His Wife Calls The Shots
Chapter 1337: Admiring Each Other _1

Chapter 1337: Chapter 1337: Admiring Each Other _1

This tone that wasn’t too high or low, was just enough to stir Tristan Collins’ emotions.

But this time, he didn’t burst into rage and yell like he used to. Instead, he managed to suppress his anger.

His voice carried a touch of harmony: "After all, there’s no overnight hatred between father and daughter. Come sit down, let’s have a good talk!"

A person used to authority, even when softened, always carries a trace of hardness.

"Talk?" Chloe Collins gave a faint, ironic smile.

Tristan Collins gradually said, "As a major shareholder of King, you should not have kept this secret from me. You are a descendant of the Collinses, and it’s your duty to strengthen the family. Today, we’ll talk about this. Whatever you want, you can bring it up, as long as you cooperate with me."

The atmosphere suddenly became quiet.

Chloe Collins pinched her brow, closed the door, and didn’t come out.

Tristan Collins’ brow twitched, an aura of gloom radiating from his body.

He still didn’t lose his temper. The dark, cold air was gradually retracted, his eyes revealing a tolerance bearing great humiliation.

The driver stood outside for a while, then couldn’t help but walk in.

"Sir, why don’t we go home for today? The young lady’s temper doesn’t seem to have subsided."

Tristan Collins narrowed his eyes, waved his hand, and asked him to leave.

The driver retreated helplessly.

At this moment, streams of water flew from the side, wetting Tristan Collins’ face and shirt!

He startled, wiping his face, "Is it raining?"

The driver chuckled awkwardly, "Sir, you see..."

Tristan Collins turned his head and saw two kids firing a large water gun at him.

"Stop it! Whose kids are these? They’re so impolite!"

The driver stepped in front of him, tried to take away the water guns, but didn’t react fast enough and was soaked instead.

Rupert Frost and Brent Frost laughed gleefully, mischief in their eyes. Even after spraying the water, they made faces at Tristan Collins: "Na-na-na-na-na..."

This pissed off Tristan Collins. While wiping his face, he had the driver find their parents to talk to.

The two kids were extremely arrogant though, "Our parents aren’t home! Ha-ha-ha..."

"They are working and don’t have time for us, na-na-na..."

Tristan Collins didn’t want to argue with kids, he merely said: "There are parents who only have children but don’t bring them up properly! Raising children with such wild and untamed manners, it’s a parental failure!"

As his words fell, some chord in his mind was inexplicably struck and he fell silent.

The children kept spraying water in his face, but he had no reaction.

Shortly, the kids got bored and ran off.

The driver ran in with a towel: "Sir, wipe yourself."

Tristan Collins sat contemplatively and then suddenly slumped on a chair, his eyes clouded.

"Alright, you can wait outside."

The driver nodded in agreement.

Tristan Collins sat alone on the stone bench, sometimes shaking his head, sometimes chuckling, sometimes laughing mockingly at himself.

The driver saw it all but didn’t know what he was thinking. He only heard him mutter, "Your daughter... she’s really something."

The driver knew about Tristan Collins’ habit of talking to himself, mostly to his deceased wife, so he didn’t find it strange.

Tristan Collins waited for two hours. Chloe didn’t come out, but a delivery man arrived.

The delivery guy came in with the food, and before he knocked on the door, saw them and put the food down.

Tristan Collins intercepted the meal and placed it on the table.

After a while, he opened the takeout, and the tantalizing fragrance wafted out.

At first glance, he saw a plate of red oil that made him frown.

He couldn’t help picking at the red oil with chopsticks, picking up a chunk that looked like meat but wasn’t quite. His brows furrowed even deeper.