Forgotten Love: Mr. President, Mrs. Fordham Has Rejected You!-Chapter 199: Unexpectedly Snatched by Young Master Monroe
In the evening, twilight enveloped the surroundings.
Claire delivered the contract to the client’s company, and on her way out, the roads were already jammed with the rush hour traffic.
She sighed and decided not to hurry back.
There was a coffee shop at the street corner, tastefully decorated, with a few outdoor tables set up by the entrance.
Her stomach growled, so she walked over and chose a corner seat.
The desserts on the menu looked very tempting.
She hesitated for a while and ordered a cup of coffee, a sandwich, and a slice of mousse cake.
Soon, the food was served.
The aroma of the coffee was rich; she took a big sip.
The next second, her whole face scrunched up, and she stuck out her tongue to fan the air.
Too bitter.
On the second floor, in a booth, Damian Hawthorne was discussing something with someone.
He glanced down inadvertently and saw a familiar figure below.
His gaze flickered with unhidden joy.
Immediately after, he saw her adorable expression after tasting the coffee.
Damian Hawthorne’s stern facial lines softened instantly, and he couldn’t help but smile.
Claire raised her hand to call a waiter and gestured with sign language.
She wanted sugar.
The waiter quickly brought her a sugar jar, and her eyes lit up as if she’d received a treasure.
One piece, two pieces, three pieces...
She focused on adding sugar cubes into her coffee cup, counting under her breath.
She didn’t stop until the sixth cube, just as the coffee was about to overflow, finally feeling satisfied.
This act left Damian Hawthorne upstairs dumbfounded.
Is this girl trying to turn coffee into sugar water?
She’s just too adorable.
"President Hawthorne, about this idea, what do you think..." The man opposite was still talking incessantly.
Damian Hawthorne snapped back to reality, resuming his usual formal tone.
"Ahem, proceed with your idea for now. I have something to do; let’s discuss the details next time."
The other party immediately understood and stood up to bid farewell.
"Okay, President Hawthorne."
Damian Hawthorne then got up and went downstairs.
He walked towards her, step by step, with a steady pace and an undeniable presence.
At this moment, Claire was holding a sandwich, stuffing her mouth full, her cheeks puffed out like a foraging little hamster, savoring her food.
When Damian Hawthorne’s tall figure loomed over her, she froze in terror.
"Pop."
She put down the sandwich in her hand, grabbed her bag, and was about to bolt.
Damian Hawthorne swiftly reached out and grabbed her wrist.
His palm was broad and warm, but his grip was gentle.
"Don’t run."
His voice was deep and gentle, with a comforting power.
"Swallow the food in your mouth first, don’t choke, okay?"
In front of her, he never seemed to lose his temper.
Claire nervously lowered her eyes, slowly chewing the food in her mouth.
After finally swallowing it, she picked up the overly sweet coffee and gulped down two large sips.
After doing all this, she dared to look up at him.
Damian Hawthorne had already pulled out a tissue, leaned closer to her, and naturally wiped the salad dressing from the corner of her mouth, then wiped her little hand as well.
His presence enveloped her, making Claire’s heart skip a beat.
"Why are you avoiding me?"
He asked softly, his dark eyes locked onto hers.
"Do you really not want to see me anymore?"
Claire suddenly pulled away from his hand, frantically gesturing.
[I’m not avoiding you.]
[I will wish you well, I just... don’t like sweets anymore.]
Don’t like sweets anymore?
Damian Hawthorne looked at the coffee almost turned into syrup, both amused and annoyed.
This girl still isn’t good at making excuses.
His heart softened, and his tone was further lowered.
"I’m sorry for making you sad last night."
"I promise you, I won’t casually date anyone anymore, okay?"
Claire was stunned and then quickly gestured.
[You dating someone has nothing to do with me.]
[I don’t care, nor will I mind.]
Damian Hawthorne’s handsome face darkened completely.
He stared at her, speaking each word with great seriousness.
"Claire, I like you. Can you... be my girlfriend?"
The air seemed to freeze at that moment.
Claire stared at him blankly, her mind blank.
A few seconds later, she came to her senses, her fingers hurriedly moving.
[I can’t be your girlfriend.]
[I can’t speak, you’ll be looked down upon.]
[I’m going home now, goodbye, no, never see you again.]
After saying this, she turned to leave, her eyes reluctantly glancing at the untouched mousse cake.
What a pity.
Damian Hawthorne held her back again, not letting her leave.
In desperation, Claire didn’t care anymore and directly lowered her head, biting down hard on his hand that held her.
"Hiss—" He winced in pain, pulling back his hand.
Taking advantage of this moment, she fled like a frightened rabbit.
Damian Hawthorne looked at the clear, saliva-marked bite on his hand, then raised his eyes to her fleeing back.
Instead of getting angry, he laughed quietly.
The heart in his chest pounded violently, almost leaping out of his throat.
...
As night deepened, Claire Norton turned over in bed, her body restless under the thin blanket.
In the next room, Vivi Sterling also lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.
But Stella Grant slept soundly.
Her breathing was even and long, a slight smile even playing on her lips.
Under Aiden Fordham’s love, she seemed to glow with radiance.
Finally, the day to depart to the Imperial Capital arrived.
Aiden Fordham and Hugh Whitman’s private jet took off at the first light of dawn.
Vivi Sterling and Stella Grant took a regular flight.
However, this flight seemed somewhat peculiar.
The large cabin was sparsely populated, as if deliberately emptied by someone.
Four tall, stern-looking men sat behind the first-class cabin.
The business class and economy class each had two silent women.
Vivi Sterling looked around, lightly raising an eyebrow.
"Is this a chartered flight?" she whispered to Stella Grant.
"It seems like people from the south really fear the cold, not wanting to travel north in winter."
Stella Grant also noticed the oddity, her clear eyes filled with confusion, but she just shook her head, saying nothing.
They didn’t know that all the passengers on the flight, along with the impeccably smiling flight attendants, were shadow bodyguards arranged by Aiden Fordham and Hugh Whitman.
Even with such meticulous arrangements, the two men far away in the Imperial Capital remained tense, fearing any mistake along the way.
The plane landed smoothly at the Imperial Capital International Airport.
In the parking lot, Aiden Fordham’s Maybach and Hugh Whitman’s Cullinan were parked side by side, the black car bodies exuding a cold, stern aura under the gloomy sky.
The plan was simple — each person takes one, and directly heads to Aiden Fordham’s estate in the Imperial Capital.
The scenery there is exceptional, but more importantly, the security is as solid as gold and stone.
At that moment, a black Alphard business vehicle silently glided over and parked not far away.
The car door opened, and the person who stepped out was Ethan Monroe.
He slightly nodded in the direction of Aiden Fordham and Hugh Whitman, a gesture of greeting, then leaned against the car body, fished out a cigarette, and lit it.
The swirling smoke blurred his handsome but aloof profile, his posture clearly indicating he was waiting for someone.
Soon after, Vivi Sterling and Stella Grant emerged from the exit, dragging their suitcases.
As the automatic door of the exit opened, the piercing cold wind instantly rushed in.
They immediately spotted the three men waiting by the car, each with distinct postures, and their steps involuntarily paused.
Aiden Fordham immediately approached them, his gaze precisely falling on Stella Grant.
"Stella."
His voice was deep as he reached out to take the handle of her suitcase.
A slender hand quickly extended, blocking his way.
Vivi Sterling’s tone was polite yet distant, "President Fordham, no need to trouble yourself, we have someone to pick us up."
Upon seeing this, Hugh Whitman’s eyes stirred, and he immediately stepped forward.
"Vivi, let me help you with your luggage."
Vivi Sterling slightly sidestepped and directly avoided his hand, her voice as cold as the air outside the window.
"No need to trouble Eldest Master Whitman."
After saying this, she turned her head, instantly blooming a bright smile as she called out to Ethan Monroe not far away.
"Young Master Monroe, could you help with the luggage?"
Ethan Monroe stubbed out his cigarette and stepped forward with his long legs, his chauffeur quickly following.
"Miss Sterling, Miss Grant, it’s been a long day."
His smile was gentle and appropriate, his gaze falling on their rather light clothing.
"Are you cold?"
Vivi Sterling’s smile grew even brighter, "Not cold, I’m like a penguin."
Hugh Whitman’s face instantly darkened as he remembered clearly that she had said last time that she couldn’t survive in places that were too cold.
Ethan Monroe also laughed, gentlemanly opening the car door for them, ushering them in.
The car’s heating was perfectly adjusted, dispelling all chill, warm and cozy enough to make one relax instantly.
The car drove steadily away, leaving behind a dashing silhouette.
Hugh Whitman stared at the disappearing taillights, squeezing out a sentence between his teeth first.
"President Fordham, your wife has been picked up by someone else. Shouldn’t you reflect on where your love truly lies?"
Aiden Fordham responded bluntly.
"Your wife and child are also in someone else’s car. At your pace, when the child is born, I doubt they’ll take the Whitman name."
Hugh Whitman’s face turned completely dark, "What now?"
Aiden Fordham’s gaze was deep and bottomless, carrying a strategic coldness.
"Ethan Monroe will definitely take them to the Monroe Family’s Hot Spring Resort Hotel."
He paused, his gaze falling meaningfully on Hugh Whitman.
"The Imperial Capital is your territory, what do you think?"
"Still holding back, hoping to form a marriage alliance with the Monroe Family?"
Their conversation felt like poisoned daggers, precisely striking each other’s sore spots with every sentence.
Contrary to that, Hugh Whitman laughed, though the smile never reached his eyes.
"Your provocation is useless; a marriage alliance is a fact. The Monroe family seniors have never said they’d forsake Sierra."
He deliberately emphasized his tone.
"Should they find out that Sierra is the brilliant God N, I reckon..."
Aiden Fordham’s expression indeed turned worse.
After a few seconds, he slowly spat out a sentence, more vicious than Hugh Whitman’s earlier words.
"It seems the Monroe family really treats your Whitman family well, specially arranging the hot spring hotel. I just wonder if Eldest Miss Sterling’s body can handle it during early pregnancy... tut tut."
"Shit!" Hugh Whitman cursed fiercely, no longer caring for propriety, yanking the car door open and jumping inside.
Aiden Fordham stood there, leisurely lighting a cigarette.
The minor urgency between his brows from earlier had long since vanished into smoke.
He just didn’t know that Stella Grant also had one in her belly; otherwise, he’d probably run faster than a rabbit.
...
The snow in the Imperial Capital was falling with a sort of wantonness.
Only an expanse of white remained between heaven and earth.
This whiteness made Stella Grant momentarily reminiscent of her days in Mardale, where the snow seemed just as endless.
The black business vehicle steadily stopped under the portico of a high-end venue.
Ethan Monroe pushed open the heavy wooden door for them.
Warm air mixed with the scent of food greeted them face to face.
He had ordered the most famous local copper pot hot pot and a set of roast duck on the hanging stove.
In the boiling copper pot over charcoal, the broth bubbled, sending up curls of white steam.
Ethan Monroe accompanied them, enjoying the cuisine while talking about various anecdotes from the Imperial Capital, discussing everything from whispers from previous dynasties to urban tales.
His voice was warm and magnetic, always finding the most intriguing points to delve into.
Vivi Sterling was amused, laughing heartily.
Stella Grant also smiled, unable to deny that this man indeed knew how to live and had a whimsy about him.
Yet Ethan Monroe’s gaze always unintentionally landed on Stella Grant.
As she lowered her head, lightly stirring the sesame paste with chopsticks, the slender arch of her neck exposed an elegant arc.
Watching her, his liking for her grew a little.
He got up to refill her hot tea.
In the moment of proximity, he caught a faint, elusive fragrance from her hair.
This elusive scent inexplicably made his throat go dry.
"Hot springs in the snow; that’s a marvel." He set down the teapot, his voice carrying a lure.
Vivi Sterling’s eyes lit up, her face filled with eager anticipation.
"Really? Just thinking about it feels so romantic."
Stella Grant’s eyes darkened a bit.
She knew that in early pregnancy, one should avoid contact with high-temperature hot springs.
Yet, seeing Vivi Sterling’s excited face and Ethan Monroe’s smiling eyes, she simply returned the smile, not challenging the scene.
Only after returning to the hotel would she talk to Vivi Sterling.
After the meal, Ethan Monroe indeed did not break his word.
The car drove all the way west, heading into the mountains to a hot spring resort.
With the car door open, a gust of biting wind instantly rushed inside.
Stella Grant instinctively shrank her neck.
Ethan Monroe quickly circled to her side.
An assistant was already waiting nearby, holding a long white down jacket.
He received the jacket and swiftly draped it over Stella Grant.
With hands imbued with his body warmth, he smoothly wrapped them around her shoulders, pulling her into an embrace.
The action was natural yet intimate.
"Wear this first, don’t catch a cold." His voice was tender enough to wring out water, sounding by her ear.
She raised her eyes and looked into his eyes full of concern.
"Thank you." She offered a polite smile.
This man was exceptionally considerate, almost excessively meticulous.
On the other side, the assistant quickly handed a black down jacket to Vivi Sterling.
In the shadows not far away, a black Maybach silently stood.
Aiden Fordham sat in the car, watching the white down jacket being draped over Stella Grant’s body, watching Ethan Monroe’s arms envelop her.
His fists clenched on his knees, knuckles turning blue-white from the force.
At that moment, three black SUVs with official insignia roared in, braking sharply at the hotel’s entrance.
The show was starting...
