Facade of Love

Chapter 63 Mom Wants Us to Get a Divorce

If possible, my mother probably never wanted to see these two again in her lifetime.

Hearing what I said, Idris pursed his l*ps and began to speak. “On the day of the funeral…”

“Ahhh!” Suddenly, a scream echoed from upstairs.

Without finishing his sentence, Idris dashed upstairs.

I stood there, unable to help but smile bitterly. Idris‘ reactions were extremely attuned to Moore’s needs.

Suppressing the bitterness in my heart, I followed upstairs. On the corridor, Moore was screaming in Idris‘ arms, her voice sounding panicked, “Iddy, there’s a thief in the house!”

The thief she was referring to was, of course, Maxwell, who was wearing only a towel and had most of his b*dy exposed. Startled by her exaggerated reaction, he opened his mouth awkwardly, attempting to explain.

Seeing me behind them, he came over to me, his face flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry, I just wanted to ask if you had a hairdryer. I didn’t expect other people to be in the house.”

face. I did not say much except to Maxwell. “We do.

looked at Moore leaning on Idris, then at Idris‘ stern face, and then at me. He twitched the

gave him a look and said, “Go dry

back to look at Idris and said, “Mr. Young, if I say that the reason I’m bathing here and un–dressed like this is

believe me?”

the murderous intent in his gloomy gaze was enough to show he

realized his explanation was futile. He shrugged and

bedroom, Moore reluctantly stood up straight from Idris‘ arms and looked at me, saying, “Yvette, how can you just bring a man home like that? Don’t you have

lying in my man’s arms. I still fall short when compared to you. Also, Mr. Sanchez has a great physique. If you want to look, you can do so openly. There’s no need to hide in your Iddy’s

nonsense!” Upon being exposed, Moore was so agitated she almost

ignored her and went

expression cold, and quickly blocked my path, asking, “Why did you bring Maxwell Sanchez back to the

scoffed. “This is my house. Do I need to report to you whom

a man home

It was my mother, carrying a cardboard box. She entered the hall, glaring at Moore with suppressed anger. “Who let you in?

return, Moore’s face softened somewhat, and she said to my mother, “Mom, where’d you