?Chapter 749:
Corrine smirked as she listened to the sharp click of the call disconnecting.
Leaning back in her chair, she turned her gaze to the calendar on her desk. A single date was circled in red ink. Her fingers tapped idly against the surface.
What else should she send?
While Corrine wracked her brain over what to get Nate for his birthday, Leah was facing a different struggle—one far less trivial. Fresh out of police custody, thanks to Andromache’s timely intervention, she now found herself swarmed by paparazzi, their cameras shing like relentless fireflies in the night.
Inside the car, Leah exhaled a shaky breath and turned to Andromache, gratitude flickering in her weary eyes. “Andromache, I truly appreciate this. Thank you.”
If Andromache had not stepped in, things would have spiraled out of control. She knew that much.
Andromache regarded her with an unreadable expression, though for the briefest moment, something sharp flickered in her gaze—disdain, maybe, buried beneath the surface.
Still, she wore an affectionate smile as she reached for Leah’s hand. “You are my goddaughter. Of course, I will protect you when it matters most.”
Her grip was firm but fleeting. Then, her tone shifted, cooler now. “But as for whates next, that is your burden to bear. Thepany’s problems belong to your family. It would not be appropriate for an outsider like me to interfere.”
Leah swallowed hard and nodded. “I understand.”
As the car cruised through the streets, Leah remained glued to her phone, scrolling through news feeds, tracking the damage.
When she saw her fan groups disbanding one after another, a cold dread settled in her chest.
When they finally reached the Burgess residence, Andromache’s voice wasced with quiet warning. “Lay low for now, Leah. That would be wise.”
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“I know. Do not worry.”
As their conversation ended, the male assistant, who had been sitting in the front passenger seat, stepped out momentarily, only to slide into the back seat beside Andromache once Leah was gone.
As she watched the sleek car pull away, Leah’s expression darkened, her thoughts swirling like a storm.
Inside the car, the assistant wasted no time, his hands expertly kneading Andromache’s legs, working out the tension with practiced ease.
Andromache let out a soft sigh of satisfaction, tilting her head back slightly.
“Ms. Hopkins, there is something I do not quite understand,” the assistant murmured, his touch never faltering.
Andromache cracked one eye open, her expression calm and expectant.
After a brief hesitation, he carefully phrased his question. “Leah Burgess is clearly out of her depth. Why bother with her?”
Whether it was his words that ttered her or the precision of his touch, Andromache answered with rare patience. “It was just a minor favor. Besides, people remember who stood by them in times of trouble, not those who simply piled on when things were already going well.”
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