Just as they were chatting happily, a maid walked in.
"Madam, the master is back."
Ann Nolan's face flashed with astonishment, "Why has he come back?"
"Mr. Santos's car just returned, he should be arriving in the living room shortly," the maid said.
"I see," Ann responded indifferently.
The maid nodded and left.
No sooner had she spoken than the living room door opened, a gust of hot air swept in.
Zaiden Santos steadied a suitcase with one hand and slung his suit jacket over the other arm; he looked haggard and weary.
His deep-set eyes harbored intensity; his gaze still, his expression composed.
His sharp eyes landed on Ann Nolan and did not waver.
Jasmine Yale looked up and saw Zaiden Santos; she nudged Ann Nolan, who was sipping her tea.
The man in the dark shirt maintained his usual refined elegance, just as Jasmine had seen him for the first time.
Ann raised her head and frowned.
Why did he look as if he had just returned from a business trip outside?
