?<strong>Chapter 466:</strong>
“Understood,” Carrie said, brushing past him briskly.
She resolved to head upstairs, change, and distract herself by going shopping with Camille. The bright sunlight seemed to pierce even the cold of the air-conditioned house.
Carrie chose a chic purple backless T-shirt and paired it with breezy white pzzo pants.
Silently, Kristopher entered, selected another T-shirt from the wardrobe, and handed it to her. cing his hands on her shoulders, he frowned slightly. “This choice doesn’t suit you. Try this on instead.”
Carrie slipped out from under his grasp, eyeing the shirt skeptically. “I just finished my makeup. A tight T-shirt like that would ruin it.”
Kristopher set the shirt aside and grabbed a denim jacket, handing it to her with concern. “Consider a jacket over that; it’s quite revealing.”
Carrie rolled her eyes. “That jacket’s way too heavy. It’s zing hot outside—how do you expect me to wear that?”
Determined to find a suitable alternative, Kristopher searched the closet, finally presenting her with a few options. “Any of these should be fine. Just cover up your back a bit. It’s too exposed.”
Carrie was at a loss for words. The T-shirt was hardly scandalous, with only a modest cutout norger than a hand. She was taken aback by Kristopher’s unexpectedly conservative views on women’s attire.
Preferring not to debate such a minor issue, she snatched a shirt from the assortment he offered and quickly slipped it on. “Are you satisfied now?”
However, Kristopher’s dissatisfaction lingered. “That shirt’s somewhat transparent. I can still see…”
In response, Carrie dramatically began unbuttoning the newly donned shirt. “Then maybe I should wear nothing at all.”
Kristopher hastily retreated. “No, no—that one is eptable, just barely.”
Carrie stopped, grabbed her purse, and headed for the door.
Since Katrina’s true identity became public, Carrie found herself easily recognized. To minimize disturbances, she and Camille decided to meet at a boutique known for its exclusivity and privacy.
The boutique, tucked away inside an office building and operating by appointment only, catered to a selective clientele. It offered a mix of essible luxury items and rare, collectible pieces, ensuring privacy and exclusivity for its patrons.
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Carrie stepped into the boutique, knowing Camille was still caught in traffic. The boutique’s owner, a woman in her early thirties, radiated a blend of youthful charm and quiet confidence. She approached with a beautifully arranged afternoon tea and set it down before Carrie. “Mrs. Norris, do give this a taste. I prepared it myself after training in Izrosa to master dessert-making.”
Carrie lifted a slice of the delicateyered cake. The soft texture melted in her mouth as the fruity aroma blended harmoniously with the creamy sweetness. It struck the perfect bnce—not overly sweet, yet deeply satisfying. “This is incredible,” sheplimented earnestly. “It’s even better than the desserts in those famous Izrosa shops in Orkset.”
Before the shop owner could respond, a loud voice came from the doorway.
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