Mr. Law's Official Announcement: He is a Wife-Doting Fanatic!

Cecilia Vaughn couldn’t believe her eyes as she stared at Zion Prescott for several moments, then turned her gaze towards Claire Sinclair’s little boyfriend.

”Doctor Prescott, you and Jude Grant... are actually uncle and nephew? You don’t look like it...”

Zion Prescott was so young, how could he have a nephew who looked at most two or three years different from him?

This hierarchy is just... too ridiculous, isn’t it?

”Don’t we? Jagger is the only son of the head of Grant Properties, and indeed my nephew, though the relationship is somewhat distant. However, our personal feelings are quite good.”

Zion Prescott’s handsome and elegant face broke into a faint smile. He glanced faintly at Claire Sinclair, and his gaze lingered for a moment on the woman’s ashen, paper-like face.

Claire Sinclair’s heart jumped into her throat in an instant, her lips involuntarily trembling, unable to meet his gaze.

It was only Jude Grant who first noticed something was off about Claire Sinclair.

The young man with wheat-colored skin hurried over and touched Claire Sinclair’s forehead.

”Claire, what’s wrong? Your face looks so pale? Are you cold? Should I take you to see a doctor now?”

Jude Grant fired off several questions like a barrage, not realizing at all how Zion Prescott’s gaze had turned so morose when he reached out to touch Claire Sinclair.

But that cold and stern look only existed for a moment before turning into an impeccable smile.

Zion Prescott walked up gracefully.

”Miss Sinclair feeling unwell? Jagger, you really are worried and confused. I doubt you could find a more professional doctor within ten miles than me.”

Zion Prescott’s confident and open attitude only made Claire Sinclair feel increasingly helpless.

Sensing the constant scrutiny of the other person’s gaze, Claire Sinclair’s throat dried up, nearly provoking a gag reflex.

— No one knew just how much she feared him.

That feeling was a deep-seated fear ingrained in her very bones.

She dared not even meet Zion Prescott’s seemingly gentle yet truly cold eyes.

Panicking, Claire Sinclair clutched Jude Grant’s wrist.

”Jagger, I’m okay, I might just be a bit cold because my clothes got wet earlier. Really, I’m fine, I’m not that fragile.”

Zion Prescott stared at Claire Sinclair’s bloodless lips. Upon hearing the name ’Jagger,’ his already dim black eyes grew increasingly dark, like an eternal night.

Jagger...

What an adept Jagger.

”Miss Sinclair, ignoring an illness isn’t wise at all. Have you considered what might happen if it leaves lasting damage?”

Zion Prescott suddenly let out a sarcastic laugh, even audibly chuckling.

The enigmatic smile left everyone around feeling a bit uneasy. Cecilia Vaughn paused, unable to understand why the usually calm and wise Zion Prescott suddenly seemed so baffling.

Cecilia Vaughn furrowed her brows, sensing that Zion Prescott seemed quite opposed to Claire Sinclair.

Mona Summers, who was always intensely curious, also looked surprised. She’d sensed that something was amiss between Zion Prescott and Claire Sinclair all along.

Could it be that Zion Prescott dislikes people from the entertainment industry, and hence can’t stand the fact that Jude Grant chose a celebrity to be his future wife?

...

However, Jude Grant, the ever-straightforward guy, hadn’t detected the tension in the air at all.

He admired this younger uncle of his, and agreed with Zion’s words despite not seeing him often.

”Yeah, Claire, ignoring an illness isn’t good. Since Uncle Zion is here, why don’t you let him take a look at you?”

Claire Sinclair shrank back in fear, steeling her nerves before shaking her head directly.

”No need to trouble Doctor Prescott, Jagger. I’m a bit uncomfortable now. Didn’t you bring some clothes? I’ll change and then we can leave.”

”You’re really being stubborn... I’ll make you some ginger tea when we get back.”

Claire’s stubbornness was something Jude Grant was already used to, and he doted on her immensely.

Jude Grant smiled helplessly, pinched Claire Sinclair’s face, and then opened the box containing clothes.

In an instant, a stunning full cashmere long-sleeved ankle-length dress was revealed.

The top was a soft pink reminiscent of early spring peach blossoms, with a sheen cascading downwards, the blossoms seeming to bloom from buds to full splendor, layers upon layers of petals brightening the winter day so cold it would freeze bones.

Women innately love beauty, and even Cecilia Vaughn couldn’t help smiling and teasing when she saw the dress.

”Claire, I didn’t know Young Master Grant cared for you so much, and has such a great eye for clothes.”

Even more knowledgeable than Cecilia, Mona Summers nearly squealed in excitement.

”Wow, this must be the latest haute couture from Master Eric’s recent collection, right? I think there are only two in the world. One was pre-ordered by someone from the Brelland royal family, and the other was kept a secret. I can’t believe I’m seeing it here, Young Master Grant, you spoil your girlfriend so much! I’m so envious!”

Master Eric’s dresses aren’t something you can simply buy with money.

It requires a lot of patience and luck.

Given the rarity, in everyone’s common values, truly good things are always hard to come by.

The big-hearted Jude Grant was made quite embarrassed by Mona Summers’ praise, awkwardly scratching his head and gazing at Claire Sinclair longingly, like a big dog begging his girlfriend to smooth his fur.

”Claire, I remember you saying you liked this brand’s clothes before, so I kept an eye out. This skirt may look thin, but it’s actually very warm. Why don’t you go try it on?”

Claire Sinclair glanced at the strikingly beautiful winter haute couture dress. Her thoughts were too heavy at the moment to appreciate its beauty.

Her rosy lips moved slightly.

”It’s beautiful, thank you.”

She only had one thought now: to leave quickly, to get away from where Zion Prescott was.

Claire Sinclair hurried towards the changing room with the dress. Just as she was about to shut the door, a long, porcelain-white hand suddenly stopped the door.

”You—”

Claire Sinclair couldn’t believe as she looked up into a handsome face adorned with gold-rimmed glasses.

The man had shed his warm façade in front of others, his gaze now icy, exuding an intensely dangerous aura.

It was Zion Prescott.

...

The man curled his lips mysteriously.

”What, too excited to speak upon seeing an old lover?”

Claire Sinclair, extremely tense, instinctively pushed against Zion Prescott.

”This is the women’s changing room, Mr. Prescott, please have some respect and leave now!”

”Or else, I’ll call someone!”

Zion Prescott laughed, mocking her naivety.

”Sure, go ahead. Let Jagger and all your friends see how you seduce me.”

His gaze was mocking, his long fingers ambiguously brushing the red mole on her nose.

”Guess what, will Jagger believe you or me?”