Chapter 247: Thirty-Five, Six, Seven, Eight, or Nine Years Old?
"Are you hungry?"
Melody Monroe stiffened when she heard his voice. He already knew she was awake. She slowly nodded.
She was more than just hungry. She felt completely drained.
She tried to push herself up, but her wrists had no strength. Her hand slipped, and she fell back down.
Evan Fairchild helped her up, his smile as radiant as a spring breeze.
Melody Monroe hit him on the chest, but her punch was so weak it felt more like a playful tap.
"Did you collect the principal and interest?"
"Principal and interest? This doesn’t even count as interest."
Melody Monroe: ...
Evan Fairchild picked her up and walked outside.
Melody Monroe sat at the dining table and glanced at the clock on the wall.
9:37?!
’So, a whole day has passed?’
"Ready to eat?"
Melody Monroe looked at the lavish spread on the table and asked in surprise, "You made this?"
"I ordered it. Do you know how lucky Ian Monroe is? He gets to eat your cooking all the time."
"Isn’t it normal for a mother to cook for her child?"
"Not all mothers are like you. My mom has never cooked a meal in her life. She’s never even stepped into a kitchen."
Melody Monroe recalled what was written in the original novel. Evan Fairchild’s mother was truly a woman who was exquisite down to the last strand of her hair.
She came from a good family, married well, was skilled in the four arts—zither, Go, calligraphy, and painting—and was full of talent. Not only did she have two doctoral degrees, but she had also studied music abroad for many years. On top of all that, she was beautiful.
Back when Melody Monroe first read the character’s description in the novel, she had marveled at it, thinking that such a person could only exist in fiction; someone like that couldn’t possibly be real.
The original Melody had no self-awareness at all, showing up uninvited to Mrs. Fairchild’s birthday party.
She let everyone know that the Fairchild Family had an illegitimate son.
And that this illegitimate son was the child she had with Evan Fairchild. She wanted to use this to force the Fairchild Family to publicly acknowledge Ian’s identity, and in doing so, secure her own connection to them.
’Honestly, when I was reading the novel and saw Mrs. Fairchild humiliate the original Melody, it was incredibly satisfying to read.’
’But the crucial part now is that I’ve become the original Melody. If I have any improper ambitions, I’ll be the one getting humiliated in the future.’
Melody Monroe didn’t know why Evan Fairchild had suddenly brought up his mother.
’And what’s with that tone, so full of disdain?’
"I have two older brothers. My eldest brother is twelve years older than my second brother, and my second brother is ten years older than me. I have a nephew and a niece, fraternal twins, who were born in the same year as me."
Melody Monroe immediately put down her chopsticks.
’I need to sort this out.’
’Mr. Fairchild must be at least thirty-seven or thirty-eight, right?’
’But wait, that doesn’t seem right.’
"Mr. Fairchild, how old are you?" Melody Monroe asked timidly.
"Twenty-nine."
"COUGH, COUGH!" Melody Monroe choked on her food!
Evan Fairchild quickly poured her a glass of water.
Melody Monroe took a sip of water, her eyes tearing up from the coughing fit.
The truth was, when she’d guessed he was thirty-eight or thirty-nine, she had thought she was guessing on the low side.
But he was only twenty-nine!
Twenty-nine!
So it wasn’t that he maintained himself well; he was just genuinely young.
"How old did you think I was?"
"Somewhere in your mid-to-late thirties," Melody Monroe mumbled, then immediately lowered her head, not daring to look at his expression.
"Do I look like I’m forty?"
"It’s not that I think you look old, it’s just that your aura is so powerful," Melody Monroe immediately explained.
Evan Fairchild didn’t buy it for a second.
"I’ve been an orphan since I was a child," Melody Monroe said casually.
’The original Melody’s background was quite similar to my own. The difference was that I had an uncle, while the original Melody grew up in an orphanage. That must be why Rose Shaw got us mixed up.’