?Chapter 393:


    Silence stretched between them, yet Elena didn’t rush Karen.


    Dressed simply in a white shirt and jeans, Elena exuded calmness. Her smooth skin and delicate features bore no trace of emotion. Neither pleased nor irritated, she stood tall, embodying a pir of strength.


    Karen couldn’t help but notice Elena’s unwavering posture, which radiated an aura of seriousness and determination. Even in stillness, Elena projected an inexplicable pressure that loomedrge.


    Minutes ticked by before Karen clenched her teeth, her face flushed with determination. “Boss,” she finally managed to utter, her voice barely above a whisper.


    Elena caught the words, her eyes lifting ever so slightly. Before she could respond, Karen, anxious that Elena might exploit the moment, blurted out, “I’ve called you that! You can’t ask for anything more!”


    Elena’s lips curled into a slow smile as she arched an eyebrow. “I never said a word.”


    Karen’s mouth fell open in surprise. She had braced herself for Elena to pounce, yet Elena let it slide as if it were nothing. Elyse had warned her that Elena could hold a grudge.


    Still skeptical, Karen squinted and asked, “Is that really it?”


    Elena replied casually, “If you’re looking for more demands, I could arrange that.”


    “I don’t want that! This is more than enough!” Karen shook her head vigorously, finally reacting. She quickly descended a few steps, moving to stand level with Elena.


    With her mouth snapping shut, Karen hurried away from the Spencer vi, not daring to nce back, as if the hounds of hell were on her heels.


    A faint smile yed on Elena’s lips. Compared to Elyse’s maniptive ways, Karen was far less irritating, though somewhat foolish. Elena stepped into the Spencer family vi, her eyes meeting Wesley’s steady gaze.


    The room provided a refreshing escape from the scorching heat outside. Elena sat across from Wesley, who suddenly extended his arm toward her. With a gentle flick of his wrist, he offered her a handkerchief, saying casually, “Here, you might want to dab off some of that sweat.”


    Elena touched her forehead and was surprised to find it slick with perspiration. She epted the handkerchief with a thankful smile, softly patting the glistening sweat from her skin.


    The handkerchief carried a faint scent of Wesley’s cedar cologne—delicate and inviting, it cut through the heavy warmth of the room.


    Cradling the handkerchief, Elena said, “This has gotten a bit dirty. I’ll wash it and have it returned to you soon.” Her tone was calm, her demeanor unshaken despite the heat.


    The harsh sun had flushed her cheeks a soft rose, beads of sweat dotted her forehead and nose, and her long hairy elegantly behind her, casting a slightly damp, radiant glow.


    Wesley caught a fleeting glimpse of her eyes—moist, vibrant, reflecting serene depth and a unique distance. His throat tightened, and his gaze dropped briefly as he masked a flicker of longing. “There’s no need for that,” he said, his voice huskier than intended.


    Elena recalled the ample staff at his home, making the gesture of returning the handkerchief almost unnecessary. She gently ced the used cloth on the coffee table.


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