Find me in your labyrinth (Stella and Jonathan)

Chapter 149



Chapter 149

Then she thanked Jonathan.

Jonathan nodded slightly, his deep eyes showing no emotion. Before, when Estelle had troubles, she

would call him “uncle,” and he was quite happy to help. But today, he seemed a bit unhappy.

He just looked at Estelle, “Get in the car. I’ll take you back.”

Estelle didn’t move. She said softly, “We still have stuff at the Barry Group.”

Chris immediately understood her and said, “Estelle, you should go with your uncle first. I’m also going

to meet a friend at Barry, and I’ll pick up the stuff we left behind. I’ll call you later.”

Estelle had no choice but to nod, “Sorry to trouble you.”

Chris waved his hand in acknowledgement, expressing his gratitude to Jonathan once more, before

turning and departing from the

scene.

Millard took the driver’s seat, while Jonathan and Estelle settled in the back of the car.

The atmosphere inside the car was hushed and filled with a subtle sensitivity.

After a while, Jonathan glanced at Estelle and then shifted his gaze to the area behind her ear. His

expression grew somber as he asked, “Are you hurt?”

Estelle was taken aback and instinctively touched her ear, following his line of sight. She noticed the

red mark on her finger and stammered, “No, it’s just paint.”

Jonathan still looked unhappy, “You’re pretty impressive, getting into the police station once a month. I All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.

think you’re not looking for a sugar daddy, but a dad!”

Estelle suddenly looked at him.

Jonathan stared at her without blinking, “What? Am I wrong? Even Henson and Norah didn’t make me

worry this much!”

Every time the police called, they said she was taken away for being involved in group fights. Who

knew who she was fighting and whether she was injured?

Estelle’s face flushed crimson, her earlobes matching the redness. Her stubborn nature prevailed,

reminiscent of her demeanor at the Midnight Bar. She spoke in a chilly tone, “I didn’t call for you. And

even if I did, you didn’t need to come!”

Jonathan’s expression turned abruptly grave, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he spoke in a

measured tone, “Repeat that again!”

Interrupting the tense exchange, Millard interjected, “Ms. Macclain, Mr. Lamont was in a crucial meeting

when he received the call and rushed here promptly!”

Jonathan gave Millard a cold look, “Mind your own business!”

Millard concentrated on driving and dared not speak again.

Jonathan’s phone rang. He answered it, and it sounded like it was about company matters.

Estelle turned to look out of the car window, clutching her lips, feeling suffocated.

The moment she knew Jonathan was coming, she was a bit touched, and she thought about thanking

him when she saw him. But somehow, this is how it was when the two of them met recently.

After all, they had broken up now, and even when they were together, they explicitly agreed not to talk

about money. How could he be her sugar daddy then?

Jonathan hung up the phone and asked softly, “Where to? Staying at the Royal Mansion?”

Estelle’s throat felt parched, and she murmured with a hint of resignation, “Please, just drop me off at

the subway station up ahead.”

Jonathan glanced at her and asked again, “Where to?”

Estelle bit her lip, contemplating for a moment before finally uttering, “The Royal Mansion.”

Jonathan’s gaze lingered on her reddened lip, his eyes reflecting depth and comprehension. After a

brief pause, he averted his gaze.

Millard steered the car to the right at the upcoming intersection, leading them toward the Royal

Mansion,

Neither of them exchanged words thereafter, and a cold and silent atmosphere enveloped the car, with

time seemingly stretching out indefinitely.

As the car approached the Royal Mansion, Estelle finally spoke softly, “A friend of mine has something

going on and needs to stay for u few days, staying in the guest bedroom. Sorry, I’m telling you this

now, just for a few days.”

Jonathan looked back at her. ‘Girl or boy?”

“A Girl,” Estelle promptly responded.


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