?<strong>Chapter 863:</strong>


    Progress for Aliza in Isonridge had be an uphill battle, with high society avoiding her—a predicament she attributed entirely to Carrie. Now, Kristopher remained her sole advantage, and she was determined not to let Carrie snatch him away once more.


    Instead of remaining passive, Aliza decided to act.


    Determination hardened in her eyes as she swiftly devised a new strategy.


    Kyson had just left Camille and Carrie at Carrie’s apartment. As Carrie reached to activate the fingerprint lock, the door swung open unexpectedly.


    Dressed in gray loungewear and appearing freshly roused from sleep, Daxton stood in the doorway, his eyes clouded with remnants of dreams.


    “Daxton? You?” Camille eximed, taking in his disheveled appearance before turning to Carrie with a puzzled expression. “Carrie, are you and Daxton…?”


    Camille halted mid-sentence, her eyes darting to Kyson, who shared her astonishment.


    The recent near-vition had left Camille rattled, and now, the unexpected revtion of Carrie’s rtionship with Daxton only deepened her shock.


    In Camille’s eyes, Carrie epitomized conservatism, steadfastly adhering to traditional norms.


    Carrie had always maintained a demeanor that precluded romantic involvements with other men while her heart belonged to Kristopher—or so it seemed.


    The thought of Carrie cohabiting with Daxton without a formal bond, coupled with a possible romantic link to Kyson, was unfathomable to her.


    All these revtions made Camille question whether she was ensnared in a dream.


    g???????ν??????.k???? – ?????????? ??????????


    Unprepared for Daxton’s sudden appearance, Carrie massaged her temples, overwhelmed, and then ushered Camille and Kyson inside.


    “Please,e in, have a seat, and I’ll get you something to drink. I can exin everything,” she said calmly.


    Carrie guided Camille through the doorway first, leaving Daxton and Kyson to briefly evaluate each other.


    After a short pause, Daxton assumed the role of host. He stooped to retrieve slippers from a cab and ced them near the entrance.


    “Mr. Webster, I appreciate you escorting Carrie home.”


    Kyson slipped on the slippers with effortless grace, a faint smile on his lips and a sharp glint in his eyes.


    “Carrie and I are good friends.”


    The message was clear—Daxton had no ce thanking him for Carrie.


    Daxton maintained his courteous facade with a nod before heading to the living room.


    Retrieving two bottles of c from the fridge for Carrie, Daxton then turned to Kyson, saying, “Mr. Webster, would you prefer tea or coffee?”


    Daxton smiled casually.


    “Mr. Webster, make yourself at home. Treat this ce as if it were your own.”


    Kyson didn’t need the invitation.


    .


    .


    .