Chapter 1438: Chapter 1438

Chapter 1438:

“Count Harlee’s Secret Identities.”

Every single one had climbed to the top of the trending charts. Clint pocketed his phone and said, “No money.”

He then exited the gaming room without turning back.

Just then, Clint bumped into Rhys, who looked like he’d just come back from a long journey.

“Clint,” Rhys greeted him, his voice low, before rushing toward the gaming room.

Clint felt he had made a wise choice by not agreeing to Harlee’s request. Otherwise, he would have wasted his money—Rhys was already on it, moving as if he’d flown on the wings of the news.

Back in the gaming room, Harlee heard Rhys enter and immediately turned, her voice dripping with sweetness.

“Honey, I’m craving something sweet.”

Rhys’ irritation melted away at her request. What choice did he have? He had pampered her too much to deny her anything.

After a leisurely stroll and a satisfying treat, Harlee, nestled against Rhys, patted her belly.

“Rhys, you’re spoiling the baby. Such a sleepyhead!”

Rhys chuckled. He wasn’t sure if it was the pregnancy hormones or if Harlee had always been this adorable. The Harlee who once rarely smiled had now turned into an absolute sweetheart.

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Harlee’s hand rested on his chest.

“It’s not me who’s tired. It’s this little one.”

She wasn’t that weak! When she was on a mission, sleep was the last thing on her mind.

Rhys smiled and kissed her forehead softly.

“Yes, it’s the baby’s fault. You’re just forced to rest.”

Then, Harlee sank into her long-overdue, late afternoon nap.

Since her return to the Sanderson family estate, dreams of her past had been scarce. But this time, during her brief hour of rest, the past unfurled in her mind once more. Though it lasted only an hour, the dream stretched out endlessly, replaying her life’s tapestry with intense clarity.

She revisited many moments with the Gill family, a montage of pain, sorrow, and eventual redemption. The visions of Nola, from their first meeting to their bitter parting, flitted through her dream in disjointed flashes, lacking any discernible order—like snippets from various films crudely stitched together.

Harlee was aware she was dreaming, yet breaking free from its grasp proved futile. It wasn’t until she had relived every moment tied to Nola that she awoke abruptly.

As Harlee’s eyes flickered open, the vivid images from her dream dissolved slowly, leaving behind only the lingering visage and venomous voice of Nola.

“Harlee, I hate you…”

The voice seemed strangely unacquainted.

Upon waking, Harlee’s memory of the dream evaporated, yet the remnants of Nola’s bitter words clung to her.

“Harlee, I hate you…”

Harlee couldn’t get it. Why would Nola harbor such animosity?

A vague sense of having misplaced a crucial piece of the puzzle gnawed at Harlee—a secret shared solely among her, Nola, and Tonya. When Rhys entered, he found Harlee sitting blankly on the bed, her forehead slick with sweat, stray locks of hair clinging to her damp skin. She appeared unrested, as if she had been wrestling with forgotten specters rather than sleeping.

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