Chapter 32
Eugene also thought that Adora was behaving rather unreasonably.
Since he had just helped her assemble the cabinet, he felt entitled to step in and persuade her.
“Adora, can’t you eat in your room? The smell is too strong.
Her lips were tinged red from the spice, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
Her complexion looked rosier than usual.
Upon hearing his words, she looked up at him, her delicate features resembling a painting.
In that instant, Eugene was hit with a wave of nostalgia, memories of their past sweetness flashing through his mind.
“There’s fuel here. What if I set the house on fire?” she asked innocently.
Theodore had already lost millions in the stock market today.
He was barely holding back his frustration, and at her words, he slammed his utensils on the table with a loud bang!
“If you know it’s unsafe, then why are you still eating that? What’s wrong with the food sent to you? What’s lacking in it?”
Adora smiled, the dish far too spicy, making her take a sharp breath.
Yet, she still said, “Dad, just because you got burned in the stock market doesn’t mean you can take it out on me.”
That was truly hitting where it hurt.
Theodore kicked over a chair and stormed upstairs in fury.
In the end, even the study was filled with the lingering aroma of spicy meat stew–it was everywhere!
That night, the Matthews family was once again in turmoil.
At the next family meeting, everyone came together, brainstorming ways to kick Adora out of the house.
But they also feared provoking her too much–what if she really went live and exposed everything to the media, ruining the
family’s reputation?
Upstairs, they were in chaos, discussing strategies.
Meanwhile, in her little corner, Adora was setting up her new computer, listening to music.
Now that she had a computer, she no longer felt bored at night, even when curled up in the small servant’s quarters.
The stock market took a dive today and was trending.
The forums were buzzing, though it felt more like a chorus of despair.
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Chapter 32
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Adora skimmed through a few representative market analyses, browsed international news, then pondered for a moment before composing her own commentary on the current market conditions.
Unexpectedly, the moment she posted it, a comment appeared.
Looking closely, it was from none other than the White–Coat Deity.
“Hah, he got off work early today. Must’ve lost a lot and is looking for comfort on the forum.”
White–Coat Deity was always the opposition.
His comment was just two words: “Fake news.”
In other words, he thought Adora’s analysis was wrong–basically accusing her of spreading misinformation.
Adora sneered in disdain.
The Market Gods group chat had been active since the market closed at 3 p.m.
But she’d been too busy assembling her wardrobe and desk in the afternoon to join in.
Now, seeing that the White–Coat Deity was online, she couldn’t help but open the app.
She was curious–after losing money, would he still be as stubborn?
The chat was buzzing with discussion.
White–Coat Deity was indeed present, but his last message was posted ten minutes ago.
Madame Lee tagged White–Coat Deity. “You said I’m spreading fake news. Don’t tell me you actually bought the dip today?”
Miles responded, “Madame Lee is finally here.”
Mason asked, “What fake news?”
Coach Ryan joined in, “Madame Lee just posted a market analysis, and White–Coat was the first to comment. He called it fake
news.”
He added a facepalm emoji for effect.
Adora stared at the screen and chuckled.
So, Coach Ryan had been lurking on the forums too, keeping an eye on her market posts the moment they dropped.
Elliot responded, “Oh, I see. Let me check out Madame Lee’s post.”
Miles followed up, “Why isn’t White–Coat saying anything now?”
On the other end of the screen, Louis stepped out of the bathroom, his toned upper body bare.
He dried his hair with one hand while scrolling through the forum on his phone with the other, still reading stock analyses.
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In the living room, a handsome little boy sat on the couch, munching on a chicken drumstick.
When he saw Louis, he grinned mischievously.
“Uncle Louts, you’re so good–looking. How come you don’t have a girlfriend?”
Louis tossed the towel aside, sat down on the sofa, and asked indifferently, “Do you?”
“Of course! I have three–two in preschool and one in kindergarten.”
The boy puffed out his chest proudly.
