?<strong>Chapter 193:</strong>


    “Mr. Norris, your appetite’s quite something. Finished feasting at home and already heading out for seconds? Careful—you might bite off more than you can chew.”


    Her words carried the sting of a whip, sharp and cutting.


    Kristopher’s face darkened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “That’s none of your business,” he said icily, stepping on the gas and leaving her standing in a cloud of dust.


    As the car disappeared into the distance, Carrie realized, with a pang of irritation, that the health supplements Mny had gifted her were still in the back seat.


    Grabbing her phone, she dialed Kristopher. “My supplements are in the car.”


    His voice came backced with sarcasm. “You’re so eager to leave empty-handed, but now you’re clinging to those worthless things?”


    “They’re none of your concern,” she snapped. “Mny gave them to me. Hand them over.”


    “I don’t have time,” Kristopher said shortly before hanging up.


    Carrie let out an exasperated sigh, kicking at the gravel. That man was insufferable!


    A soft, amused voice came from behind her. “Who dared upset such a beauty?”


    Carrie pivoted, catching sight of Nate standing nearby, a bottle of juice in his hand. The 7-Eleven convenience store loomed behind him.


    “Mr. Crawford,” she greeted, her anger carefully veiled beneath a veneer of casualposure. “Oh, nothing. Just a close encounter with a reckless driver who nearly struck me.”


    Her smile bloomed—elegant and distant, a delicate flower of polite restraint. Despite the warmth, her eyes remained guarded.


    Nate yed along, feigning ignorance. “Indeed, dangerous drivers seem to be everywhere these days.”


    “Yes.” Carrie nodded, her response perfunctory. “What brings you here, Mr. Crawford?”


    After two seemingly chance encounters, suspicion was taking root. Was Nate following her?


    “Just passing through,” he replied, jiggling the juice bottle. “I was thinking about grabbing a bite but haven’t settled on a ce. Stopped for a drink to quench my thirst.”


    Though their meeting appeared coincidental, Nate had lingered long enough to overhear Carrie’s earlier outburst about Kristopher. The pieces were falling into ce—their affectionate disy in Foxfire County was merely a performance.


    Carrie’s reservations about him remained palpable. It made sense. If their rtionship were genuinely loving, why would she be alone on the street at night, vulnerable to potential trouble? Perhaps Yara’s whispers about divorce held more truth than fiction.


    Before Carrie could respond, Nate pressed forward. “Since we’re here by chance, might I have the honor of inviting you to dinner, beautifuldy?”


    Carrie subtly retreated, increasing the space between them. “I’ve just dined at the Norris Mansion,” she declined, purposefully emphasizing the location.


    “Norris Mansion?” Nate’s eyes swept theatrically around them. “This spot is at least ten miles from the mansion. Did you walk here alone? Where’s Mr. Norris?”


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