?Chapter 144:


    Yvonne’s eyes stung, on the verge of tears, but she refused to let them fall.


    Meanwhile, Norton adjusted his tie, his expression unreadable.


    Watching Yvonne admit defeat so easily left an odd feeling in his chest.


    Without another word, he turned and headed upstairs.


    Normally, Yvonne would have stopped him or grabbed his arm.


    But this time, afraid of upsetting him, she stood frozen, not daring to move.


    “Well? Aren’t youing up?” Norton’s voice rang out from the stairs.


    Yvonne quickly caught up to the situation.


    As she spotted Norton about to take a shower, she hurried over, bubbling with enthusiasm. “Let me help you.”


    She tiptoed to help him out of his coat, then neatly hung it on a nearby rack. Beneath it, he wore a sleek ck turtleneck sweater, lending him an air of sophistication, though his face remained aloof and cold.


    “You want me to help with the sweater too?” she questioned tentatively.


    Norton moved to the sofa, sat down, and spread his arms, signaling for her assistance.


    Eager to help, Yvonne approached and began to lift the sweater.


    Herck of experience in such tasks led to a funny mishap—his arms slipped free, but his head was momentarily trapped in the sweater.


    “You’re messing with me, aren’t you? Did you do that on purpose?” Norton used after finally freeing himself, his irritation palpable.


    With a slight pout, Yvonne responded, “It wasn’t intentional. If it upset you, feel free to put the sweater over my head; I won’t stop you.”


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    Her submission was unexpected and somewhat unsettling to Norton.


    “Alright, I’ll give you another go.” He then stretched out his legs, his polished shoesing to rest before her.


    Recognizing the cue, Yvonne knelt and began to work on the shoes and socks.


    Now, only his more private attire remained. She paused, uncertain.


    “Do you expect me to shower with my pants on?” Norton’s tone dripped with sarcasm.


    Left with no alternative, she stepped forward and cautiously began to unfasten his belt.


    Minutes ticked by, and as her hands shook and sweat beaded on her nose, she still struggled to unbuckle his belt.


    His expression darkened, the atmosphere growing tense.


    In a soft, almost pleading voice, she asked, “Could you possibly show me how to do this?”


    Norton responded with a mockingugh, “Are you saying you can’t even unbuckle a belt?”


    Yvonne hesitated, her fingers frozen on the buckle, before admitting, “I truly can’t.”


    After all, she was someone who had grown up ying with dolls and handling hairpins. Men’s belts had never been part of her world; she hadn’t even handled one before.


    With a forced smile and through clenched teeth, Norton tipped her chin up. “People say you’re quite the heartbreaker, always surrounded by suitors and a regr at nightclubs.”


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