My Coldhearted Ex demands a Remarriage by Eva Blackwood

Chapter 370:

“Mr. Norris has gone to the office,” Willow replied, her voice neutral.

Carrie, clad in a silk camisole nightgown, looked both elegant and subtly alluring. Willow muttered quietly under her breath as she walked away, calling Carrie a “flirt.” She blamed Carrie for what had happened the night before when Kristopher had nearly twisted her son’s arm. Willow believed that if Carrie hadn’t been so seductive around men, her son wouldn’t have felt bold enough to bother her.

Unaware of Willow’s bitterness, Carrie checked the time. It was only 10 a.m., and with no filming scheduled for the day, she decided to surprise Kristopher with lunch at his office. This would be her first time doing so.

Previously, when Kristopher had not publicly acknowledged their marriage, it had sometimes made her feel insecure. She worried that appearing uninvited at his office might irritate him, suggesting she was overly eager to assert her status as Mrs. Norris.

But now, after he had declared their relationship on a reality show watched by millions, it seemed perfectly acceptable for her to bring him lunch. A flutter of newlywed excitement stirred within her. With that thought, she told Willow, “You don’t need to prepare lunch for me today. I won’t be home.”

“Mrs. Norris, where

I really

but managed a smile. “Mrs. Norris, I only ask in case Mr. Norris inquires later,

doesn’t control my freedom. Whether or not I

v els .com is packed with

at a loss for words. She harbored a deep disdain for Carrie; her alluring appearance and piercingly sharp tongue were too much for her to

to her bedroom, picked up her phone, and saw a message from Kristopher: “I’m at the office taking care of some things. You can keep sleeping.” The message included a picture of his office. It was the first time he had voluntarily shared his location with her, and she lay back on the bed, a smile breaking through as she buried her face in the pillow, overwhelmed by a fleeting rush of joy. Perhaps love had its

thermos lunchbox, making her way directly to Kristopher’s private elevator. She knew the security code for his private elevator. Just as she lifted her hand to press the button, another hand, decorated with an

are not allowed here,” the owner of the hand said coldly,

a woman with soft makeup. Based on