the two-faced Adopted Girl Who Melted CEO's Ice-Cold Heart-Chapter 795: The Face Swollen from Being Slapped
Ignatius Leclair’s gaze darkened as he stared at the two identical wedding rings before him. So it turns out everything Griffith had said was true—it’s almost impossible to eradicate a personality. A dormant personality can awaken under specific circumstances.
This time, his second personality had awakened, without sharing its memories with him, and had slipped the custom-made ring onto Delphine’s finger.
He was using this method to declare his sovereignty.
Ignatius’s face turned ashen. After the initial panic, he quickly regained composure. So what exactly was Magnus’s objective in returning this time? Was he vying for control of his body? Competing for Delphine? Seeking to take everything away from him?
Throughout over thirty years of his life, he had faced countless opponents without ever flinching or yielding—but this time, his opponent turned out to be himself.
Ignatius took the ring Magnus had prepared out of its box and threw it straight into the garden downstairs from the balcony. Standing on the balcony at dusk, the man’s lips curled into a sardonic smile.
Then, Ignatius placed his own custom ring on the dressing table and called Griffith.
As an aging bachelor, Griffith’s daily routine after work consisted of reading at home and taking care of his dog. When he received Ignatius’s call, he almost dropped his phone in shock. He had assumed this young master of the Leclair Family would never seek him out for psychological counseling again—after all, Ignatius was notoriously domineering and self-righteous, a man who would never willingly listen to advice or adopt someone else’s perspective.
Griffith drove to the villa, arriving while it was still relatively early—just eight o’clock. He had practically skipped dinner, managing only two bites before rushing over.
The first time he treated this young master, Ignatius had just sent his own father to prison and been exposed as having dual personalities. The second time, Ignatius held a press conference to relinquish his claim to the Leclair Family inheritance, paving the way for his younger brother to take over. Every time, the occasion had been marked by earth-shattering events.
Griffith couldn’t possibly imagine what shocking actions would accompany this third visit.
Stepping out of his car, he immediately saw the tall and slender silhouette of the man standing under the portico. Handsome features, but with the dim lighting—the twilight blending with the faint, overly yellow glow of the ground lamps—Griffith couldn’t make out his expression.
The forty-year-old psychologist felt a surge of excitement in his chest. Was Ignatius specially waiting outside to greet him? Such aristocratic decorum! Truly, the manners of a wealthy heir were on a different level. He must have been prejudiced earlier—this young master seemed extraordinary indeed.
"Daddy, Daddy, Benjamin’s back!" A soft, sugary voice rang out. A little girl in pink dashed past Griffith, joyfully flinging herself into the embrace of the tall, handsome man under the portico.
The man scooped up the little girl, playfully pinching her tiny nose, before extending his hand to help the young boy who was approaching. Without saying another word, he led the two children directly into the living room, not sparing Griffith so much as a glance.
Griffith stood there, feeling a metaphorical slap to his face—and then saw Howard’s eldest son limping past him, heading into the living room.
The eldest son of the Howard Family, his face bruised and swollen, clutched his waist and cursed Griffith Squire as he walked, spouting insults such as "black-hearted bastard," "vicious scoundrel," "gang leader," and even "damn turtle spawn."
Griffith remained frozen stiff in the night breeze, unable to move.
So, the fearsome, cold-blooded eldest son of the Squire Family from Southeast Asia lives next door?
Oh my god, birds of a feather truly flock together. Griffith wanted to go home.
"Dr. Griffith." Ignatius had escorted the two little ones upstairs, and upon seeing Griffith still standing dazed under the portico, furrowed his brows and said in his deep voice, "Please, the study is upstairs."
