?Chapter 318:


    When the belt was suddenly pulled off, a chill swept through Connor, causing his spine to stiffen. Almost instantly, a wave of intense heat overwhelmed him.


    He caught her hands, drawing her close, and asked through clenched teeth, “Do you realize the consequences of trying to take off my pants, hmm? Just because you’re sleepwalking doesn’t mean you can do whatever you like, right?”


    The question was ostensibly for the tracker-recorder hidden in her hair, yet secretly, he hoped she would persist in her bold behavior, which intrigued him.


    Her audacity had set his expectations high. But to his surprise, she turned meek after his stern words, resembling a chastised child. She gently climbed off him and curled up against his arm, drifting back to sleep.


    Connor was at a loss for words. Should he be admonishing himself now? Just a short while ago, she had been causing chaos, wrecking his car and his house, yet now shey there, tranquil and obedient. Where had her fiery spirit vanished to?


    Every story unfolds at gα?ησν????s．??????


    Hey back, staring at the ceiling in silent contemtion, then gazed down at her peaceful, sleeping face, oblivious to the storm of emotions he was grappling with. He touched the tracker-recorder in her hair, his lips twisting into a mischievous smile.


    He said aloud, “Miss Nash, you so roughly stripped me, saw everything, and touched me. Don’t you think you owe me some responsibility for this?”


    With those words, he took a deep breath, trying to regain hisposure and serve as a reliable sleep aid. A sudden thought struck him, and he quickly grabbed his phone to text Domenic: “Keep everything as it is. Don’t move anything!”


    After sending the message, he closed his eyes once more. Outside, Marc and Terry sat dejectedly, surveying the disarray in the yard,menting the financial loss.


    Domenic approached with a chuckle and remarked, “Don’t bother about cleaning up. Mr. Daniels has instructed us not to touch anything. So, put aside any thoughts of salvaging parts to sell.”


    Marc and Terry, disheartened, didn’t even look up as they sighed. It seemed the rich couldn’t grasp the hardships of the less fortunate. Domenic, trying to lift their spirits, suggested, “Stop sighing. Things will improve. Let’s have something to eat. We’re all worn out and hungry.”


    The mention of food made Marc’s and Terry’s stomachs rumble—they were indeed famished since theirst meal of instant noodles had long disappeared. When they turned around, hoping for something different, they were dismayed to see Domenic holding yet another bowl of instant noodles. Disheartened, they turned away.


    Suddenly, both brothers groaned in disgust and began to vomit violently. “No more instant noodles!” theymented, wishing for anything but another serving of instant noodles.


    Just as Domenic was about to eat, he watched in horror as the brothers retched painfully in front of him. Frustrated by the dismal situation, Domenic angrily tossed the noodles into the trash can. No sooner had he done this than he too sumbed to nausea and vomited.


    The threey on the floor, utterly spent and staring at the ceiling, overwhelmed by their ordeal. Hunger still gnawing at him, Domenic reproached Marc and Terry. “Couldn’t you have held it back? That was a whole meal wasted.”


    Marc, barely able to speak, pleaded, “Domenic, please don’t talk about instant noodles anymore.”


    Terry, turning on his side in distress, dered, “From tomorrow, it’s bread and pickles for me. If anyone even mentions instant noodles, I swear I’ll lose it!”


    Domenic exhaled wearily. “Alright, but grab some bread and pickles for me too when you buy them.”


    Upstairs, Marissa remained oblivious to their ordeal, sleeping soundly until precisely 3:30 AM, when she awoke as usual


    .


    .


    .


    .