the two-faced Adopted Girl Who Melted CEO's Ice-Cold Heart-Chapter 943: Did You Force That Girl to Paint That Picture?

Aurora Coldwell saw Delphine praising her painting, and her eyes lit up with joy. Just as she was about to write something, a middle-aged woman in her forties or fifties walked over, and Aurora’s expression changed instantly, erasing all emotions like a porcelain doll with no expression, no joy or anger.

"Miss, it’s too hot outside. Let me help you back." The middle-aged woman carried an air of authority, her cheeks lined with deep nasolabial folds, clearly not someone easy to deal with. She stepped forward to support Aurora, glanced at the oil painting, and a trace of disdainful smile flashed in her eyes.

Delphine watched Aurora follow the woman away with a somewhat wooden expression, and she became thoughtful. Was there a servant in the Coldwell’s household who could control the mistress so?

Griffith Squire’s talk of repaying kindness seemed to carry some hidden meanings.

As Delphine was about to return the way she came, the woman turned around and loftily said, "Since Miss is Mr. Squire’s guest, it’s better not to wander around the master’s house. The Coldwell mansion isn’t like those small households outside and doesn’t tolerate lack of propriety."

Delphine was momentarily taken aback, seeing Aurora turn back and give her a discreet wink, her lively expression fleeting before turning back into the wooden beauty. Delphine couldn’t help but smile. She was a spirited girl, and as for that wicked woman, Griffith Squire would deal with her.

In all these years, Delphine hadn’t seen anyone throw their weight around on Griffith Squire’s turf and come out unscathed. She felt relieved at once, turned around, and retraced her steps without giving the wicked woman another glance.

When she returned to the main hall, she saw Ignatius Leclair had already come downstairs, frowning and looking around for her. When he saw her, he breathed a sigh of relief, stepped forward and gently embraced her waist, asking in a low voice, "Where did you go?"

"Went to see a half-naked painting." She blinked and said.

Behind her, Griffith Squire, who was lounging and drinking tea with his legs crossed, spewed a mouthful of tea, coughing violently.

The man’s almond-shaped eyes deepened slightly, his handsome face showing a touch of intrigue. He looked at her, questioning silently with his eyes.

"Did you meet Aurora?" Griffith jumped up, looking down at his tea-stained clothes, his extraordinarily handsome face showing a hint of frustration.

This was bloody uncanny; no wonder his eyelids were twitching so intensely yesterday, knowing these two were coming.

"That half-naked painting—did you force the young lady to paint it?" Delphine huffed coldly.

She didn’t notice the handsome, cold man’s face darkening beside her, his eyes narrowing dangerously: "You saw Griffith’s half-naked painting? Go home and wash your eyes."

"Damn, it should be my loss, right? If I weren’t a gentleman, what would you do today?" Griffith sneered, "Stop pretending you’re innocent."

Delphine watched the two about to argue again, helplessly tugging on Ignatius’s arm, saying coquettishly, "I’ll paint for you when we get home."

The man’s expression inexplicably improved, giving Griffith a cold glance, he indifferently said, "There’s no need to contact him if nothing’s up in the future."

"Have a good journey, don’t let me see you off. Delphine, if you ever feel like running away from home again, remember to call me," Griffith said with a wicked smile.

Delphine wanted to say something more but was pulled away by Ignatius, his face dark.

"I haven’t finished talking," Delphine said exasperatedly, not yet having mentioned the wicked woman’s bullying of Aurora.

The man got her into the car, pulled her onto his lap, and said in a low voice, "What’s there to talk about with him? Paint for me when we get home."

The cold air inside the car sent a chill through her, dampening a lot of the fire inside Ignatius Leclair’s heart, though his expression remained somewhat gloomy.

Delphine recalled the casual remarks she made earlier and rubbed her forehead somewhat regretfully.