was a sandwich on the delicate plate, but there was a small pile of corn kernels and

shredded carrot, which by the way was sliced messily. It looked alright from a certain distance, but if it

was looked at closer, it was…not good.

Rock could figure out by his toes that master was not going to eat it.

Franklin laid down the newspaper and sipped the coffee, "Who made this?"

The water temperature was different, and therefore the smell was different. It tasted much worse.

It couldn't have been made by Sylvia.

What she made was different.

As his eyes grew colder, all the servants were scared.

"Frank, I also made some cookies. Would you like to have a try?"

Despite her physical pain, Tiffany walked to the dining table with a tray in her hand.

She didn't notice the change in the atmosphere, including the tension in the air.

"Why are you in my house? Who consented? And who let you make breakfast in my kitchen?" There

was a strong discontent in his cold voice.

His sullen expression made the smile on Tiffany's face freeze. Was he unhappy? After receiving the

letter from Franklin early in the morning, she hurried here especially to make him breakfast, and he was

unhappy about that.

"Franklin, you sent me a letter, telling me to make you breakfast, didn't you? You gave me the

address…" Faced with a volley of questions from him, she could barely breathe.

"Tiffany, you should be clear about your position. I never asked anyone to send you a letter, let alone

ask you to come to my place. Stop doing silly things." He said in a harsh voice. For him, Tiffany was an

irksome and calculating woman.

Did she think he would be impressed by it?

"Don't say that, Franklin. I love you with all my heart." Tiffany, who had been busy for the whole NôvelDrama.Org (C) content.

morning but got nothing in return except his cold rejection, could not help feeling grieved and cried.

Large drops of tears fell down her face.

She took out a letter from her purse, showing it to Franklin, "You can read the letter yourself."

"Of course, you are fully prepared." The corner of Franklin's corner curved up ironically, "Your tears

don't mean anything to me. Don't presume that I would be touched by them."

Tiffany was insanely furious.

Shame flooded through her. She stood by the dining table, holding the letter.

If the letter was not from Franklin, who was it from? To make Franklin hate her more?

"Rock, only my wife deserves to stay here. Don't let another woman show up in my house and don't let

unauthorized people break this rule." Franklin glanced at Rock.

Rock had been working for him for years, so he would not give Rock a hard time.

But what happened today greatly disappointed him.

She was screwed by so many people last night, and now she came to seek sympathy by pretending

that she was the miserable one. What was wrong with her?

Did she take herself as the mistress of this house?

That was ridiculous.

When Sylvia was going downstairs, she caught sight of Tiffany, who was crying desolately.

She lifted an eyebrow and peeked at Franklin, who was sitting up straight.

As for the food on the table, he did not touch any of them.

"Since someone has made you breakfast, I'm going to leave." There was something chilly in her voice.

Hearing the voice, Tiffany raised her head instantly and directly looked into Sylvia's eyes. Though

without makeup, she looked bright and dainty. Her tall figure and shaped body were apparent even

though she was only wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans.

"Why are you here?" she screamed.

How come it was Sylvia again?

Sylvia's eyes met Tiffany's accidentally.

If Tiffany's gaze could kill, Sylvia did not doubt she would have been killed.

The deep resentment and hatred in Tiffany's eyes were so strong.

"You are here as well. Is there any particular reason that I can't be here?" Sylvia sneered. She was

about to ignore Tiffany and leave.

But Franklin was even quicker.

Sylvia had no idea when he had left the dining table. When she realized it, he had reached out his

hands and clutched her wrist, "I haven't had breakfast yet."

"Someone has made it for you," she answered in a bland tone.

"But I want to eat what you make." He looked down at her, "Yours is tastier."

"After seeing some trash early in the morning, my good mood is spoiled." She shook off his hands and

headed to the door.

He strode to keep up with her.

Tiffany watched them leave unwillingly. Just as she was about to follow them, Rock stopped her.

He said with a stern face, "Miss Evans, please don't make things hard for me. Master Franklin has

made it clear that he doesn't want you here."

Tiffany claimed to be the mistress of this house and insisted on going to the kitchen, which greatly

embarrassed him.

Had he not been clear of Franklin's mind, he would have evicted her already.

Now that Franklin had made it clear that there was only Sylvia deserved to be the mistress of the

house, he wouldn't hesitate anymore.

Tiffany glanced at him impatiently. 'You old idiot. When I become Mrs. Maskelyne, you will be the first to

be kicked out by me.'

Franklin went out and saw Sylvia walking in front of him with quick steps.

He watched her slim figure from behind with a somewhat hideous face.

It was like a hunter who was about to get his quarry.

He was only a few steps away from her.

Now, Sylvia's only wish was to leave the house and get a taxi.

Franklin just showed up in her life like a phantom and stirred her quiet and cozy life.

It sucked.

Taking the plane he flew was out of the problem.

Suddenly, a strong hand gripped her wrist.

Sylvia frowned and tried to get rid of him.

"Where are you going?" His voice was cold, but elegant, just like an animal waiting to catch his prey.

Sylvia glared at the big figure in front of her, "It's none of your business."

He sounded as elegant as ever, "Don't mess around, sweetie."

"What the fuck do you want? Franklin?" Sylvia stared at him angrily. Her patience was running out.

"All this time, all I wanted to fuck is you, don't you know that?" he smiled suddenly. His lowered voice

came into Sylvia's ears.

She could almost feel his chest vibrating.

"You are crazy." Sylvia could not help kicking him.

But her leg was caught by his large, firm hand. Before she could realize it, he had laid his hand on her

bare ankle.

The heat from his hand evoked a sense of quivering excitement in her.

Franklin was rather tall and handsome, which attracted several girls who were walking by.

Some of them wanted to take pictures but were stopped by his intimidating eyes.

He was standing there under the sunlight, looking so perfect as if he was carefully made by god.