XLIX | Do You Know Who He Likes?

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...If Sophia revealed the truth, would it disrupt Isabelle's happiness?

Sophia hesitated for a moment. In the end, she curved her lips, shook her head, and smiled at Isabelle. "How would I know who Alexander loves? I haven't contacted him in so long. I know as much as you do. I just heard from other people that the woman he loves is already married, so I thought I'd may as well ask you."

"Oh," Isabelle replied, embarrassed. She bit her straw and turned her head to look out of the cafe window.

After a pause, Sophia put the mug in her hands down and asked again, "It's been a long time since I saw James. How is he recently?"

The real James was still lying in the hospital. He hadn't woken up yet, but people didn't know about that... Isabelle nodded and said, "He's great."

After a while, she continued, "You know how it is, after James was disfigured, he doesn't like to see people."

"Yeah, it's such a shame. If James hadn't gotten in that car accident, then the two of you together would be an ideal couple."

Isabelle lowered her eyelids to cover the guilt in her eyes. She smiled, and didn't say anything.

"But it's all right. Cosmetic surgery is so advanced now. Wait until James gets better, then we'll plan something."


When Alexander received Isabelle's message, he was sitting in Global Entertainment's meeting room, listening to department performance reports. He had already brushed over these reports before the meeting, so he was already a little distracted.

Then the phone in his pocket suddenly vibrated. At first, he didn't consider taking it out, but feeling a little bored, he fished it out to find a text from Isabelle.

For that split second, Alexander felt that time had stopped. This was similar to when he used to sit in his university library, tired from the pressure of filming and studies, and he would suddenly receive a random, meaningless text from Isabelle, like, "You took on a historical drama?", "I heard James say that because of filming, you failed your course?", "It's snowing in NY? Does that mean you can see the bridge covered in snow?"

Whenever it got around to that time, he was a little a tired and irritated, but then, like a miracle, things would quiet down and he would chat with her on the phone for a long time.

Thinking back to those precious days of his youth, a hint of sadness and sorrow came over Alexander. His fingers gently tapped on the phone screen as he replied to Isabelle.

It was already five o'clock when the meeting came to an end. Alexander returned to the office to handle some urgent documents for the day. Then he grabbed his phone to check the time—it was already twenty past five. He clicked open and reread the messages, sent during the meeting, between him and Isabelle. In the corner of his lips, there was a hint of a smile.

"Mr. Smith..." cried the assistant, pushing open the door and entering.

Alexander hurriedly put his phone on his desk. With a cold expression, he said, "What?"

"Mr. Smith, you have a dinner scheduled for tonight. It's booked for seven, but there might be traffic, so we have to leave early..."

Before the assistant could finish, Alexander interrupted in a flat voice, "I won't be attending tonight's dinner." The assistant was stunned. Alexander stood up. As he put on a jacket, he said in a cold tone, "I'm taking the car. Come directly to the office tomorrow morning. You don't have to go to York Garden."

Without waiting for his assistant to react, Alexander pulled open his office door and left straight away.


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