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Mr. Fu's Wife Reincarnated

International negotiator, Evelyn Cobb, was framed and killed. After waking up, she found herself in the body of a newly engaged female college student. When she first confronted her fiance, Christopher Robinson, his tone was cold and aggressive. "If you're obedient, you can stay. If you're not, I'll leave you." When she next confronted him, it was on stage during the International Collegiate Debate Competition at Capital University. She looked at Christopher Robinson, the judge below the stage, and asked in a firm voice, "Mr. Fu, what is marriage to you?" "It is all about mutual benefits," Christopher Robinson answered. Rumor had it that Christopher Robinson, the prince of the business world, married a beautiful wife. Little did he expect his wife to hold a knife to his throat on their wedding night. "In 2009, Evelyn Cobb, an international negotiator, went to Emarica for negotiations with her team. Their plane crashed on the way back. Did you have anything to do with it?" Christopher Robinson's heart shuddered. His suspicions had been confirmed. He looked helplessly at Evelyn Cobb. "I was behind it." Before getting married, she was a pawn on his chessboard. After getting married, she became a medicine he couldn't stop taking. There were rumors that the Jiang family's youngest daughter had no talent. Huh? How should I act? Evelyn Cobb thought. [From being indifferent to being absolutely obsessed with you. The female lead is smart and talented. Step by step, she's getting closer to the truth behind her death.] Conception: Loving yourself is the prerequisite for being loved by someone else.

Li Buyan · Thành thị
Không đủ số lượng người đọc
796 Chs

259: What kind of medicine did you take?_2

Amelia Cobb was washing the seafood, and the sound of the brush echoed intermittently in the kitchen.

Her loose hair fell by the temples, and there was a sense of tranquility about her that came from stepping down from a high position.

At 6:45 pm, the sun had not yet set.

Amelia left the stove, squeezed a glass of watermelon juice, and gave it to Christopher Robinson, who was reading a document with his head down.

A soft thank you slipped from the man's lips.

Amelia held the glass and leaned against the kitchen door, while the oven hummed behind her.

In this dining room at dusk, surrounded by the fragrance of flowers and the mellow French songs, she had the urge to have a heart-to-heart talk.

Perhaps it was the sense of security she had long missed that she saw in Christopher.

Or maybe it was her inner low spirits wanting to find an outlet.

So, she took a sip of watermelon juice, moistened her throat, and said, "I met an old acquaintance today."

Christopher respected her.