My Wife is a Hidden Big Shot-Chapter 44 - 43: Stella Has No Time

The others at the table glanced at Aurora Sinclair but said nothing.

To show off Aurora Sinclair’s achievements, Master Sinclair had also invited the heads of the branch families, who held considerable sway in the Sinclair Family’s affairs.

Master Sinclair’s expression softened at her words. "Stella, why don’t you teach your sister for a while..."

"Dad, Stella doesn’t have time! She’s about to compete in the National Youth Calligraphy and Painting Competition! It’s a very prestigious competition for the Calligraphy Association. If she places well, Stella’s membership Level could even go up."

Hailey Gordon cut Master Sinclair off before he could finish. Her tone was firm, clearly displeased with his blatant favoritism toward Aurora Sinclair.

Seeing Master Sinclair’s expression darken again, Stella Sinclair quickly interjected, "Grandpa, Mom’s just a bit blunt. Please don’t be angry! I am rather busy lately, but of course, I should help my sister. How about this? I can teach her traditional Chinese painting every night after nine."

Master Sinclair hesitated when he heard this.

He wanted Stella to teach Aurora, but the thought of her working after nine o’clock at night made him worry she’d be overworked.

"Stella, if you’re too busy, then never mind. See if there are any tutors at the Calligraphy Association who could come teach Aurora. The fee isn’t an issue."

Stella Sinclair looked troubled. "Grandpa, it’s difficult to hire one of the Association’s masters, but a regular member of the Calligraphy Association shouldn’t be a problem..."

Master Sinclair understood that true masters were difficult to hire, so he settled. "A member is fine, then. Find someone patient, someone who can actually teach..."

Just then, Aurora Sinclair suddenly spoke up. "There’s no need to hire anyone..."

Pfft—

Sue Quinn let out a reflexive sneer.

She was immediately met with intensely stern glares from Master Sinclair and Butler Sinclair, and she quickly lowered her head, schooling her features.

Master Sinclair ignored her, then turned to Aurora Sinclair and said kindly, "Aurora, don’t worry about the art school entrance exam. Stella will find you a good teacher. Just do as they say when the time comes..."

Aurora Sinclair looked at Master Sinclair for a moment before nodding.

After the dinner, Stella Sinclair’s standing in the Sinclair Family rose even higher.

***

「Early the next morning.」

The doorbell at Tanner Sinclair’s house rang as insistently as an alarm clock.

Butler Sinclair immediately went to open the door, only to see Jean Quincy dart inside, a large bag slung over her back.

"Butler Sinclair, is Aurora awake yet?"

Before he could even answer, she was already bolting for the stairs.

Butler Sinclair shook his head, exasperated. ’Miss Jean is as impetuous as ever.’

"Aurora—wake up, wake up—"

She pounded on the door several times before it finally opened.

"Aurora, come on, I’ll do your makeup! We’re going to see our idol!" Jean Quincy said, pulling Aurora Sinclair’s arm and bustling into the room.

’Huh? Why is her arm so soft today?’

Jean Quincy squeezed her arm. A flicker of confusion crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed it.

Aurora Sinclair glanced back at the dark heap by the foot of the bed, her eyes glinting for a second.

"Aurora, your skin is amazing! You don’t even need foundation. I’ll just put some lip gloss on you!"

"Aurora, do you have any other clothes? We’re meeting our idol today, you can’t wear a tracksuit..."

With that, Jean Quincy immediately got up and went to open the wardrobe by the bed. "Whoa—what’s this?"

Before Jean could touch it, Aurora Sinclair snatched the thing off the floor and dashed into the bathroom.

Jean Quincy shot her a confused glance but didn’t press, quickly opening the wardrobe to find her an outfit.

The wardrobe was filled with tracksuits in every color imaginable, all bought for Aurora Sinclair by people Master Sinclair had sent. There were also one or two lonely-looking dresses.

"See? You have dresses! Why don’t you ever wear them?" Jean Quincy’s eyes lit up as she immediately pulled out the two dresses.

She finally settled on a denim slip dress to be worn over a small white t-shirt.

"Aurora, hurry up and change—"

Aurora Sinclair was shoved into the bathroom, clutching the dress that had been forced into her arms.

She glanced at the thin armor and weighted vest on the floor, then set the clothes aside.

She quickly put the thin armor back on.

Then she tried to pull on the denim dress...

All that could be heard was a loud—RIP!

Aurora Sinclair changed back into her tracksuit and walked out of the bathroom, holding the ruined denim dress with a deadpan expression.

"Aurora, is the quality of this dress really that bad?" Jean Quincy asked incredulously, taking the dress and examining it. The seams along the hem were completely ripped.

Aurora Sinclair put on an innocent expression and nodded guiltily.

’I really didn’t even pull hard!’

"Ah! We’re running out of time! Let’s just go. I’ll take you to buy some new dresses another day!"

The two of them rushed and finally made it to the address Darius Lynch had given them just in time for their appointment: Kingsford Television Station.

Just inside the entrance to the station, Jean Quincy spotted Darius Lynch’s assistant, Lowell, and quickly pulled Aurora Sinclair into a jog to catch up to him.

Darius Lynch was so famous that even the members of his entourage were frequently seen in the media.

"Lowell, I’m Jean Quincy, and this is my cousin..."

Lowell glanced cautiously behind them. "Did you bring it?"

"We did." Jean Quincy patted the bag on her back.

"Follow me..."

Meanwhile, Darius Lynch received a text from Lowell.

He stood up, his face lighting up. "Excellent! They’re here..."

His manager, Byron Lawson, rolled his eyes. "Are you that sure they have a Craftsman piece? What if it’s just a photoshopped image to lure you in and take advantage of you?"

"It has to be real. I’ve never seen such an exquisite jewelry box!" Darius Lynch insisted, pulling out his phone to show him the photo again.

But over the years, Byron Lawson had dealt with countless stalker fans of Darius Lynch. Their methods were endless and nearly impossible to guard against.

If the Morgan Family hadn’t assigned him bodyguards with high Combat Power, Darius Lynch’s private life would have been completely exposed long ago.

"Let’s hope you’re right."

Just then, a knock came from the door. It was the assistant. "Lawson, I’ve brought them."

Byron Lawson glanced at the eager Darius Lynch, then pointed to a smaller door in the back of the room. "Let them in," he said in a low voice.