Mr. Warner, Your Wife is Running Away Again!-Chapter 224: Fiancée

Audrey Sutton giggled to herself and snuggled into her blankets, feeling like this might be her favorite New Year gift ever.

Could it be that he’s slowly accepting her?

Maybe he never thought about liking her before she confessed, but after she did, he’s definitely experiencing some changes in his mind, probably starting to examine whether he could try liking her.

Although he hasn’t explicitly said "I love you" yet, Audrey feels that the current trend is favorable to her.

Speaking of which, his little secretary and female schoolmate seem to have quieted down lately. She had initially thought they’d use the New Year as an excuse to give Shane Warner New Year gifts or something.

As Audrey lay down to play on her phone, she suddenly remembered Shane Warner’s earlier instructions and immediately got up to the bathroom to blow-dry her hair again, completely drying it before climbing back into bed.

She just took out her phone to share some New Year moments with her dorm mates. It was getting late, and soon Audrey couldn’t keep her eyes open, so she obediently set her phone aside, turned off the lights, and went to sleep.

Stephen Sutton drove Rosalind Sherman and her family back home. Rosalind’s parents invited him to stay a while longer; they wanted him to spend the night, but Stephen declined, citing commitments.

Rosalind walked him to the car, standing by the door and waving, "Be careful on the road, and remember to text me when you get home."

Stephen nodded, "It’s cold outside, you should go back inside and get some rest."

"Alright, sorry for taking up your evening."

"No worries, I usually stay up late during holidays."

Rosalind nodded, biting her lip but didn’t turn to go inside, seeming like she had more to say.

Seeing her hesitance, Stephen waited for a few seconds, and when she still said nothing, he remarked, "Then I’ll be off."

"Oh... okay."

Stephen nodded, slowly raising the car window.

As the window rose halfway, Rosalind wished him, "Happy New Year."

Stephen turned back to look at her, smiling and replied softly, "Happy New Year."

A red Porsche was parked by the roadside outside the villa.

Inside the car, Phoebe King sat in the driver’s seat, half-asleep, with the window wide open, letting the cold wind in to help her stay awake.

She had followed Stephen Sutton’s car all the way here and had been waiting outside for over an hour.

Initially, she mused to herself about what Stephen could be up to inside. Was Rosalind inviting Stephen over to "talk" in her room, and then the two began "discussing life and dreams"?

Damn it, she hadn’t caught a wink with this man, and now another woman had beaten her to it?!

No matter how she thought about it, it was awfully vexing.

"Vroom vroom—"

She vaguely heard the sound of an approaching car, snapping Phoebe awake. She swung her feet down, sat upright, looking at car headlights emerging from the large estate not far away.

Upon recognizing it was Stephen’s car, Phoebe hurriedly slipped on her high heels, rushed out of the car, and awaited Stephen’s car as it slowly made its way toward the road she was on. She stood by the roadside and waved to signal him to stop.

Stephen’s car wasn’t speeding; upon seeing a girl wave roadside, he thought she might be in trouble, slowing further to inquire if she needed assistance.

Yet upon realizing it was her, his brows furrowed, he shifted the car toward the center of the road, intending to accelerate and escape.

Phoebe caught onto his intent and, before he could speed off, she positioned herself right in front of his car, forcing Stephen to halt.

Seeing such reckless behavior from Phoebe, Stephen considered that if he had indeed accelerated, she would likely have been lying injured in front of his car by now.

With the doors locked, he merely rolled down the window, speaking to her with a displeased tone, "Are you out of your mind?"

Phoebe forced a smile, leaning down to peer through his only half-opened window, "Get out and chat for a bit, or let me in instead."

"Scram."

Phoebe pouted, "Why are you being so mean, teacher?"

"Who’s your teacher?"

Phoebe chuckled, "You are, you said it yourself."

Stephen couldn’t be bothered with her nonsense, "Let go so I can drive."

Phoebe, "I wish to have a chat, it won’t take much of your time."

Stephen wanted to avoid listening to her babble, so he began rolling up the window. He thought she’d hurriedly retract her hand, but to his surprise, she held on tighter, seemingly using her strength to prevent the glass from rising.

Stephen wasn’t entirely heartless, particularly since she was a young woman, worried he’d indeed crush her hand, he stopped raising the window, feeling a mix of irritation and resignation asking, "What exactly do you want?"

"I knew you still felt pity." She smiled, hand still against his window, extending a finger towards the vacant passenger seat beside him, "It’s really cold outside. Let me in to chat."

Stephen understood this woman wouldn’t rest until she reached her goal. With an expressionless face, he took a breath and reached over to unlock the car door.

The click of the lock made Phoebe smile at once.

Afraid he’d fool her by driving away, she approached the passenger side not via the rear, but instead moved directly toward the front of the car, hugging it closely in case he zoomed off.

As she smoothly pulled the passenger door open and prepared to climb inside, she suddenly thought of something, retracting the foot she was about to step in with, muttering deliberately, "That woman has definitely sat here before."

The disdain in her gestures was palpable. Phoebe then opened the back door and climbed into the back seat, settling in the very center, leaning forward slightly, and asked Stephen through the gap between the front seats, "Is she your date?"

Without a pause, Stephen replied, "Fiancée."

Of course, it was a lie; he was simply trying to make Phoebe give up.

Phoebe, upon hearing those three words, studied his side profile earnestly, yet was unable to discern whether his statement was true.

She merely pursed her lips, "Pretty ordinary, huh. I thought you’d refuse a goddess like me for something more heavenly, turned out pretty standard."

With that, she leaned back against the seat, deliberately put on a dramatic act, waving her hand, "just so-so."

Stephen, "As long as I like her."

Phoebe glanced at the Sherman Family villa outside, puzzled, "What do you like about her? How am I any worse than her?"

Her tone lacked any complaint, as if she were a student humbly seeking knowledge from a teacher over a difficult problem.