Atrophy of Love: Mr. Harris, Stop Fooling Around! novel Chapter 206

Victor Hemingway looked at the crystal-clear cup of tea. “It must be good tea if it’s personally made by Mr. Harris.”

With that, he picked up the teacup and took a sip.

“I’ve been troubling Dr. Hemingway with my girlfriend’s leg. I wouldn’t dare to neglect taking care of you,” said Charles Harris.

Sophia White Frowned. She did not like it when Charles Harris referred to her as his girlfriend or his woman, but he seemed to enjoy using these terms recently, especially when facing Dr. Hemingway.

“Neglect or no neglect, Mr. Harris, I would do my best to treat Miss White’s leg. However, I wouldn’t dare to guarantee if her leg would ever recover enough to be back to normal,” Vincent Hemingway placed his teacup down.

Sophia White’s lips turned a little pale when she heard the last sentence as she grasped the corner of her sleeve.

“I heard that Dr. Hemingway’s mentor is an expert in this field?” The look in Charles Harris’ eyes darkened.

Victor Hemingway glanced at him. “I’ve consulted a few mentors about this. If it wasn’t for that night on the rooftop, my mentor and I would have guaranteed Miss White’s leg could be treated back to normal, but now, all my mentor told me was to pray as often as I can to God.”

He paused a moment. There was a slight look of sarcasm on his face. “Have Mr. Harris ever thought that this day would come when you broke Miss White’s leg?”

The light in Charles Harris’ eyes dimmed somewhat as his hand could not help clinking continuously on the teacup he was holding.

“The tea wouldn’t taste good once it’s cold,” this topic of conversation was like a bunch of wet cotton being pushed into Sophia White’s heart and blocking it. She took over Vincent Hemingway’s teacup and poured him another cup of tea, changing the topic of conversation.

Charles Harris crossed his legs and placed his hands on his knees. He seemed to be deep in thought and did not say anything else.

Vincent Hemingway got up not long after and said, “I have something to attend to. I’ll take my leave.”

“Okay,” Sophia White stood up and walked him to the door. Charles Harris followed behind him.

Vincent Hemingway did not leave immediately after starting the engine. He wound down his window and said to Charles Harris, “It’s not suitable for Miss White to be walking too much with her current stage of treatment. It would be best if Mr. Harris is able to get her a driver.”

“Thank you, Dr. Hemingway, for being so concerned over my girlfriend,” Charles Harris smirked at him while placing his hands over Sophia White’s shoulders.

Sophia White struggled against it subtly, but he was too strong. She was unable to push him off and her body stiffened nervously.

“You’re welcome,” the corner of Vincent Hemingway’s eye raised slightly as he stepped onto the accelerator and left.

The last polite smile on Sophia White’s face vanished. She pushed her elbow into Charles Harris’ abdomen, which had yet to heal. While he winced from the pain, she took the opportunity to push him away and got into the villa, heading upstairs.

Charles Harris followed behind her and entered the villa, saying to her back, “I’ve said it before, stop avoiding me or I can’t guarantee what I would end up doing.”

Sophia White stopped in her steps when she heard this. She clenched her hands into a fist, even her lower jaw tightened, as if trying her very best to hold something back.

She paused momentarily, taking in a deep breath, and walked back downstairs. She sat silently on the sofa.

They looked at each other silently. Charles Harris poured away the cold tea in Sophia White’s teacup and poured her another cup of hot tea, but she did not drink it. He pushed the plate of fruits toward her, but she had no intention of having any as well.

He unbuttoned his sleeves and pushed them up, revealing his nice-looking forearm. However, there were gloomy looks on his handsome, angular face even though he was under the sun.

“I’ll get engaged with Leah in a month’s time, at the latest,” Charles Harris rubbed between his brows. He seemed to look a little tired.

On the surface, it looked like his grandfather placed importance on him, but the Harris family and the higher management of the Harris Corporation knew that he was given the position because his grandfather wanted to make use of his ability to generate a profit.

In other words, he was nothing but a money-making puppet to the Harris family, which was a huge difference from Leah’s position within the Jones family. Otherwise, it would have been impossible for him to not see Sophia White in the last two years.

Although, no matter how little shares he had for the Harris Corporation, the position of CEO was still quite tempting. Once his grandfather was dead, he would become the chairman and there would be a higher chance of him taking full control of the entire Harris Corporation.

Otherwise, influential families such as the Jones’ family would not view him as a good candidate for marriage.

Charles Harris looked at the three cups of cold tea on the table. He stood up and placed the kettle and teacups onto the tray and brought it into the kitchen.

Everything would be much easier once his grandfather was dead…

He poured the teacups directly into the sink. One of the teacups rolled out from the side and shattered when it hit the floor, but he did not even turn to look as he lowered his head to wash the teacups in the sink.

The next day, Charles Harris did not head upstairs to knock on her door. Sophia White sat on her bed in a daze when she woke up at 6 am. She waited until it was 9 am before heading downstairs.

The dining room was clean and tidy, with only a piece of note seen.

[The wedding invitation has been prepared. You can come along with me to the wedding on that day.

There is food in the kitchen. You can heat it up in the microwave. Look it up online if you have no idea how to use it. The two housekeepers in charge of the cleaning will arrive at 10 am. You can ask them too.]

The handwriting was vigorous and powerful, with an air of dominance that was difficult to hide, just like he was, always giving others a sense of being invaded.