Secrets Of The Neglected Wife: When Her True Colors Shine

Chapter 183: Allison remained still, listening as the silence on the other end of the phone stretched awkwardly before breaking.

Hoyts stirring up trouble again.

Looks like hes gearing up to pull the same stunt as last time with that aphrodisiac probably planning to shove some woman into your bed.

Kellans expression turned to ice.

Of course he is.

The guys always up to something underhanded.

The never-ending web of schemes and manipulations from these pests grated on his nerves.

His voice dropped, thick with irritation.

If hes so set on ruining my name, he can be the first to pay the price.

Get some reporters there gossip journalists love a scandal.

Lets make sure his dirty laundry gets a proper airing.

After all, hes desperate to be acknowledged as a real Lloyd, right? Lets show the world what that looks like.

Kellans tone sharpened with a cruel edge.

He wants attention? Ill give it to him.

Got it, came the subordinates quick response, already knowing exactly how to proceed with Kellans coldly efficient plan.

The call ended abruptly, and the room plunged into an uncomfortable silence.

his reflection in the mirror,

man was as predictable as ever, not even bothering to switch up his

trick twice? In

time, a thousand things competed for his attention, leaving him

since Allison had stepped into his life, a strange calm had settled

thought that flickered through his mind was of that beautiful yet

name, the syllables

blissfully unaware of Kellans

only make out the silhouette of him rising slowly, heading toward

the smooth

noticed something felt amiss

and the edges of his eyes bore an unusual redness, as if shadows had taken

frown creased her

in her mind, looking less like a mere toy and more like a bizarre artifact, especially

it was the image of Allisons cold, unyielding face that replayed over

really are a puzzle wrapped in an enigma, he muttered under his breath, his body

breeze, each strand tugging at the strings of his heart like a marionette

those striking red-bottomed high heels she wore in the Burned Islands they lingered in his thoughts, a fantasy of her stepping on him with those slender heels,

fateful night on the yacht, they were intertwined in

low, controlled gasp, tinged with urgency, slipped

him that Allison

had initially wanted to gather more clues but was left

upon her that Kellan was merely

women; instead, he

understood such things werent

an unusual wave of awkwardness and

felt wrong enough; watching

the