The flowers were sent by Ethan Laurent, starting over a year ago.
Except for the times when they were apart, a bouquet of flowers arrived every morning without fail.
Summer Ford signed for the flowers, holding the bouquet and looking at it, suddenly reminded of Tim Sullivan's words.
Whenever Summer thought about it, a dissatisfaction bubbled up in her chest.
Tim Sullivan's words, whether she ultimately believed them or not, would inevitably make anyone question things when hearing such words directed at themselves.
Rousseau.
Ethan Laurent was ignored early this morning, leaving him in an extremely gloomy mood.
Arriving at the office, just as he was preparing to work, his gaze accidentally fell on the calendar on his desk.
He stared at today's date, and his brows slowly arched upward.
He quietly gazed at the date for a long time before pulling out his chair and sitting down, then he opened his desk drawer.
