โรแมนติก

Alejandro looked up and met Melanie’s gaze. “No, you stay at home and take care of the child. I don’t need you sticking your hand into the business of my company. And the last thing I want is to be dragged into some stupid fight with you while I get all kinds of stress from work. Also, next time? Don’t talk to me with that asinine tone.”

Melanie placed their daughter on the couch nearby as though she was ready for a throwdown with Alejandro. “What ‘asinine tone’ did I use? My God, don’t tell me you’re feeling worn out—not when I should be the one who’s sick and tired of all of this first! After all, look at my dear husband being emo over some other woman while neglecting his wife and daughter. How charitable do you expect me to be, huh? Or would you only turn around if I go to Tiffany and tell her to coax you back into your sensibilities?”

Alejandro’s expression turned icy. “Enough! An

Alejandro drew out a long breath. “I know, alright? But why must Melanie pick a fight with me over a woman I can never have, huh? Sure, it might have been my plan to take back Tiffany for myself, no matter the cost or sacrifice. But I see it so clearly now: everything is moving away and apart. Everything’s developing toward an impossibility. That old scum had cut off my options even before he died, forcing me into this marriage and having a child I didn’t want, and then using them and other things to bind me from doing what I want. Even after death, he traps me with the shares of the company, and now, I can’t cut my ties with the Larks even if I wanted to!” he ranted. “Had it not been for that old bastard, Tiffany and Jackson would not have married! They wouldn’t have a child! And I wouldn’t have been stuck with Melanie! Christ, thanks to him, I’m now trapped into the role of Alejandro S

Smore was already wide awake. Arianne had, in a sweet gesture, placed the child next to Mark on their bed. When Mark looked, his eyes were met with Smore’s big, watery ones as he muttered, “Mwilk… Want mwilk…”

Mark rubbed his face, forced himself to be awake, and carried Smore off the bed with one hand before heading down the stairs to make him some milk. Unfortunately, he had never done this before, and now, he was having trouble figuring out the amount of milk powder alone.

He was just about to try filling half of the milk bottle with powder before pouring half a bottle of water when Mary quickly swooped in for the rescue. “Oh, Mr. Tremont! Let me handle this. It will take just a jiffy; you can distract Master Aristotle in the meantime. Now, if you’re in a hurry, you could always go. I’ll help Master Aristotle change first, then.”

Mark still looked a little too blue. “I’m not in any

Chapter 1332 Being Alejandro’s Wife Is A Biblical Punishment (And Jett Spitting Facts)