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.

planes, there were two ropes, on

the ropes were pulled, the casserole was

an unreliable conjecture

the other helicopter delivering

too... luxurious,

so imaginative to figure out such

casserole was obtained safely. The hatch

Addison held a tray, on which there was a bowl of

“Miss Jenkins, please drink the soup while

tonic soup in front of her, Phoebe couldn’t believe

enough, the tonic soup

of tonic soup

gratefully, “Thank you so much,

his hand and said with a smile, “I didn’t come up with the idea. Mr. Fraser arranged it in person. Miss Jenkins, if you want

a smile, Addison cast a

his best not to

turned out Mr. Fraser had finally become smart. He could even

effort that showed his romantic care, Addison was

was a master looks like a fool.

Phoebe suddenly felt the soup bowl in her hands was too

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

it was Stanford who personally

She looked at him with

wanted to ask something but didn’t. He felt a bit

of helicopters. It’s just a piece of cake. Hurry up to drink your soup.

the door

Mr.

it be just a piece of cake? At least, Addison had never seen Stanford use a helicopter to deliver the tonic soup to another person, not to mention that the soup was hurriedly taken out from the tonic soup restaurant of an ultra-luxury

hearing his words, Phoebe’s sparkling eyes instantly

for Stanford as long as he gave a command. How could she

so

the soup bowl tightly, she whispered,

head

didn’t taste anything except the

was getting dark, the private jet had arrived at the

Florence was there. After getting off the jet, she couldn’t wait to see

several villas in front of her, all

around and asked,

you