Elizabeth Thompson was naturally noble and disdained the tactics of ordinary people.
She knew Trevor Sherman all too well.
He was indeed capable, but also arrogant and conceited.
If she treated him like an ordinary person, she would also become one of those cheap women who throw themselves at him in his eyes.
Upon hearing this, Olga nodded in agreement, "Emma, it seems like you have a point."
For someone like Trevor Sherman, a different approach should be employed.
"Mom, I'll go downstairs first."
"Go ahead." Olga's face was full of affection.
Trevor Sherman was standing by the car.
"Mantou."
"Come here."
Just then, a faint voice echoed through the air.
Light and gentle.
Trevor's gaze followed the voice.
He saw a figure standing at the end of the garden.
The graceful figure was shrouded in a cluster of blooming red roses.
Although her face was not clear, the transcendent aura surrounding her was unmatched by ordinary people.
