Cynthia gazed at her quietly, the corners of her mouth curving into a faint smile. It wasn't cold, but it was distant.
"Miss Lucca, don't you think this place is more suited for me?"
Lucca noticed the distance in her gaze but still smiled.
"Miss Lancaster, you're joking. After all, you're Vice President Wilson's wife! How could you say this place suits you?"
The smile on Cynthia's face grew wider, the mockery in her expression more pronounced.
"Sometimes, a wife is just a decoration, and the women outside are the real treasures."
Indeed, she saw a glint of pride and happiness flash in Lucca's eyes. It was clear that she was a woman—one deeply in love—so much so that she didn't even notice Cynthia's sarcasm.
The car stopped in front of an antique-style tea house. As soon as the car came to a halt, Cynthia quickly jumped out, almost as if fleeing. She didn't want to stay another second with that woman. The invisible, heavy scheming emanating from her made Cynthia feel chilled.
