Quiana Sutton felt like she was the center of attention, and the crowd around her was growing. Realizing her identity might have been recognized, she turned decisively and left, returning to the car.
Durrell Landon finished chatting briefly with Professor Leaf after retrieving the painting and quickly left the office.
As he walked along the road, he heard whispers from several students.
"Was the girl leaning on the stone bridge just now really Quiana Sutton?"
"She didn't look fake."
"Why do you think she's visiting our school?"
"Just sightseeing, what else? She debuted at eighteen, probably never went to college."
"But with looks like hers, does it even matter if she went to college? Honestly, if she were willing to marry me, I'd be willing to spend everything I have."
"You should stop dreaming. Celebrities like her either get kept or marry into wealth; you have no chance."
"A man's got to have dreams; otherwise, what's the difference between him and a salted fish?"
"..."
…
Durrell listened to those discussions, his obsidian eyes dark and intense like unmixed ink, cold and penetrating.
She truly had a knack for it. Just by casually strolling around Capital University, she could stir up such widespread discussion.
Dreaming of marrying Quiana Sutton, what a fantasy. Quiana is his wife; as long as they are not divorced, no one ever stands a chance.
Durrell returned to the car with a grim face, seeing Quiana still turned to the side, ignoring him. Without thinking, he pulled her into his arms, his cool, large hand caressing her cheek with an inexplicable anger in his tone:
"Didn't I tell you to stay put in the car? Why did you get out?"
On a normal day, she would have had the mood to argue with him for a bit, but today she did not want to quarrel. In a detached tone, she explained:
"It was too boring in the car, I just wanted to stretch my legs."
"Besides, if you didn't want me at Capital University, why insist on bringing me here?"
Suddenly, Durrell felt a hint of defeat. He knew she had always been cold and distant towards him. In the past, he watched with a detached curiosity, but at some point, his own heart had stopped stirring like it used to. Just now, he felt an unexplainable panic.
As Durrell was distracted, Quiana slipped out of his arms; she had only one purpose today.
"The painting."
With her gone, he felt a tint of emptiness; he instinctively knew this was not good. His attention to her had exceeded the appropriate bounds.
He closed his eyes; he was a man without a path back. Since Quiana felt nothing for him, why should he be persistent?
When he opened his eyes again, the unsteadiness was gone, replaced entirely by a detachment as cold as the Arctic.
His right hand casually propping his chin, he asked with a languid gaze:
"Do you really like this painting?"
Quiana nodded; the painting held special meaning for her.
Instead of handing it to her, Durrell leisurely stored it away.
"I'll give it to you when I'm in a good mood."
Quiana: "???"
Her gaze turned frosty: "Would the imperious Master Landon go back on his word?"
A hint of amusement appeared in Durrell's apathetic eyes:
"I'm not known for keeping promises."
"But if you're willing to call me 'husband,' I might just give it to you."
Clearly, she was not inclined to do so.
Durrell had anticipated this outcome. His eyes darkened slightly, but he said nothing more.
The two didn't say another word; silence enveloped the car.
The driver felt the hairs on his body stand on end, cautiously ensuring he didn't make the slightest mistake throughout the journey.
On the way back to the Imperial View Manor, they passed by the apartment where she and Durrell once lived. She spoke up: "Stop the car."
"I'll stay in the apartment for the time being, not the Imperial View Manor."
Durrell didn't stop her: "Suit yourself."
…
Returning to the apartment, she saw the clothes, jewelry, and bags in the closet were still untouched, making her even more irritable.
She spent the entire afternoon throwing everything into the trash.
Looking at the now empty wardrobe and room, she felt an indescribable sense of relief, as if discarding those things could rid her of thoughts she shouldn't have.
The clothes, bags, and jewelry were purchased by Durrell according to Evelyn Windsor's tastes, but the wine in the cabinet was bought according to her own preferences.
She went to the wine cabinet, picked out a bottle of red wine, and poured herself a full glass.
The dim light casting on the glass caused the red liquid to imprint on her eyes like a flame about to burn out.
Just then, her phone rang a few times. Seeing the caller ID, her eyes filled with impatience.
Like usual, she directly hung up, but the person was unusually persistent this time, calling several times with a seemingly aggressive intent to come for her phone if she didn't answer.
Not wanting too many entanglements with this person, she reluctantly picked up the call, speaking coldly: "What is it?"
The other party seemed accustomed to her coldness, showing no particular displeasure, and leisurely spoke:
"The Raven looked into you, did you know?"
The Raven looked into her?
Quiana was momentarily stunned but quickly adopted an indifferent attitude:
"You built my profile, if The Raven really discovered something, would you be in the mood to call me?"
The person on the other end gave a long sigh: "Quiana, why must you always speak to me so sharply? You, better than anyone, know that in this world, I'm the only one who would never harm you."
"Shut up!"
Quiana wasn't interested in his nonsense, "You should save this concern for Charlotte Sutton; I don't need it."
There was a pause on the other end of the line before he finally said:
"I'll come to see you in a while."
Before the words were fully spoken, she hung up the phone.
Why must they all press upon her? She massaged her temples, downing the wine in one go.
In places even she hadn't noticed, cracks began to form inside her, and a sliver of darkness seeped through them.
Nathan Firth said The Raven looked into her?
She sneered, anyone audacious enough to investigate her would pay the price.
She pulled out her computer, figuring out how to infiltrate The Raven's headquarters.
At this moment.
The Raven headquarters.
In the main control room, the person in charge saw the words "Someone is intruding" on the computer screen and became nervous, quickly leading a counterattack.
After a fierce battle, they narrowly won, almost having their data copied. He hurriedly reported the incident to Charles Foote.
"Knight Tamworth, someone just intruded into the headquarters' computer."
Busy restoring surveillance footage, Charles Foote furrowed his brow: "Did you pinpoint their location?"
"The intruder is sharp, we only traced them to the Capital City."
Durrell's car accident was no accident, now there's someone who can infiltrate The Raven's headquarters; it seems things in the Capital City are about to become tumultuous.
He called Durrell Landon, relaying the incident to him.
Durrell simply murmured an acknowledgment, indicating he understood.