Chapter 272: Chapter 282: Replenishing the Wife’s Right to Privacy

Winnie Winslow chickened out. "..."

’Being a mom can wait. I have to at least become Teacher Winslow first.’

’Teacher Winslow first, Mom Winslow second.’

Seeing her silence, Mortimer read her mind. "Teacher Winslow first, Mom Winslow second?"

Holly Winslow had said this before.

Holly Winslow: "..."

She flew into a flustered rage. "Can you please stop guessing what I’m thinking? Lawyer Quincy, you’re seriously violating my right to privacy!"

"Why didn’t you say that when we were taking our clothes off?" Mortimer placed a piece of meat on her plate, teasing, "Here, let’s patch up my darling’s right to privacy."

Holly Winslow: "..."

’Patch my ass, you bastard.’

After dinner, it was already getting late. Mortimer took a taxi to the city to catch his flight.

After seeing "Miles Holloway" off, Holly suddenly felt like something was missing. She then signed up for a calligraphy class—an intensive course that cost 2,400 yuan a month.

Holly paid for two months and began her summer class schedule. She had learned some calligraphy in her past life, so picking it up again in this one was easy.

During the first class, the calligraphy teacher even praised her handwriting.

Meanwhile, Mortimer’s negotiations had dragged on for five or six days without any progress. The other party wanted to maximize their own profits, but that would shrink his company’s earnings, a deal they would obviously never accept.

The two sides were in constant discussion, endlessly revising proposals and deliberating.

As a result, the two hadn’t been in contact for five or six days. Or rather, they hadn’t spoken on the phone.

Mortimer would usually get back to his hotel around ten o’clock, by which time Holly was already asleep.

In the morning, he would head to the other company at nine, while Holly left for her class at seven. Their schedules were completely out of sync.

A few days without contact didn’t seem like a big deal to the couple, but Wyatt Winslow thought it was.

’He’d never seen them go a single day without talking. When they were students, they called each other every weekend.’

That day after dinner, Wyatt Winslow put down his newspaper and glanced at his daughter, who was practicing her calligraphy. He pushed up his glasses and suddenly asked, "Did you two have a fight?"

Holly Winslow turned to look at him. "Huh?"

The next second, she realized who he was talking about—Mortimer.

She shook her head seriously. "Me and Mortimer? No, Dad. This is perfectly normal. Before, Mortimer went a whole month..."

Ahem, she had almost mentioned her past life. "Back when Mortimer and I were students, we’d go a long time without talking, too."

Wyatt Winslow pressed his lips together again. "If something’s wrong, you should tell me."

His tone clearly implied he thought she was hiding something from him.

Holly didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. A few years ago, she and Mortimer had to make their phone calls in secret, and it gave Wyatt a headache every time. He’d wanted nothing more than to confiscate her phone.

Now that they weren’t calling, he was starting to worry again, concerned they might have had a fight.

She grinned and joked, "Dad, if you worry too much, you won’t get fat."

She paused, studying Wyatt carefully. Perhaps because he was more at ease these days, his face had a healthier color, and his features seemed much softer.

She added, "But I think you’ve put on a little weight recently, Dad. I have too. It seems Aunt Roland’s cooking is really nourishing."

Robin Roland had probably taken a short-term job here to take care of Yara. She handed out flyers for eighty yuan a day and could go home as soon as she was done.

So her work schedule was quite flexible.

When she delivered lunch to Yara, she would also bring a portion for Wyatt, and then another for Holly.

Holly had refused a few times, but Robin always smiled and said it was no trouble to cook a little extra. In the end, Holly just gave her money for groceries.

The two families would even occasionally get together for dinner in the evening.

Wyatt grunted in acknowledgment, then repeated his question, "Did you two have a fight?"

"Dad, no. He’s on a business trip negotiating a deal. The other company won’t sign, so they’re constantly revising the proposal and working late."

Holly added with a smile, "He should be back for the full-moon celebration for Mr. Webb’s baby on the eighteenth."

Seeing that she didn’t seem to be lying, Wyatt didn’t press the matter further. "Alright."

He then got up, went to the kitchen to warm up some milk, and placed it in front of Holly. Without a word, he sat back down on the sofa and picked up his newspaper again.

Keeping her company while she practiced her calligraphy.

Holly took a sip of the warm milk and grinned, laying it on thick. "Dads are the best in the world. A kid with a dad is a treasured thing."

Wyatt didn’t know how to respond to her sweet words, so, as usual, he didn’t.

She had just been talking about Mortimer, and right on cue, he called.

Holly freed one hand to answer the phone. Before she could speak, a cacophony of noise burst from the earpiece. She quickly turned the volume down. "Hello?"

"Darling." The noisy background quieted down a bit, followed by the sound of a door closing.

Holly didn’t even have to ask to know where he was. He was probably in the restroom of some entertainment venue.

This strange habit was probably unique to her husband.

The reason she knew was because Zeke Zane had once called her up and said, "Sis, is your husband constipated or something? Every time we have to drink, he runs to the bathroom and only comes out when it’s over."

After these social events, Mortimer would often be the one to take Zeke home. Every time, Anna Willow would see that Mortimer was perfectly fine, while Zeke was dead drunk.

And she would chew Zeke out after he sobered up.

Thinking of this, she couldn’t help but chuckle. Her husband had certainly pulled a lot of shady stunts. She teased, "Smell good in there?"

"It’s bearable."

Mortimer then asked, "What’s my darling up to?"

"Practicing my calligraphy. Dad was just asking about you. Remember to bring back some nice gifts for him when you come home, okay?"

Holly glanced at Wyatt out of the corner of her eye, smiling as she spoke into the phone.

’Got to build good rapport between my husband and my dad whenever I can.’

Hearing this, Wyatt’s lips parted slightly, then closed again. He wanted to say it wasn’t necessary but was afraid of hurting his daughter’s good intentions.

On the other end of the line, Mortimer agreed without hesitation. "I will. And I’ll bring a purse back for my darling, too."

"You don’t have any money, and you’re bringing back a purse? Are you planning to rob someone?"

A thought occurred to Holly, and she asked seriously, "Are you hiding a secret stash of money again?"

Hearing the words "secret stash," Wyatt glanced over at his daughter, who was chewing on the end of her brush.

In the restroom, Mortimer let out a low chuckle, not missing a beat. "You can search me when I get home. Pat me down from top to bottom, inside and out. Any way you like."

Holly Winslow: "..."

’Filthy pervert.’

She glanced at Wyatt. He was reading his newspaper and probably hadn’t heard. She huffed, "If you can’t bring back a purse, I’m going to pinch your cheeks."

"And what if I do bring one back?"

Mortimer didn’t wait for her to answer. "You’ll let me get on top?"

Holly Winslow: "..."

She grabbed the phone and went into her bedroom, her face red as she scolded him, "You’re shameless! Can you be serious for a second? If Dad hears you, how are you ever going to show your face around here again?"

"What were you thinking, darling? I meant let me get on the bed to sleep."

That rascal Mortimer was playing word games with her. As if she’d believe him. She changed the subject, instructing, "Since you’ve been drinking, remember to order some congee. Don’t come crying to me about a stomachache tomorrow. Actually, never mind. I’ll call the front desk at your hotel. Make sure you eat it when you get back."

Listening to his darling’s nagging, the curve of Mortimer’s lips deepened.

"Alright." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Ten minutes or so later, they hung up. Mortimer left the restroom and returned to the private room. A few young women had been brought in to drink with the clients, while his two female colleagues sat awkwardly to the side.

His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.