Chapter 84: Chapter 84: This Must Be Sister-in-law

The man in sunglasses stepped out. When he saw what was happening, he clasped his hands behind his back, clearly having no intention of getting involved. President Miller, startled, immediately yanked harder on Yvonne Sutton.

Yvonne, meanwhile, looked through the open door and saw the room was thick with smoke. The floor was a mess, and a short, stout man was kneeling on the ground, his clothes dirty, disheveled, and stained with blood. He was probably in the middle of a beating.

Yvonne looked at the people sitting around the table. Their figures were obscured by the smoke as they laughed, talked, or drank. Though the scene appeared peaceful, it was suffused with a chilling aura.

The man directly facing the door was leaning back in his chair, tapping the ash from his cigarette with his index finger. Someone next to him leaned in to speak, and he gave a faint smile, gently shaking his head.

"Honey..." Yvonne called out, stunned.

At the sound of her voice, the man inside immediately looked up. When he saw it was her, his brow furrowed, and he stood up and walked out.

Wyatt Shaw reached the doorway and saw President Miller forcibly dragging Yvonne. He took two steps forward, wrapped an arm around Yvonne, and simultaneously sent President Miller sprawling to the ground with a single kick.

President Miller rolled twice on the floor. His anger flared, and he pointed at Wyatt, about to curse him out. But in the next moment, the man in sunglasses went over and snapped the outstretched index finger.

"AAAHHH!" President Miller screamed in agony.

The others froze for a second, then stumbled back in terror.

"Did he touch you?" Wyatt asked, looking down at Yvonne.

Yvonne was actually a bit dazed, so she nodded without much thought.

Wyatt held her tighter and then glanced sideways at the man in sunglasses. The man understood immediately and started pummeling President Miller.

Yvonne flinched in fear, and Wyatt turned her halfway around, shielding her from the sight.

"I-I’m fine. Stop hitting him, please stop."

’I hope this doesn’t turn into something serious!’

Wyatt kissed Yvonne’s forehead, afraid of scaring her further, so he raised a hand to signal the man in sunglasses to stop.

After the man in sunglasses stopped, he uttered a single word, "Scram," and the men scrambled and stumbled away.

Leaning in Wyatt’s arms, Yvonne let out a breath of relief. Then she smelled the strong scent of tobacco and alcohol on him.

"President Shaw, is this your wife?"

Just then, a man walked out. His hair was streaked with gray, yet he addressed Yvonne as if she were a boss’s wife.

Wyatt cupped the back of Yvonne’s head, keeping her from turning to show her face.

"Yeah. Let’s call it a night."

"Why not have your wife come in and sit for a bit?"

"She’s not used to this kind of scene. She’ll pass."

"That’s true. Us stinking old geezers would just overwhelm her with our stench."

Wyatt smiled at the man. "I’ll treat everyone next time."

"Oh, we wouldn’t dare. As long as you grace us with your presence, we’ll treat you."

"We’ll set something up, then."

"Yes, yes, of course."

When Wyatt spoke to the man, his voice was deep and cold, carrying a chilling authority. But once they were in the car, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, his kisses fervent and gentle.

"Don’t come to places like this ever again." The words were domineering, but he said them in an incredibly gentle tone.

Yvonne wrapped her arms around Wyatt’s neck and murmured her agreement.

"Those people..."

"There’s nothing to talk about."

"Oh."

"You were drinking, too?" he asked, pressing his forehead against hers.

"Just one glass," she said softly.

Wyatt glanced at the wound on her forehead and hummed lightly. "Let me have a taste?"

Yvonne blushed and offered her lips. The next moment, he pulled her tight and kissed her deeply.

Wyatt wanted to sober up a bit, so he had the car stop some distance from their gated community and got out with Yvonne. They walked home hand in hand. This stretch of road had few pedestrians and cars; it was very quiet.

"Honey."

"Hm?"

"I hope we can always be like this, that we never change."

Wyatt squeezed her hand. "We definitely will."

"Why?" Yvonne sounded a little disappointed.

Wyatt smiled. "I’ll just love you more and more."

At that, Yvonne smiled again, resting her head on his arm and looking up at him from time to time. The moon, as bright and clear as jade, hung right above Wyatt’s head, but he, bathed in its light, was even more breathtaking.

"Honey, you’re so handsome."

Wyatt nodded. "Of course I know. I look in the mirror every day, after all. But I’m still very happy to hear you say it. It proves my wife has good taste."

Yvonne laughed until she was weak, playfully refusing to walk any further and asking Wyatt to carry her on his back.

So Wyatt hoisted her onto his back and began to walk, slowly, slowly.

When they reached the fork in the road, Yvonne saw the old woman again. Her son was beside her in his wheelchair. Perhaps because of the cold, she had wrapped a scarf around her son, covering his face so that only his eyes were visible.

The old woman was selling oranges and had one crate left.

Yvonne patted Wyatt, asking him to put her down, and then went to buy some oranges.

"Miss, you’re buying more? Did you finish all the apples you bought from me last time?" the old woman asked.

Yvonne smiled. "I gave some away, so there aren’t many left."

She looked at the crate of oranges. There had to be at least twenty or thirty pounds worth.

"Honey, should we buy them?" she asked, turning back to Wyatt.

Wyatt raised an eyebrow. "You want me to carry them back?"

Yvonne nodded. "They’re not heavy."

Wyatt grunted, bent down, and lifted the crate of oranges, hoisting it onto his shoulder.

Yvonne quickly paid and then hurried to catch up with him, crossing the road together.

"Ah, Honey, will the crate ruin your coat?"

"If it gets ruined, it gets ruined."

’That coat seems pretty expensive,’ she thought. ’I remember seeing the brand when I was organizing his closet before.’

"Why don’t you patch it up for me?"

"And have you go to the office with a patch on your coat? Aren’t you afraid your colleagues will laugh at you?"

"Ha, my wife patched it for me. They’d be green with envy."

The two of them talked and laughed as they walked. As Yvonne turned her head to check for cars, she caught a glimpse of a shadow behind them. She quickly looked over and saw that the old woman had actually followed them. In her hand, she was holding a paring knife.

Yvonne jumped in shock. "Ma’am, what... what are you doing?"

Seeing that Yvonne had spotted her, the old woman’s hand, which was holding the paring knife, trembled. "I... I haven’t thanked you yet."

Yvonne watched her suspiciously. "There’s no need to thank me."

"But I must. I know your family doesn’t lack for fruit; you buy mine out of pity for us. You’re a good person, miss. Good people are rewarded."

"Uh, thank you."

Yvonne gave the old woman a nod and then pushed Wyatt to get them moving quickly.

Wyatt glanced back at the old woman a few times and asked, "I’ve never seen them before."

"Yeah, it seems like they only recently started selling fruit here."

After crossing the road, Yvonne looked back and saw the old woman already pushing her son in the wheelchair away, her figure retreating unsteadily.

Back home, Wyatt tried to pull Yvonne into the shower with him. Knowing he was up to no good, Yvonne refused, but he ended up soaking her clothes with the showerhead.

She hit him in anger, and he took the opportunity to grab her, pressing her against the wall.

"Be good. I’ll help you wash up."

Yvonne was stripped of her clothes. Under his teasing gaze, she stood on her tiptoes and playfully bit his chin, and the two of them began fooling around in the bathroom again.

They didn’t end up doing the deed, but they nearly died laughing.

It wasn’t until they were in bed that he truly put his skills to use, loving her fiercely.

In the middle of the night, Yvonne’s phone rang. Wyatt got up, grabbed it from the table, and handed it to her.

Yvonne squinted at the screen. The call was from Joshua Hale.

She had a bad feeling and immediately sat up.

"Joshua, what’s wrong?"

"Yvonne, get to the hospital, quick! Claire tried to kill herself."