GoodNovelChapter 814
Chapter 814:
For a fleeting moment, Carrie considered inviting him over. But then she remembered—Daxton had just moved
in. If Kyson saw him there, misunderstandings would be inevitable. Isonridge was a small place. In their social
circle, news traveled fast. She knew Kyson wasn’t the type to gossip, but if he found out, Marina would too.
That alone was enough to make things awkward.
Before she could cup with an excuse, Kyson added, “But not today. | need to drop off this lettuce for the
kid's pet rabbit.”
Relieved by the escape route he had unknowingly provided, Carrie seized the opportunity.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt“Oh, then you should hurry. Don’t keep the kid waiting. | need to get back too—working late tonight.”
Kyson nodded.
“Got everything you need?” He asked, glancing at the items in the basket.
“Yeah, that’s all.”
Without another word, he took the basket and walked to the checkout. Carrie, expecting to pay her share, had
her card ready—but by the tshe stepped forward, Kyson had already swiped his card.
Carrie frowned. How was he so fast? She had barely blinked, and the transaction was done.
She forced a smile and held up her phone.
“Lettransfer the money to you. You only bought a bag of lettuce—this isn’t right.”
Kyson lifted the lettuce with a nonchalant shrug.
“It’s just a little grocery money. Don’t worry about it. If you really feel bad, just cooka meal next time.” He
glanced around and added, “My car's in the underground parking. How about you?”
“I walked. | live right next door—just a few steps.” She gestured toward the front entrance.
Kyson waved.
“See you then.”
“Yeah, see you.” She watched him leave before heading for the exit. She glanced down at the groceries in the
bag, narrowing her eyes. Another favor owed.
Keeping up with so many people she was indebted to only made things a bit more complicated.
As she stepped outside, her eyes caught sight of a sleek, black Maybach parked at the entrance. It wasn’t just
any luxury car—it had Isonridge plates. But what made her pause wasn’t the car itself. It was the license plate:
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmKLOVEA.
A strange feeling settled in her chest. Custom plates were rare, expensive—a statement. Whoever owned this
car wasn't just rich; they wanted the world to know something.
Her curiosity barely had tto settle before the Maybach revved to life, its tires kicking up muddy water. Before
she could react, a splash hit her shoes.
word
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