Mr. Ford Is Jealous Chapter 159

His slender legs extended to scoop up the thong on the ground with his hand-made leather shoes,
before leaning down to grasp it.

Then, he squeezed it into a ball and let go. “I remember you liked lace in the past. What made you
switch to cotton?”

Stella closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Her arms were freezing. “It was a random purchase, I
have no preference,” she added as she rubbed her right arm

Weston said nothing and threw the thong next to him.

“Continue,” he said, studying her with interest.

She nodded and knelt in front of him, trembling. Her hands went out and touched the spot she didn’t
want to touch.

Sure enough, his body stiffened up and the veins on his neck ruptured. He grabbed her hair and pulled
her away. “Who taught you these?” “No one.” She shook her head.

Her answer pleased him. He held the back of her neck, and his movements became gentle.

“Good girl.”

He knew that there weren’t any men by her side during the time they were apart.

The only threat he had was Justin.

But now, it seemed even he wasn’t a threat to him.



He caressed her hair and noticed how soft it was, like fine satin.

As if discovering a fascinating new toy, he took his time and ran his fingers through it.

Stella despised anyone playing with her hair, but for the time being, there was nothing she could do but
suck it all up.

Weston saw the look on her face and he let go of her hair



“Why are you upset again?” “I’m not upset.” She shook her head. “You don’t look very convincing.”
Hearing this, she looked up and forced a smile at him.

She looked worse than crying.

With disgust, he clicked his tongue and averted his gaze. “Does being with me disgust you?” She didn’t
answer instantly, but paused for a while before asking, “Do you want to hear the truth or the lie?”

After a short moment of silence, he chuckled. The dim light shone on his face, accentuating the
features on his face. He seemed to be smiling, but his aura of superiority pushed people away. Even if
one could get along well with him, an evident distance could be perceived. “Tell me the lie first.” She
pursed her lips and said without any hesitation, “I am happy.”

“What about the truth?”

She clenched her fist tightly and slowly said each word, “I feel even worse than dying.”

Instantly, the smile on his face vanished.

The atmosphere turned cold.



7 pm at night

Stella was on her phone when Roger called her. She picked it up, looked at the man in the living room,
and murmured quietly to the phone, “I have some stuff to do tonight. I’m not going home.”

Roger, in an apron, stood next to the dinner table. He was stunned for a second when he heard the
response from the other end of the phone.

“Is there anything urgent?”

He stared at the oil-scorched blisters on his hands, as well as the table filled with dishes for the meal
he was preparing “Stella.”


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