the two-faced Adopted Girl Who Melted CEO's Ice-Cold Heart

The atmosphere inside the spacious SUV was quite awkward.

Because the show was sponsored by Constantine Stewart, the funds were ample, and Delphine Studio also contributed a considerable amount. The once financially strained production team was now flush with cash, so the SUV was the most luxurious seven-seater available.

Constantine Stewart occupied the front row alone, resting his eyes. His handsome and jade-like face lacked its usual gentle elegance, and his features were clouded with a deep gloom.

Before seeing her, Mr. Stewart had been harboring a faint longing. But upon seeing that she treated him as if he were invisible, a swelling rage rose up within him. He had supported her for six years, shared a bed for three, and yet she seemed utterly indifferent to him bringing Luo Aileen to the recording.

What an ungrateful wolf. She always wanted to escape his control, and now that she finally succeeded, she must be quite pleased, right?

Constantine Stewart was in a foul mood, especially after Desmond Wood got into the car and started provoking him.

The man opened his eyes and glanced indifferently at the noisy Desmond Wood, and coldly said, "Your brother has a hard time supporting your whole family."

The words were full of threat, causing Desmond Wood to nearly jump up, retorting, "If you think no one knows the things you do, you’re wrong. Threatening me with my brother is pointless. I’m doing this for justice."

Constantine Stewart chuckled softly, looked at the lively baby-faced Desmond like he was an idiot, and said dismissively, "In deference to Ignatius Leclair, let me teach you a lesson: power is justice. Keep being noisy, and I’ll send you to Antarctica to watch penguins."

"Mr. Stewart, Desmond merely has a lively personality, don’t take it to heart. We’re all friends, after all, and it’s best to keep things amicable," Charles Taylor intervened, holding the fuming Desmond back and smiling as a peacemaker.

Desmond, feeling frustrated, sat down. Constantine Stewart was right; though he was a music superstar with immense popularity and Finnian worked at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the influence Stewart wielded in the elite circles of the Imperial City meant disposing of him would be quite simple.

Power, indeed, wasn’t something he could compete with against Mr. Stewart of the Imperial City.

Constantine Stewart glanced at Charles Taylor and said blandly, "When I last saw your father, he invited me for drinks and crab. Send my regards to Mr. Taylor."

The man’s sharp eyes couldn’t miss how Charles Taylor stayed by Chloe Winston’s side; it inexplicably irritated him.

With just a simple sentence, he pinned Charles Taylor, who was of similar age, into the junior generation, further pressing him with his father.

Charles Taylor quietly swallowed this slight but wasn’t angry; he simply nodded and smiled, thinking Mr. Stewart was truly arrogant, with a domineering personality. The rumors of his gentle elegance must be blind fabrications.

But how could such a scion be interested in a woman like Luo Aileen?

Meanwhile, in another car, two assistants were fussing over Luo Aileen, serving tea and water, deliberately uttering flattery.

"Aileen, Mr. Stewart is so considerate to accompany you for the recording. Some people sure can’t see, no background and getting old, yet they still dare to challenge you."

"Exactly, when Aileen marries into the prestigious family, she’ll be a noble lady in elite circles."

"Don’t go around blabbing about Constantine coming with me; he’s a low-key person," Luo Aileen, feeling entirely pleased by the assistants, glanced coldly at the expressionless Chloe Winston, quickly pondering how to oust her from the production team.

Though she and Constantine had divorced, not seeing him for half a year, Luo Aileen still felt uneasy, always worried Chloe would take away everything she had now.

"Stop saying such shallow things. Climbing up by low-grade means embarrasses me just listening," Wendy Starling sharply reprimanded, then smiled at Chloe Winston.

Chloe Winston, seeing Wendy Starling openly confront Luo Aileen, felt a rise of goodwill, returning a slight smile before closing her eyes and suppressing the tumultuous thoughts in her mind.

The moment she saw Constantine Stewart, she did have the urge to run, but instinctively knew she mustn’t. If she ran, she’d never escape the psychological shadow that Stewart cast over her entire life.

Perhaps heaven intended to test her will and determination by orchestrating such a dramatic scenario. She had to bravely face it.

When the production crew’s car arrived at the filming location, it was already six in the evening. After five hours on the road, everyone groaned as they got out, complaining even more when they saw the barren filming environment.

Fortunately, Daniel had long arranged for a sumptuous dinner: whole roasted lamb and an extra-large Mongol hot pot. The delicious food temporarily made everyone forget about the harsh environment, even evoking a hint of novelty. After all, in such a desolate place, spending the night in tents was a stark contrast to sleeping in five-star hotels in a bustling city.

Staff led people in pitching tents and storing luggage. Once settled, they called everyone to eat roasted lamb and hot pot. This revelry didn’t seem like they were here for a survival reality show, but rather on vacation.

Chloe Winston watched as everyone got lost in the joy of the bonfire banquet. For some reason, a shadow lingered in her heart. This was the wilderness. She checked the location and surrounding environment on the way; nearby was a small desert, and it would take about three days to walk out with an experienced guide.

Unsurprisingly, this was the content to be filmed this episode. Yet, as a survival reality show, it couldn’t be this simple. She smiled slightly, watching Desmond eating roasted lamb and playing guitar, and shook her head lightly, thinking, "Fool, enjoy the last supper."

She didn’t eat much that night; over the past half year, her stomach had weakened, fearing roasted lamb would upset her stomach. She only had some light hotpot before returning to her tent.

She unzipped the tent, but before she entered, someone grabbed her wrist. The man’s familiar scent invaded her every pore.

Constantine Stewart seized her slender waist, feeling her tremble. His eyes, cold as starlight, lowered to her enticing and exquisite face, and he said in a deep voice, "You’ve lost weight, Ah-Chu. Seeing me, you don’t even plan to say hello? You used to call me uncle, then husband, and now you can’t even say Mr. Stewart?"

Chloe Winston felt as though the places he touched on her waist were burning. Her breathing stifled, her body too familiar with this man, naturally wanting to cling to him and act coy. She clenched her fist hard, the pain making her body quiver slightly, and quickly replied, "Mr. Stewart. We’ve long had no relation."

Her voice, as fine as a mosquito’s, carried an uncontrollable tremor. After a thousand days and nights of intimacy, meeting again only to become strangers.

The dark hue in Constantine Stewart’s eyes deepened. He looked at her slender neck, inhaling the fragrance of her hair, and slowly asked, "Then, what would make a relationship? Funny, I’ve never taken you camping in the wild, it might be quite an experience."

The man’s voice was low and indistinct, with an undeniable dominance.

Chloe Winston listened to his insinuations, disbelief widening her eyes. She looked at the man’s deceivingly gentle and handsome face, her chest heaving with anger; those years, his desires were never-ending, he adored her body, tried all manners of passion. Had it not been for both their homebody nature, Constantine Stewart would never have skipped trying it outdoors. But they divorced, what did he take her for?

Without thinking, Chloe raised her hand and slapped him hard, delivering a crisp slap sound.

Constantine Stewart didn’t dodge, his handsome face like jade marked with a small slap imprint. The man menacingly closed in on her, speaking in a low, husky voice, "A slap earns a session, understand?"

[Additional content added during the day, a further 4,000 words to go; please vote for the monthly ticket, good night~~]