High above the void, Charles-Saint stood proudly, his hands clasped behind his back. He regarded the crowd before him as nothing more than pigs and dogs, showing only the slightest trace of warmth when his gaze fell upon Leslie.
Leslie's unique bloodline was a perfect match for his own.
Owen, a lowly commoner from an insignificant place, couldn't even compare to a single strand of Leslie's hair.
Previously, Leslie had been sheltered, stuck in her own small world, and mistakenly thought that someone like Owen was a genius. But compared to him, Owen was utterly crushed in every possible way.
He believed Leslie was smart enough to know how to make the right choice.
However, under his expectant gaze, Leslie coldly looked at him and said,
"So what? I am already Owen's wife. Even if I weren't, you are not worthy of even carrying my shoes."
