Love On Ice: Don’t Leave Me, My Charming Liar

Chapter 38: Their initial strategy had been to extract an apology from Nyla, but instead, they were met with an overwhelming setback. It was a pill too bitter for anyone to swallow. "Mom, I don't want to leave the country. Please, convince Grandpa to let me stay," Trevor implored, his grip on Florence's arm betraying his desperation. With a thoughtful frown, Florence suddenly seemed struck by an idea and reassured him with a pat on the hand. "Think of it as a short vacation. Once we retrieve the evidence from Nyla, I'll covertly organize your return.

With the evidence in our possession, she won't have a leg to stand on. We just need to bide our time; there will be ample opportunity to address this issue later." Hope flickered in Trevor's eyes, instantly erasing his previous reluctance. "You always know best, Mom! I've suffered so much because of her. You've got to devise a strategy so I can sleep with her!" In a playful yet exasperated gesture, Florence tapped his forehead. "Would you try to restrain yourself for once? Your lack of discipline is precisely why we're in this predicament!" "Mom, it wasn't my fault.

She seduced me first, and I fell into her trap," he said, feeling unjustly accused. Florence exhaled deeply, choosing not to scold him further. "Just endure for now. She'll receive her punishment soon enough. Then, you'll be free to handle her as you see fit." "Thanks, Mom," Trevor muttered, relieved. In Ulares' old quarter, the streets buzzed with more vigor than the city center, even in the brisk winter. Locals huddled around small stoves, exchanging stories and savoring the warmth.

Nyla parked her car and strolled into a neighborhood where the buildings wore the patina of time, their once-white walls now tinged yellow, ivy creeping over them. мσяє υρ∂αтєѕ ιи gαℓиσνєℓѕ.¢σм She navigated through the neighborhood until she arrived at her intended address. Upon her knock, a voice from within asked, "Who's there?" "It's Nyla," she responded. The door swung open to reveal Claudine, who looked frail, possibly from prolonged illness; her presence was marked by a medicinal odor. Nyla's heart sank at the sight of Claudine's gruesome paleness.

"Claudine," Nyla said, her tone carrying a mix of urgency and relief. "Something's wrong, isn't it? Why the sudden call, Nyla? Have those people caused you trouble again?" Claudine inquired, her voice soft and soothing. She pulled Nyla swiftly inside, casting wary glances outside before securing the door meticulously. As Nyla observed the apartment, she noted its modest size but absolute order-two bedrooms and a living room arranged by Claudine to exude warmth and comfort. It was Nyla who had chosen this spot for Claudine, a quiet haven for her to heal.

Claudine noticed Nyla's reticence and felt a stir of concern. "Are things rough with your mother again? Remember, my door is always open for you." Claudine was somewhat aware of Vicki's actions but chose not to criticize. Managing life with a dependent child and a sick family member while doing everything she could to make her son's prison life easier was no small feat. . . .