the two-faced Adopted Girl Who Melted CEO's Ice-Cold Heart
Chapter 223 I Hate It When Others Touch My Belongings

Ignatius Leclair noticed her coming down, barefooted without socks, her hair still damp, and her reddened eyes. His sharp brows instantly furrowed, and he turned to the butler and said, "Light the fireplace." Although it was late autumn and there was a chill in the air, it wasn’t cold enough to warrant using the fireplace. The old butler glanced at Miss Delphine and immediately nodded, then instructed the servants to light coal pellets for warmth.

This fireplace was used most often during the old matriarch’s time. Back then, the matriarch was graceful and romantic to her core, and when her grandchildren were young, her favorite thing was reading lively bedtime stories to them by the fireplace, teaching them to recognize words and understand truth. After her passing, the fireplace gradually fell out of use. When the weather turned cold, the family used underfloor heating instead, especially since winters in the South Asia region weren’t particularly harsh.

The old butler sighed lightly. During the matriarch’s time, the Leclair Family residence was at its warmest and most tender. Over the years, the household had turned into a frigid, hollow space, capable of swallowing people whole.

Ambrose River, who had been kneeling on the ground this whole time, saw Delphine Carter coming down from upstairs and was so terrified that his soul nearly fled from his body. His obese frame shook like a sieve. If he’d known she was Ignatius’s woman, he wouldn’t have dared to lay a finger on her, not even with ten times his courage.

"Where did we leave off?" Ignatius finally spoke leisurely, glancing at Maximilian.

"Sir Leclair, it was Yvonne Wade who gave me the money and instructed me to invest in Gaston’s production crew. She was the one who told me to cause trouble for Miss Delphine. Those mercenaries were hired by her." The fat man had completely lost all hope. He kept kowtowing furiously, his voice hoarse and desperate as he wailed, "Sir Leclair, please spare my wretched life! On behalf of the Shaw Family, just exile me from South Asia!"

"Nonsense!" Yvonne Wade’s face turned pale, her body swaying as if she might collapse. Impossible. She was a pampered daughter of the Wade Family. Even if she did plan all this, the Leclair Family would have to respect the Wade Family and wouldn’t dare touch her.

Meanwhile, Maximilian, who had been waiting nearby, could no longer suppress himself. As Ignatius fixed his gaze on him, he quickly presented the gathered evidence and spoke in a low voice, "We’ve investigated Ambrose’s accounts, as well as Miss Wade’s interpersonal activities over the past fortnight. It’s been confirmed that ten days ago, Ambrose suddenly invested in the production crew, becoming the associate producer. The funds transferred to Ambrose’s account came from a distant relative of the Wade Family. The South Asia mercenaries arrived three days ago. Old Six has already interrogated them, and they’ve confessed—the person who hired them was the Wade Family."

Each matter, every point—there was a clear line of evidence. Moreover, for someone like Yvonne Wade, a wealthy heiress, she had left too many traces when carrying out these plans.

Yvonne Wade’s legs gave way, and she collapsed to the ground, suddenly bursting into tears. Sobbing uncontrollably, she clung desperately to Bessie Leclair’s leg and pleaded, "Bessie, say something! It wasn’t me! It really wasn’t me!"

Wasn’t this supposed to be foolproof? According to the plan, Ignatius Leclair wouldn’t have returned to South Asia yet. By tomorrow morning, Ambrose River would have flown to America, and those mercenaries would have vanished from South Asia, leaving no trace. How could it have come to this?

Wasn’t Ignatius supposed to have abandoned that woman? Why was this happening?

"What can I say? You actually went and did something so reckless." Bessie Leclair, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, hurriedly distanced herself, saying, "If your father finds out, he’s going to kill you."

Yes, her father—she needed to find her father. In a panic, Yvonne Wade fumbled for her phone. Her bag fell to the ground, but before she could pick it up, Ignatius crushed it under his foot.

Lowering his gaze, his handsome face, perfectly crafted like a work of art, seemed cold and merciless as he spoke deeply and sternly, "I despise anyone touching my belongings."