the two-faced Adopted Girl Who Melted CEO's Ice-Cold Heart
Chapter 192: Over the years, how have you not changed at all, still with the same cold heart and indifference as Aurora Coldwell.

Chapter 192: Chapter 192: Over the years, how have you not changed at all, still with the same cold heart and indifference as Aurora Coldwell.

Delphine followed his gaze and noticed a shocking bruise blooming on her wrist.

Her skin was too fair, too delicate—any bit of pressure would leave a mark.

She looked down without speaking, a sudden wave of disillusionment and coldness washing over her. The man who had bullied her was still kneeling in the Yeager estate’s courtyard. When she arrived earlier, just the mention of Ignatius Leclair’s name had scared him senseless.

This was the benefit of power. She had been on the receiving end of power’s oppression before and knew all too well how it felt.

Ignatius saw her remain silent, her expression carrying a hint of detachment. Though she was physically close to him, it felt as if she was miles away.

Without a word, the man, his gaze dark and brooding, led her into the lounge.

"I’ll go find some medicine for you. Stay here and don’t wander off." Ignatius looked at her, his eyes an unfathomable abyss.

Delphine nodded, her gaze drifting elsewhere, gazing out the window.

Ignatius left the lounge and leaned against the wall. His tall and commanding frame exuded a suffocating aura, and his strikingly handsome face was locked in impenetrable stillness.

Maximilian waited nearby and softly reported the situation.

Hearing that Griffith Squire had ultimately stepped in to subdue those people, Ignatius’s brows furrowed deeply, a trace of gloom flashing through his expression.

Given his position, even if he had been there, he couldn’t have intervened like Griffith—taking a man’s approach to protect a woman.

"Go fetch some bruise ointment. Tomorrow morning, acquire the Sinclair family business before Griffith has a chance to act. Use my name." Ignatius spoke lightly, his tone devoid of emotion.

Maximilian nodded, instantly understanding. Ignatius was putting significant effort into shielding Miss Delphine. By the time the Leclair Family’s acquisition of Sinclair’s enterprises hit the news tomorrow morning, it would serve as a clear and unmistakable warning.

Anyone who dared to trouble Miss Delphine from then on would have to consider carefully whether their family had the capacity to oppose Ignatius Leclair.

The shrewd assistant couldn’t help but note: both Griffith and Ignatius had mastered the art of exploiting their opponents’ weaknesses, striking with precision and ruthlessness.

"And the Wade Family? Are we still leaving them unchecked?" Maximilian asked. After all, the root cause of the trouble was the Wade family’s eldest daughter.

A cold gleam flickered in Ignatius’s eyes as he replied in a low, cryptic voice, "Eventually, it’ll be dealt with."

After waiting outside for a while, Ignatius finally re-entered with the ointment in hand.

Delphine was on the phone, her voice soft and a bit listless, carrying a rare touch of sweetness and vulnerability.

Leah’s indignant voice came through on the other end, as if she wished she could scratch Delphine’s face with her nails out of frustration.

"I was starting to think you’d changed your last name to ’Punching Bag’! Letting people bend and squeeze you however they please. Do you see anyone daring to mess with me? Against those kinds of lowlifes, you need to hit them just once—so hard they’ll feel the pain for a lifetime."

Delphine lay sprawled on the lounge sofa, propping her head up with her hand, feigning grievance as she replied, "I did hit her. My hand even hurts from it."

"Pfft. Go cry to your man." Leah almost choked on her own saliva. "Whine a little, act all spoiled, then go ahead and milk his affection for all it’s worth!"

Delphine’s gaze flickered slightly. She blinked and said, "I wouldn’t dare. If I act out too much, people might end up dead."

Leah: "..."

Out of the corner of her eye, Delphine saw the man’s silhouette. Sitting upright, she promptly ended the call.

Ignatius walked up to her and, bending down on one knee, reached for her wrist. His handsome face showed no expression as he methodically applied the ointment.

Delphine flinched slightly. Looking down at his sharp, austere face so close to hers, she raised her free left hand, reaching out to touch the bridge of his high nose. Quietly, she murmured, "How is it you haven’t changed at all over the years?"

Still as striking, still as taciturn yet domineering, still cold-hearted, still Aurora Coldwell.

"I’ve changed a lot." A fleeting curve appeared at the corner of his lips, and a trace of warmth glimmered in his eyes.

He wasn’t one to enjoy physical closeness, but when she touched his nose so gently, the sensation seemed to ripple through his heart. For a moment, even his hardened core grew just a little softer.

Ignatius kneaded her bruised wrist lightly and slowly. But as he continued, he pressed her back into the sofa and kissed her deeply and fiercely.

Delphine was left breathless, her tongue numb from the kiss. Dazed and muddled, she abruptly heard the sound of a door opening.

The lounge door was suddenly pushed open from the outside.

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