After a few days living the sugar baby life in the big villa, Eloise finally understood how restrictive it was being "the boss's woman." Worried about her going out alone, Isidore tried his best to bring all his work back home to handle it there, accommodating her.
Inside the gates, every day, large men in black suits came and went, gathering in the study, whispering about something unknown. Isidore didn't mind her listening in, but she often fell asleep, drooling all over his pants.
Aside from playing with her phone or watching TV dramas, no matter how big the house was, it could never become a shopping mall. In the end, she still felt bored, sighing deeply every day. The only form of entertainment left was the nighttime activities in bed with Isidore.
She had, however, come up with quite a few new tricks, her academic achievements impressive.
One day, after they were done, she lay sprawled out, fast asleep. Isidore, still full of energy, took a towel and began to clean her body. Suddenly, there was a moment of silence as his hand slowly rested on her stomach. Eloise, half-conscious, felt it, her heart skipping a beat.
She also found it strange—despite having done this with Isidore so many times, and never using any protection, why had nothing happened? But she didn't care about having children, so she quickly dismissed the thought.
That night, perhaps due to Isidore's actions, a thought vaguely formed in her dream: Could it be that the plot of the villainess hadn't played out yet, and her body was somehow trapped by some force of fate in a certain moment in time?
How ridiculous! She laughed at herself in the dream, turned over, and fell back asleep. The next day, she had completely forgotten about it.
Isidore, noticing her boredom, brought a child home one day. Eloise saw that it was the same troublemaker who had caused the explosion in the kitchen earlier. She was left dumbfounded by how Isidore's bizarre thought process had made everything even more chaotic.
"I hate kids the most! Don't think bringing a child to me is helping me pass the time!" Isidore's handsome face turned awkward. The words he was about to say were swallowed, and he pushed the child forward, "It's fine, you don't need to take care of him, just let him play."
Cyrus stepped forward and bowed, "Hello, young madam." Isidore smiled, while Eloise's face darkened, "Just call me 'miss.'"
She quickly discovered that this child, Cyrus, was only seven or eight, but he had far more tricks up his sleeve than she did. At first, he took her to play games, leveling up like crazy. Later, he got her into binge-watching dramas, and then accompanied her in playing all sorts of bizarre, outrageously expensive assembly toys.
On sunny days, he took her to the backyard to skateboard and play the drums. To be honest, under the guidance of this little brat, Eloise found herself somewhat overwhelmed with fun. With the security measures at home in place, Isidore felt a little more at ease and began stepping out to handle his affairs.
As they got more familiar with each other, Cyrus sympathetically said to Eloise, "Isidore is hard to get along with, right? You've had a tough time." Eloise thought for a moment, paused, felt a bit sad, and sighed.
"It's fine," Cyrus said maturely, patting her shoulder, "You're so young; you shouldn't be controlled by my Isidore. Today, I'm risking being locked away by him for the rest of my life just to make you happy." By "making her happy," he meant throwing her a party.
The theme of the party was "The Princess's Royal Feast." While Isidore was out for the entire day, he gathered a group of handsome young men and beautiful women in their twenties, all dressed exaggeratively, and brought them together in his villa.
The household servants and security didn't dare to say anything.
The lively atmosphere brought Eloise a long-awaited sense of joy. She excitedly asked Cyrus where he had found so many people. He shrugged, "I had the driver drive the convertible Bentley around the major nightclubs. These people just got into the car on their own."
Eloise emerged in elaborate European court attire, and immediately a young handsome man approached, inviting her to dance. She waved her fan, hesitated for a moment, and then, unable to refuse his polite insistence, placed her hand in his, a low, angry growl sounded from behind, "All of you, get out."
As Cyrus had predicted, he was probably going to be locked up by Isidore for the rest of his life. Eloise tried to plead on his behalf, but failed. She turned away angrily, "I'm not a criminal! Try being locked in a room all day long and see how you feel!"
Isidore, who had been wearing a cold expression, softened his voice and said: "It's because the danger hasn't been completely dealt with yet…" "What danger? Whose danger? When will it be solved? What's the progress?" Eloise shot back in rapid succession.
Isidore looked at her and sighed, "Alright, you can go out, but only if Charlie follows you." The smile that had just begun to curl on Eloise's lips was quickly dampened by the next sentence, as if a cold splash of water had been thrown over her.
He probably thought she was being childish and often dragged his beloved boss into trouble. Now he had to have his right-hand man stoop so low as her bodyguard. While Charlie was polite to Eloise, he couldn't muster a friendly face.
Once, Eloise stayed too long in the fitting room. Charlie, unable to find her, nearly went mad. When she came out and they were back in the car, he complained, "Miss Devereux, whether it's for the boss or his people, procrastination is a deadly habit."
Eloise was taken aback and defensively retorted, "I'm just taking my time, what's wrong with that?"
Charlie paused, then continued, "If the boss hadn't been delayed that day, we might've captured that man alive. There's no need to waste time now searching for the mastermind behind him, making everyone stay on edge."
Eloise was angry, "If you're not happy, you don't have to follow me!" Charlie didn't say a word as he started the car. Eloise wasn't the type to complain, but she had her own way of letting off steam.
The next day, she went to a custom nail salon and purposely said, "Sir, do you allow unrelated people to stay here? Is this a market or a nail salon?" The boss, looking awkward, had no choice but to ask Charlie to leave.
Following Isidore's orders, Charlie was to ensure that, except for bathroom breaks, Eloise was never left alone in any unfamiliar space. Gritting his teeth, he mustered the courage to say: "Who's an unrelated person? I'll get my nails done too."
He hesitated, slowly extending his large, knotted hands. After a long moment of indecision, he finally picked a simple design, one that closely resembled the color of the original armor, his face a picture of inner turmoil. Eloise struggled to stifle her laughter, her cheeks aching from holding it in.
After finishing, he stepped out and got into the car. Resting on the steering wheel were a pair of long, delicate, flesh-pink nails on the man's hand. Eloise couldn't help but admire how Charlie managed to maintain his stoic face. "Miss Devereux, where to next?"
Eloise was about to speak when her phone rang. She frowned after reading the message, then gave an address to a cheap beverage shop. When they arrived, she got out of the car and hurried inside. A weary-looking young man was sitting in a booth towards the back.
Eloise walked toward him. "Octavius, what do you mean by saying your brother is missing?"
