My One-month Marriage With Mr. Hawkins

Silence blanketed the cabin. Except for two expressionless bodyguards sitting there like the background board, only Stanford and Phoebe were left there.

Stanford pressed his thin lips, looking at Phoebe with a complicated expression.

He frowned in regret and his mind was messy. He had heard what Addison complained just now.

He wondered if it was because he failed to coax Phoebe so he felt so irritated and angry right now.

Was it because of her?

Stanford shook his head in disbelief. He denied it. He wouldn’t ever become like this because of a woman.

He was sure that Addison was bullshitting because he was unhappy.

Stanford gritted his teeth, unwilling to insist on thinking about this topic. He directly looked away.

The cabin became completely quiet.

Phoebe was looked out of the window, and Stanford was staring at his tablet.

They didn’t interact with each other at all as if they were strangers sitting in the same cabin, and they would part after getting off the jet and not meet again.

Phoebe looked out of the window in silence, feeling sadder, bitterer, and lonelier.

She also realized more clearly that after they got off the jet and she met Florence, the last moment of goodbye would come.

No matter how many feelings she was feeling, there wouldn’t be any chance at all.

She felt helpless, and she felt more futile.

Stanford operated on his tablet, working on something that would gape Addison.

After twenty minutes, a helicopter flew over, flying in parallel with the private jet at the same speed.

Later, after they communicated with each other, the hatch doors were opened at the same time.

Feeling the wind flown into the cabin, Phoebe raised her head in confusion.

In a surprise, she saw Addison standing at the hatch door, pulling a rope.

She wondered what they were doing.

In confusion. Phoebe peered out of the window.

two planes, there were two ropes, on which

were pulled, the casserole was moving towards their private jet

at them, an unreliable conjecture rising in

the other helicopter delivering the tonic soup

too...

be so imaginative to figure out such

casserole was obtained safely. The hatch door was

on which there was a bowl of

the soup in front of Phoebe and said, “Miss Jenkins, please drink the soup

soup in front of her, Phoebe couldn’t

soup was delivered by

look, she held the bowl of tonic soup that was obtained in

said gratefully, “Thank you

with the idea. Mr. Fraser arranged it in person. Miss Jenkins, if

Addison cast a glance at Stanford meaningfully and walked

not to

Mr. Fraser had finally become smart. He

big effort that showed his romantic care, Addison was sure that Miss Jenkins must

a master looks like a fool. When he truly cared about someone, he could do such practical

suddenly felt the soup bowl in her hands was too hot for her to hold

was more shocking than she got to know that the tonic soup was delivered by the

out it was Stanford

eyes kept twinkling. She looked at him with

to ask something

have a lot of helicopters. It’s just a piece of cake. Hurry up

the door

Mr. Fraser

use a helicopter to deliver the tonic soup to another person, not to mention that the soup was hurriedly

words, Phoebe’s sparkling

course, that was just a piece of cake for Stanford as long as

was so pathetic as

bowl tightly, she

she bent down her head and slowly drank the

taste anything

dark, the private

was there. After getting off the jet, she couldn’t

there were several villas in front of her, all

and asked, “Which

you the