?Chapter 980:


    A momentter, Nate replied with nothing but a single question mark.


    The moment Corrine saw the question mark, she was almost certain—the roses had nothing to do with Nate.


    And if they weren’t from him, then who?


    A heart-shaped card peeked out from the bouquet, its inscription sweet yet painfully clichéd. “The most beautiful flowers for you, the most beautifuldy.” How cheesy!


    A shiver of distaste crawled up her spine as she flicked the card aside, then scooped up the entire bouquet and dumped it into the trash. Before she could dwell on it further, a knock sounded at her office door again.


    The door swung open, revealing yet anothervish bouquet of white roses.


    “Miss Hond, another delivery just arrived,” Natasha announced, motioning for the person behind her to set the evenrger arrangement on Corrine’s desk.


    Corrine frowned. “From who this time?”


    Natasha shrugged.


    There was no card or contact information attached to this bouquet. A brief silence settled between them before Natasha ventured a guess.


    “Could it be Mr. Hopkins?”


    “No,” Corrine’s response was immediate, firm.


    At that moment, Jules strolled in from the hall, yet another bouquet cradled in his arms. “I must say,” he said, “you and Nate certainly know how to keep the romance alive. You’re practically inseparable every day, and he’s still sending anonymous bouquets to you.”


    Corrine and Natasha were too stunned to respond.


    “What the hell?” Jules blurted out, his gaze darting between the countless roses. “Is today some kind of national romance day?”


    Corrine barely spared him a nce. “Where did thosee from?”


    Jules looked down at the bouquet in his arms as if noticing them for the first time. “Ran into the florist on my way up. Figured I’d save the guy the trip.”


    Corrine let out an exasperated sigh. “Just throw them away.”


    “You could’ve mentioned that sooner.” Without a second thought, Jules flung the roses haphazardly on the floor beside the trash bin since there was already a bouquet in it. “Damn things were killing my arms.”


    Flowers, in his opinion, were an impractical gift.


    They wilted too fast and—most importantly—were heavy as hell. Wouldn’t it make more sense to give something with actual value? Jewelry, for instance.


    Settling into the sofa, Jules lit a cigarette, his posture one of careless ease.


    “Now that the Burgess family is out of the picture, is it the Ashton family’s turn next?”


    “Any word on Andromache?” Corrine asked.


    Jules took a slow drag, flicking the ash off the tip before answering. “Lying low at home, but you know she’s scheming. She’s determined to dominate the Lyhaton market—she won’t back down easily. You’ve hit her hard this time, and she’s not the type to let that go.”


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