The Ex-Wife's Triumph novel Chapter 174

"What's there to see about these old bones?"

Old Mrs. Sherwood smiled, setting the paper aside to dry before picking up her brush again. "Speak. What's the matter?"

Kingsley stood by the desk, his voice low. "I just wanted to tell you. I'm going to pursue her."

The tip of Old Mrs. Sherwood's brush paused. She chuckled softly. "You don't need to report to me. It's not like you listen anyway. If you want to do it, do it. Worst case scenario, you end up a bachelor. The Sherwood family still has your brother to hold it up."

Wilma, standing to the side, hid a smile. "If he really ended up a bachelor, you'd be more anxious than anyone."

Kingsley watched her write. "I just don't know how to pursue her."

"Oh? You're here for advice?"

Old Mrs. Sherwood wrote the characters for 'Acknowledge faults without hiding' and turned to Wilma. "Wilma, did I ever date when I was young?"

Wilma smiled. "No, Madam. You and the Master had a political marriage."

As they spoke, more characters appeared on the paper: 'Correct mistakes without fear.'

Old Mrs. Sherwood placed the brush on the rack, admiring the bold strokes. "I'll gift these words to you."

Kingsley smiled helplessly. "You could just tell me directly."

"Tell you what? I don't know what you're talking about." Old Mrs. Sherwood feigned ignorance, setting the paper aside.

Amusement filled Kingsley's eyes. He nodded. "Understood."

Old Mrs. Sherwood handed her glasses to Wilma, took a sip of tea, and added, "I'll give you a few more words: know when to cut your losses."

She put down the teacup and walked out, Kingsley following close behind.

Kingsley didn't reply. He tapped his phone screen and sent a message.

On the other end, Xavier saw the text and almost teared up—he hadn't even fixed his jet lag yet, and they were leaving again.

Fighting back tears, he replied: [Received!]

Kingsley went upstairs to his bedroom. By the time he was asleep, Xavier, who had received the order thirty minutes prior, had already booked the flights.

Lucy's phone buzzed. Seeing the message content, her face went cold.

She opened her laptop. The screen showed multiple projects with red progress bars. Even if she wanted a vacation, she couldn't get away.

The more she thought, the angrier she got. She remembered a line from a TV show and muttered through gritted teeth, mocking his tone: "'Always coming to Switzerland.' Who exactly is in Switzerland? Is he sick?!"

She kicked the table leg in frustration.