Chapter 143

In the morning, sunshine poured through the windows.

The woman on the bed slowly opened her eyes, her fair face showing a

healthy glow.

What came to her sight first was Franklin's handsome face. He had

gotten up and was watching her from one side of the bed.

He looked possessive, even a bit aggressive as if he wanted to

engrave her in his mind.

"Ready to get up?" he asked in a hoarse and deep voice.

"Yeah," Sylvia answered blandly.

“I'm going to fly the plane today, love." He looked at her with some kind

of craving, "Come with me?"

He loved seeing her when he was on the plane.

"Don't push me, Franklin." Sylvia sat up and casually tucked a wisp of

her loosened hair behind her ear. For Franklin, it was an attractive

move.

The morning in the Townyer Villa seemed a bit weird.

Tiffany came early in the morning.

She directly walked into the kitchen and started making coffee and

sandwiches.

It seemed she was making breakfast for Franklin. Rock watched her

from behind, not daring to interrupt her.

She was not as friendly as Mrs. Maskelyne.

In the dining room, Franklin was browsing through newspapers. A

simple breakfast was ready on the table, black coffee, and sandwiches.

Rock glanced at it and sneered.

Miss Evans was so headstrong. She persisted in making breakfast for

Master Franklin.

Though Master Franklin's breakfast seemed simple, what she didn't

know was that only Mrs. Maskelyne could make it the way he liked, no

matter whether it was the thickness of the ham, the omelets, or the

toast.

Indeed, it was a sandwich on the delicate plate, but there was a small

pile of corn kernels and shredded carrot, which by the way was sliced

messily. It looked alright from a certain distance, but if it was looked at

closer, it was...not good.

Rock could figure out by his toes that master was not going to eat it.

Franklin laid down the newspaper and sipped the coffee, "Who made

this?"

The water temperature was different, and therefore the smell was

different. It tasted much worse.

It couldn't have been made by Sylvia.

What she made was different.

As his eyes grew colder, all the servants were scared.

"Frank, I also made some cookies. Would you like to have a try?"

Despite her physical pain, Tiffany walked to the dining table with a tray

in her hand.

She didn't notice the change in the atmosphere, including the tension in

the air.

"Why are you in my house? Who consented? And who let you make

breakfast in my kitchen?" There was a strong discontent in his cold

voice.

His sullen expression made the smile on Tiffany's face freeze. Was he

unhappy? After receiving the letter from Franklin early in the morning,

she hurried here especially to make him breakfast, and he was

unhappy about that.

"Franklin, you sent me a letter, telling me to make you breakfast, didn't

you? You gave me the address..." Faced with a volley of questions

from him, she could barely breathe.

"Tiffany, you should be clear about your position. I never asked anyone

to send you a letter, let alone ask you to come to my place. Stop doing

silly things." He said in a harsh voice. For him, Tiffany was an irksome

and calculating woman.

Did she think he would be impressed by it?

"Don't say that, Franklin. I love you with all my heart.” Tiffany, who had

been busy for the whole morning but got nothing in return except his

cold rejection, could not help feeling grieved and cried. Large drops of

tears fell down her face.

She took out a letter from her purse, showing it to Franklin, “You can

read the letter yourself."

"Of course, you are fully prepared.” The corner of Franklin's corner

curved up ironically, "Your tears don't mean anything to me. Don't

presume that I would be touched by them."

Tiffany was insanely furious.

Shame flooded through her. She stood by the dining table, holding the

letter.

If the letter was not from Franklin, who was it from? To make Franklin

hate her more?

"Rock, only my wife deserves to stay here. Don't let another woman

show up in my house and don't let unauthorized people break this rule.”

Franklin glanced at Rock.

Rock had been working for him for years, so he would not give Rock a

hard time.

But what happened today greatly disappointed him.

She was screwed by so many people last night, and now she came to

seek sympathy by pretending that she was the miserable one. What

was wrong with her?

Did she take herself as the mistress of this house?

That was ridiculous.

When Sylvia was going downstairs, she caught sight of Tiffany, who

was crying desolately.

She lifted an eyebrow and peeked at Franklin, who was sitting up

straight.

As for the food on the table, he did not touch any of them.

"Since someone has made you breakfast, I'm going to leave.” There

was something chilly in her voice.

Hearing the voice, Tiffany raised her head instantly and directly looked

into Sylvia's eyes. Though without makeup, she looked bright and

dainty. Her tall figure and shaped body were apparent even though she

was only wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans.

"Why are you here?" she screamed.

How come it was Sylvia again?

Sylvia's eyes met Tiffany's accidentally.

If Tiffany's gaze could Kill, Sylvia did not doubt she would have been

killed.

The deep resentment and hatred in Tiffany's eyes were so strong.

"You are here as well. Is there any particular reason that I can't be

here?" Sylvia sneered. She was about to ignore Tiffany and leave.

But Franklin was even quicker.

Sylvia had no idea when he had left the dining table. When she realized

it, he had reached out his hands and clutched her wrist, “I haven't had

breakfast yet."

"Someone has made it for you,” she answered in a bland tone.

"But I want to eat what you make." He looked down at her, "Yours is

tastier.”

"After seeing some trash early in the morning, my good mood is

spoiled.” She shook off his hands and headed to the door.

He strode to keep up with her.

Tiffany watched them leave unwillingly. Just as she was about to follow

them, Rock stopped her.

He said with a stern face, "Miss Evans, please don't make things hard

for me. Master Franklin has made it clear that he doesn't want you

here."

Tiffany claimed to be the mistress of this house and insisted on going to

the kitchen, which greatly embarrassed him.

Had he not been clear of Franklin's mind, he would have evicted her

already.

Now that Franklin had made it clear that there was only Sylvia

deserved to be the mistress of the house, he wouldn't hesitate

anymore.

Tiffany glanced at him impatiently. "You old idiot. When I become Mrs.

Maskelyne, you will be the first to be kicked out by me."

Franklin went out and saw Sylvia walking in front of him with quick

steps.

He watched her slim figure from behind with a somewhat hideous face.

It was like a hunter who was about to get his quarry.

He was only a few steps away from her.

Now, Sylvia's only wish was to leave the house and get a taxi.

Franklin just showed up in her life like a phantom and stirred her quiet

and cozy life.

It sucked.

Taking the plane he flew was out of the problem.

Suddenly, a strong hand gripped her wrist.

Sylvia frowned and tried to get rid of him.

"Where are you going?" His voice was cold, but elegant, just like an

animal waiting to catch his prey.

Sylvia glared at the big figure in front of her, "It's none of your

business."

He sounded as elegant as ever, "Don't mess around, sweetie.”

"What the fuck do you want? Franklin?" Sylvia stared at him angrily.

Her patience was running out.

"All this time, all I wanted to fuck is you, don't you know that?" he

smiled suddenly. His lowered voice came into Sylvia's ears.

She could almost feel his chest vibrating.

“You are crazy." Sylvia could not help kicking him.

But her leg was caught by his large, firm hand. Before she could realize

it, he had laid his hand on her bare ankle.

The heat from his hand evoked a sense of quivering excitement in her.

Franklin was rather tall and handsome, which attracted several girls

who were walking by.

Some of them wanted to take pictures but were stopped by his

intimidating eyes.

He was standing there under the sunlight, looking so perfect as if he

was carefully made by god.