The Girlboss Begs For Remarriage

Frank was napping in Trevor’s car when his phone rang, waking him up.

Seeing that it was Helen, he answered and promptly heard her asking coldly, “Frank, are you with Mr. Zurich right now?” Frank glanced at Trevor, who was sitting beside him. “Yeah.” Helen took a deep breath to calm her rising blood pressure—it seemed that Peter was not lying!

“You disappoint me, Frank,” she growled. “If you’re upset, you can tell it to my face—why backstab my family?” Frank rubbed his temple as he replied, “Would you believe it if I told you that I didn’t?” “Then why would Mr. Zurich leave right after arriving at my doorstep?!” Helen demanded. “He also annulled our partnership!” “Trevor’s decision is his own and has nothing to do with me.” Convinced that Frank was a coward and would not admit to it, Helen was left seething and growling at every word. “You really disappoint me.” Frank’s voice suddenly turned cool as well. “It seems all you care about is what you want to believe and not the actual truth. I have no idea what Peter told you nor am I willing to explain myself—just don’t bother me with stuff like this ever again.” And with those words, he hung up, the veins on the back of his hand throbbing as his eyes flashed coolly.

To think that Helen never trusted him even after three years of marriage, pinning the blame on him just over mere speculation.

Perhaps she really believed that he was a freeloading shut-in too!

Beside him, Trevor could certainly tell the call was from the Lanes. He asked tentatively, “Shall I straighten them out, Mr. Lawrence?” Frank sighed and waved him off. “Forget it. Let’s just distance ourselves from them from now on.” He could not bring himself to destroy them just yet, so they could rot for all he cared.

– Soon, Trevor’s Rolls-Royce slowly entered the Turnbulls’ hilltop villa.

Seemingly having been informed of their arrival, a servant was on hand to receive them, leading them to the drawing room.

I shall inform Mr. Turnbull of your arrival.” After the servant turned and headed upstairs, Frank looked around and muttered quietly, “There really aren’t many servants around here, are there?” “You shouldn’t underestimate them, Mr. Lawrence,” Trevor told him. “Walter is merely the Turnbulls’ figurehead in Riverton, while the majority of their influence remains in Morhen.” “Their heiress Vicky is herself extraordinary, establishing a transnational trading conglomerate single-handedly five years ago and accumulating billions in wealth. She’s also an apprentice to Riverton’s governor and a prodigy of martial arts—she would be an elite among Riverton’s youth if not for her illness.” Frank took a sip of his tea and chuckled. “You really think highly of her! How does she compare to Helen?” “Haha!” Trevor laughed, not holding back since Frank and Helen were divorced anyway. “That’s like comparing a wolf to a mere sheep.” Inspiration struck just then,

“This is him—Frank Lawrence. He has been training in seclusion at the south pole, and his abilities as a healer are extraordinary.” Walter’s smile stiffened when he saw

that case, please come with me, Mr. Lawrence.” “Lead the way, sir,” Frank said flatly, and he and Trevor followed Walter to

young

exactly the ravishing beauty Trevor had described, with flawless fair skin,

no hiding her haughty presence—

beside her bed,

then, assuring her, “Vicky, Trevor just got you a healer. He’ll definitely help you

she had countless consultations with other healers over the last five

hopes on Frank either. If

exaggerating, Ms. Turnbull.” Trevor smiled

your hands now, Mr. Lawrence.” Frank nodded, perfectly comfortable as he walked up to hold Vicky’s

take, surprised that he was so young, and watched