Old Mrs. Constance froze for a moment before she let out a sigh. “Okay. I haven’t visited your
grandfather in a while, anyway. I wonder if he’d blame me for it.”
John tried his best to lighten the mood. “Of course not. Grandpa was always afraid of you—he’d never
blame you for such a thing.”
The old lady burst into laughter. “Nonsense! He was never afraid of me. His temper is worse than mine.
Although he’d act like he was going according to my wishes, he would always end up doing things his
own way. He was never afraid of making me mad.”
This time, John merely chuckled without saying anything else. After a while, Sophia came downstairs.
She had dolled herself up and changed into a maxi dress. John narrowed his eyes and stared at
Sophia, but he didn’t say much. Old Mrs. Constance, on the other hand, chuckled as she looked at
Sophia. “I’ve always heard people saying that women turn old after giving birth. But look at Sophia! She
didn’t change at all—she still looks like a young lady.”
John turned around and lowered the baby into the cot. “Her appearances might not have changed, but
she’s a mother now. She’s no longer just a young lady.”
Old Mrs. Constance looked rather stunned to hear John’s words. “What’s this? Are you feeling uneasy
because of how gorgeous your wife is?”
Sophia continued to ignore John. “You don’t need to listen to him, Grandma. He’s just worried that he
can’t match up to my standards because he’s aging so much quicker than I am.”
John flashed her a glare. “I dare you to say that again,” he muttered grumpily.
She simply scoffed and retrieved her purse. “I’m going out now. Are you coming or not?”
He wanted to follow along, of course. He had intended to bring their child, but he decided that his plan
wouldn’t work as they were heading out a little too early. They would have to bring all sorts of childcare
items if they wanted to bring the baby out—it was too much trouble.
John didn’t need to change his clothes—all he had to do was throw a coat on. “Of course I’m coming
along. Let’s go.”
Sophia waved goodbye to Old Mrs. Constance before she and John headed out together. Both of them
were quiet as they made their way to the parking lot, and John only spoke up after they got into the car.
“Why are you dressed so nicely? The people there are all people we know; you don’t need to dress
nicely for them.”
Sophia couldn’t even be bothered to glance in John’s direction. “Just don’t look at me if you don’t want
to see me dressed up,” she muttered.
He scoffed. “Everyone there has seen you when you were in confinement after pregnancy. I don’t think
it matters whether or not you put any makeup on today.”
Sophia knitted her brows. “Are you trying to start a fight? I can get the driver to send me if you don’t
want to go over. We could have our gathering tonight without you.”
Despite his gloomy expression, John started the car and began to drive without talking at all. Neither of
them broke the silence along the way to Logan’s clubhouse. Both of them had been filled with passion
and lust when both their bodies were pressed together the night before, but they were starting to bicker
and throw tantrums the very next morning.
Sophia had the urge to give John a long lecture, but a part of her understood that John only said those
things because he was jealous. John seemed to lose his mind whenever the matter was related to Ian.
Well… I guess I understand. He’s just a little too annoying sometimes. Whenever he gets jealous, it’s
almost like he’s lost half of his brain cells. It makes me speechless every time.
By the time Sophia and John arrived at Logan’s clubhouse, they found Logan and Lola playing poker in
the room. Lola was still seated by the table and gambling despite her pregnant belly. However, she was
clearly unfamiliar with the game as she kept losing money. Logan didn’t seem to mind—he even looked
like he was enjoying himself as he paid for Lola’s losses.
Lola, on the other hand, was rather frustrated at herself. “I remember taking 90,000 out. How am I left
with just this amount after playing for a short while?”
The dealer of their table chuckled at her words. “How generous of you, Mrs. Jefferson. Your luck seems
to be rubbing off on me!”
Logan raised his hand and tugged onto the dealer’s arm. “Is that how you’re supposed to talk to her?”
he hissed.
The dealer quickly changed his words. “My bad. My bad! That was blind luck. I think Mrs. Jefferson’s
skills are really impressive too.”
The dealer might have been trying to praise her, but Lola knew herself the best. She smacked her lips
for a moment before she spoke. “Let’s go again. I’ve heard people say that beginners have more luck
than seasoned players. Why hasn’t it worked on me so far? Let’s do it again.”
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