?<strong>Chapter 271:</strong>


    His cold gaze remained fixed on Carrie. “Do you really care so little about me?” he asked, his voice low and deliberate.


    Kristopher regretted his words the instant they escaped his lips. It was as if he had opened a Pandora’s box of awkwardness, and there was no closing it now. For someone who had always scorned jealousy-driven theatrics from women, he was baffled to realize that, deep down, he almost wanted Carrie to react with a sh of possessiveness.


    Carrie found his audacityughable. “Oh, that’s rich. When you and Lise pranced around in public like some royal parade, humiliating me every step of the way, you told me to ‘be mature’ and ‘understanding.’ Now, with Lettie—who’s nothing more than a delusional fangirl—you let it slide, and you think it’s because I don’t care about you? Are you hearing yourself right now?”


    She had reached her limit. The days of biting her tongue were behind her. From now on, she vowed to speak her mind.


    Kristopher tugged at his cor, irritation bubbling to the surface. “Why do you always bring up Lise?”


    It wasn’t just her biting words that got under his skin; it was the reflection they forced him to confront. Control had always been his forte. Yet, their marriage was drifting further from reason with each passing day. Even he didn’t recognize himself anymore.


    Carrie caught his gaze and smirked. Of course, the moment Lise’s name entered the conversation, he leapt to her defense. Typical.


    As her thoughts drifted back to the night before, Carrie couldn’t help but marvel at the paradox that was Kristopher. How could someone’s emotions and actions be so fundamentally at odds?


    She had always believed intimacy should be an extension of love—a me ignited by mutual respect and genuine connection. Without that, it was nothing more than raw instinct. And yet, despite everything, the feelings she harbored for him lingered. But at least she hadn’t let her heart—or her body—cloud her judgment.


    Kristopher waited for her tosh out with one of her trademarkebacks, but it never came. When he finally nced at her, he found her watching him with an icy, piercing stare. Their eyes locked for a moment. Then, just as swiftly, she looked away.


    “It’s all sorted now. I’ve got other things to handle.” She turned to Oliver, issued a brief instruction, and walked off without sparing Kristopher another nce.


    Frustration surged within Kristopher, and with a sharp kick, he sent a stool careening across the room. Oliver watched the scene unfold, his gaze flicking between Carrie’s retreating figure and Kristopher’s storm-cloud expression. He sighed inwardly. If Mr. Norris kept ying this game, it wouldn’t be long before he lost her for good.


    In a vi district in Esterhall, Daxton sat on a sofa, his usual warmth reced by a chilling intensity. His fingers drummed an almost hypnotic rhythm on the armrest.


    “Esterhall has a poption of a few hundred thousand,” he said. “And yet, after all these years, you still haven’t found him?”


    A middle-aged man with a bulging belly stood nearby, his forehead glistening with nervous sweat. He dabbed at his brow with a trembling hand, stammering, “M-Mr. Garcia, we’ve searched every piano teacher, every music shop owner, every bar pianist—anyone remotely connected to pianos.”


    But none of them match the description…”


    Daxton’s sharp gaze sliced through the man’s excuses. In a single, fluid motion, he grabbed a porcin cup and hurled it at the man’s head.


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