Chapter215
Bryson thought for a moment, “Did someone else at home eat with you?”
Ophelia:
“Go away!” She kicked his wheelchair away with her foot, “I won’t play with a fool!”
Bryson’s handsome face showed a look of helplessness as he spread his hands and said, “I had spoken up for you before, and I even knocked on the door, but Winford ignored me and wouldn’t listen to my advice. What could I do?”
“Do you want me to take your punishment instead? Well, it’s not impossible, but can Winford accept a man? I’m afraid that as soon as I climbed into your bed, Winford would break all three of my legs…”
He touched his chin and actually began to ponder seriously.
Ophelia took a deep breath, held it in, and held it in again, but in the end, she couldn’t hold back any longer and grabbed the dusting cloth beside her!
“Help me, Winford-!!”
Bryson’s wheelchair flew by quickly, a shadow flashing past Winford, and a long scream echoed.
Seeing Ophelia, who had completely forgotten her discomfort and was aggressively chasing after him, Winford thought, “……”
“Mr. Winford?”
11.450
The person on the other end of the phone, feeling a bit anxious when there was suddenly no sound on this side, spoke up.
“Continue.” Winford averted his gaze, rubbed his brow, and suppressed a hint of helplessness.
It’s no wonder that Ophelia couldn’t be gentle with Bryson; this guy was both sharp–tongued and reckless, having intentionally provoked her several times. At that moment, being chased and beaten was hardly unfair.
Seeing Ophelia so lively, Winford was also happy and decided not to intervene, allowing the two of them to have their fun.
However, he didn’t expect that just after he finished the call, the servant rushed in in a flurry.
“Mr. Winford, the lady and Mr. Merritt fell!”
Winford’s expression suddenly changed, and the servant only felt a gust of wind passing by. By the time he reacted, the man had already strode
out!
At that moment, the garden was in a state of chaos, as the servants hurriedly helped Ophelia and Bryson up from the flower bushes.
“Mr. Winford!”
Winford arrived, and the cold, menacing expression on his face frightened the servants, who hurriedly stepped aside.
Thus, Ophelia and Bryson, who were surrounded in the middle, were exposed.
The two of them were sitting in the flower bushes without any regard for their appearance, spitting out the dirt and leaves that had accidentally gotten into their mouths, while the precious flowers and plants beneath them had already been ruined beyond recognition.
Seeing Winford, Ophelia immediately reached out her hand, looking pitiful as she wanted to hug him, “Honey, my feet hurt…!”
Winford’s hands were faster than his brain. When he heard her say that her foot hurt, he immediately picked her up and, with a serious expression, asked, “What happened?”
Ophelia lay on his broad shoulder, feeling so guilty that she didn’t know what to say.
Graham, who accidentally witnessed everything, cleared his throat and said, “It was like this: Mr. Merritt’s wheelchair ran over a stone, and then the lady couldn’t stop the car…”
At that moment, the two people who collided together fell headfirst into the flower bushes ahead, getting a mouthful of dirt.
Ophelia buried her head deeply, feeling that she had lost all her face today!
Bryson was left alone on the ground, watching Ophelia, who had already been cradled in Winford’s arms like a precious treasure. He said with a mix of envy and bitterness, “Winford, my feet hurt too…”
Winford looked indifferent and said, “Wasn’t your wheelchair beside
you?”
Bryson: “…”
Ophelia almost laughed out loud.
But in the end, Winford still kept a cold face and had the servant help him up.
Ophelia mentioned that her foot hurt, and after that, she didn’t say where else she felt uncomfortable. However, Winford still carried her into the house and had the doctor come to take a look.
In the end, the result came out: she had only scraped her knee a little, and Bryson was also mostly fine. Winford finally felt relieved.
Then, his handsome face darkened.
Half an hour later-
Ophelia sat at her desk, preparing to write the first reflection of her life.
Next to her was Bryson, who was also holding a pen and looking at a loss.
Ophelia stared at the blank sheet of paper in front of her for a long time, unable to write a single word.
She was smart, but she only liked to read medical books. How could she write something like a self–criticism report?
Beside him, Bryson said softly, “It’s fine for me to chase girls, but is writing a self–criticism really something I should be doing?”
Ophelia couldn’t help but say, “It’s all your fault! Otherwise, how could I have been so unlucky?”
