Anne Davidson wore a face full of grievance, her words carrying both strength and a coquettish tone.
"This is her job."
Maxwell Peary glanced at Anne Davidson, then continued walking forward.
"Maxwell, I've been waiting for you here all morning, shall we go have lunch?"
"I'm sorry, I need to go back to accompany my wife."
Hearing him mention Nia Mitchell, Anne Davidson subconsciously glanced at his cheek.
She couldn't tell if it was because Maxwell Peary was pale or due to some preconceived notion, but she always felt his cheek looked a bit red.
It seemed as if there were faint finger marks visible.
"Did you have a fight? Is that why you're going back to soothe her?"
Anne Davidson was very unhappy, her face full of embarrassment.
"Why would you stoop so low for a woman like her? She's not worth it, you should be proud."
Maxwell Peary, this is Young Master Peary after all.
Imagine, who else in this world would dare slap Young Master Peary?
