I Want a Divorce Every Day, But the Superstar Says No-Chapter 86: Does This Feel Like an Affair?

Mentioning Durrell Landon, Simon Storm’s eyes involuntarily filled with layer upon layer of darkness, even his tone dropped a few notches.

"Cece, what’s really going on between you and Mr. Landon?"

Quiana Sutton turned her head, eyes settling on the endless clouds outside the window, clearly distracted. "Uncle, I don’t want to talk about anything right now."

This was the first time Simon Storm felt this way: she was inside a hazy mist, while he was outside of it; there was an invisible wall between them.

He didn’t press her; instead, he walked to the side, lifted the piano lid, and played for a while.

The fleeting light of sunset faded, and the twilight sun quietly poured through the window onto her face. The sunset reddened her cheeks, and even seemed to tinge her eyes with red.

Seeing this, Simon Storm paused slightly, unconsciously hitting a few wrong notes.

On the other side.

Durrell Landon stood by the window, his back to Julian Haworth and Oliver Gale, yet Julian could still feel the chill radiating from Durrell’s body.

Julian, feeling the pressure, finally spoke up: "Durrell, you’ve been standing for nearly a few hours now. Why don’t you sit for a bit?"

"No need."

Oliver Gale lounged on the sofa, a bit bored, slowly lighting himself a cigarette, and said with a faint smile:

"Alright, just let him stand there."

When you’re in a bad mood, you always need somewhere to vent.

As soon as he finished, Durrell Landon came over to sit by his side, and lit a cigarette for himself as well. Seeing this, Oliver couldn’t help but comment:

"Tsk... This is rare... It’s not often I see you smoke..."

"I just don’t like the smell, doesn’t mean I can’t."

The glowing tip of the cigarette flickered, and behind the coils of blue-white smoke was the man’s somber yet strikingly handsome face.

Julian Haworth really couldn’t stand the oppressive atmosphere in the room. He tentatively suggested, "How about we play a game or something?"

Durrell Landon ignored him, just gave him a bland glance.

Julian: "..."

Was it his imagination? Why did he feel like Durrell just looked at him with utter disdain? And maybe even the urge to tell him to get lost.

Wait, that’s not right—this is his villa, why should he go???!!!

Wuwuwu...

It must be that Durrell is just too intimidating.

...

Night deepened.

The bright moonlight spilled over the lawn of Platinum Residence, adding a chill to the villa district.

Durrell Landon had no intention of sleeping; he just stood quietly by the window, watching the world below.

Just then, a figure passed beneath the window. He narrowed his eyes in surprise, realizing that the person walking outside was Quiana Sutton.

Without a second thought, he grabbed a jacket and hurried downstairs, out the door.

Out for a walk because she couldn’t sleep, Quiana suddenly sensed a pair of eyes pinned to her. She frowned, about to react, but the next moment she was pulled over and pinned against a wall; before she could process it, someone was already tasting her lips.

Feeling Durrell Landon’s breath, Quiana slowly lowered the hand she had raised, ready to strike.

When both of them were breathless, only then did Durrell let go of her hand. He looked down at her:

"Figured you’d take a swing at me."

Quiana looked up at him. "What are you doing here?"

Durrell explained briefly, "Julian has a villa here at the Platinum Residence, I’m staying with him."

"You’re staying with him because you don’t trust me?"

"What do you think?"

As he spoke, there was a note of gritted teeth in his voice; yet no matter how angry or domineering he was, his actions remained gentle. Quiana stared at his flawless jawline, feeling a sudden sweetness and warmth bloom within her.

"Tell me, does this give a little thrill—like having an affair?"

Durrell looked a bit annoyed. "We’re perfectly aboveboard—no need to sneak around."

Hearing this, Quiana couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle. "Right, we’re openly together."

Simon Storm’s room was nearly at the center of the villa district, overlooking nearly all the roads below.

So, he saw everything—Durrell Landon and Quiana Sutton’s encounter out on the street.

His face, unreadable at first, was now shrouded in a frigid white mist, the usual warmth and gentleness nowhere to be found—what remained was only a chilling dread.

After her walk, Quiana came back to find Simon Storm sitting on the living room couch, reading through a stack of documents. She was a little startled:

"Uncle, it’s so late—you’re still up?"

Simon looked up at her; his face betrayed no emotion, his tone was flat: "You’re out walking so late, and your uncle being awake at this hour seems so unreasonable?"

She was at a loss for words. "N-no, it’s not."

After a pause, she continued, "Uncle, I’m heading to bed now."

She turned to go back to her room, but Simon Storm called out to stop her.

"Wait."

She paused, looking at Simon in confusion.

Simon slowly stood up, walking towards Quiana step by step. His voice was deep and low, like thunder lurking in the spring air—ready to crash at any moment.

"Cece, as far as I know, before Durrell Landon married you, the one he always loved was Evelyn Windsor. Why is it that less than a month after Evelyn left, he married you? Are you sure he married you because he loved you?"

She wasn’t surprised her uncle could investigate all that.

She took a deep breath. When she married Durrell Landon, it wasn’t because she was in love with him either. In those days before the marriage, her life was like that of the living dead—she had no sense of self, no idea what her existence was worth, every day was unbearably dull, and at times she barely held on to live.

It was at that time that Durrell Landon suddenly walked into her life, making it not so meaningless anymore.

"Uncle, he was in a car accident and forgot many things from before. Now, I believe the person he loves is me."

"And love is something that can just be forgotten? That only proves he didn’t love enough—or that he’s quick to move on."

Quiana: "..."

Her uncle really seemed to hold a grudge against Durrell Landon.

She rubbed her forehead, a bit of a headache. "Uncle, even though our beginning wasn’t so beautiful, it doesn’t mean he’s not truly sincere with me now."

Because Quiana defended Durrell Landon so much, Simon Storm’s eyes only darkened further.

"Cece, do you really like him now?"

She wasn’t so hopelessly in love as to lose herself, but she couldn’t claim to be totally indifferent, either.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her uncle—just instinct told her not to say otherwise.

So she nodded firmly.

"Yes."

As the words fell, Simon Storm’s pitch-black eyes showed a faint sign of cracking, as if his whole emotional world was about to shatter.

"Cece, if you love him so much, then if one day he remembers everything and no longer loves you—what then?"

"If he really doesn’t love me anymore, then I’ll let go."

After hearing that, Simon only let out a chilly laugh, said no more, and returned to his own room, closing the door behind him.

The door closed tightly, as if dividing two separate worlds.

...