No More Waiting, She Chooses Love
Chapter 694

At that moment, I felt an unexpected warmth rush to my cheeks, realizing he had deftly turned the tables on me with his charm. He appeared so composed and serious, making me think he was just a novice in this game, only to reveal himself as a master player. How intriguing!

A sly smile played at the corner of my lips as I tried to maintain a collected demeanor, unaffected by the situation. "You're overthinking it," I said. With that, I set down my oatmeal bowl and left the breakfast nook, heading to the living room to watch TV. Phipps, unfazed, casually wiped the oatmeal splatter from his shirt and began tidying up the table. He washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen before finally speaking up, "Mind if I use the bathroom?"

"Go ahead!" I replied, not meeting his gaze. For some reason, his offhanded joke had left me unable to look him in the eye. Maybe deep down, I did want him to stay, and his words had hit a nerve, making me feel exposed...

"I need to take a shower," Phipps added, drawing my attention back to him. His demeanor was so assured, as if any misunderstanding would be my fault. Noticing the oatmeal still in his hair, I merely grunted in acknowledgment.

"Got any spare clothes?" he asked boldly. I closed my eyes, tempted to say no, but then I heard him add, "Old ones will do." He didn't mention Ernest by name, but the implication was clear. Other than Ernest's old clothes, I had no one else's here.

His audacity and candor made me

look at him with a mix of irritation, yet his gaze was so open that it made me second-guess my annoyance. Indeed, when someone is that transparent, it's hard to misinterpret their intentions. found myself in that position, wanting to accuse him of overstepping, yet the words wouldn't come out. "I'll replace something for you," I said.

As I pulled out one of Ernest's shirts, I immediately regretted it. How could I let someone else wear Ernest's clothes? Yet, thinking of

Phipps and his resemblance to net

Ernest, curiosity got the better of me I wanted to see if he would look

even more like Ernest in his clothes.

It was a twisted thought, reminding myself that Phipps wasn't Ernest while simultaneously wanting him to be. Just as I hesitated over handing the clothes to Phipps, the doorbell rang.

Holding Ernest's shirt, I went to the door and saw through the peephole that it was Conrad. What could he be doing here at this hour? As I pondered, Conrad began knocking, "Felicia, open up. I need to talk to you."

His voice was slurred, and his demeanor suggested he'd been drinking. Dealing with a drunk was the last thing I wanted, so I planned to ignore him. But then I heard him say, "Felicia, I just wanted to make sure you weren't hurt. I heard about your accident, that you got hit by a car."

The only person who knew about my accident was Phipps, as I hadn't told anyone else, not even Fanny. Now Conrad showing up at my door asking about my injuries? How did he replace out? Or was he somehow involved?

Though it seemed unlikely, I couldn't help but unlock the door, immediately hit by a wave of alcohol fumes. "Conrad, where did you hear I was in an accident?" I asked him directly. He grabbed me, looking me over from head to toe, "Are you hurt anywhere?"