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

”Ah, my stomach... it hurts so much. Sis, why are you doing this to me?”

Fiona’s face was streaming with tears, her delicate hands pressed tightly against her stomach, those ambiguous words clearly accusing Cecilia of trying to harm her!

Cecilia looked at Fiona with utter disgust, her already cold expression hardening inch by inch into ice.

”Are you done acting yet? Fiona Vaughn, you really were born for show business.”

When Fiona heard this, she looked up weakly, tearful eyes shimmering, the pitiful grievance in her dark pupils so intense even bystanders might feel a twinge in their chest.

”Sis, do you really hate me that much? So much that you’d want me to lose my child?”

Cecilia stared at her with icy eyes.

”I never said that.”

After a beat, Cecilia sneered mercilessly again.

”Of course, I feel pretty sorry for the unborn kid, having such a drama queen for a mom.”

”Sis, you—”

Fiona bit her lip, clutching her stomach, looking pitifully at Tyson Law.

Tyson hurried forward, anxiously sizing Fiona up from head to toe, then wrapped her in his arms, glaring at Cecilia without a trace of politeness.

”If anything happens to the baby in Fiona’s stomach, you’ll answer for it! I’ve never seen such a vicious woman, even daring to harm her own sister!”

”Instead of worrying about this, maybe you should be more concerned about the color of the hat you’re wearing.”

Cecilia’s indifferent lips curled into a frosty arc; she finished speaking and got up, ready to move to a quiet corner.

She had been fine sitting here, but this nauseating couple had her ready to throw up yesterday’s dinner!

...

Worried about the hat color?

Tyson didn’t get it at first. When realization hit, he exploded in rage!

”Cecilia Vaughn! Did you just curse me with a green hat?”

”I didn’t say that.”

Cecilia shrugged indifferently, casting a meaningful look at Fiona.

Fiona was so rattled by her scrutiny, she couldn’t tell if Cecilia was just being petty, or if she’d actually sensed something about Fiona’s messy past.

Fiona’s heart raced nervously, her fair, clean little face growing pale.

Tyson noticed the stiffness in his arms and immediately fussed over her.

”Fiona, what’s wrong?”

Fiona’s beautiful eyes glistened with tears, a fragile light shining in them as she tugged at the man’s arm with deep grievance.

”Tyson, I swear, you were my first, and you’ll always be my only. How could I possibly put a green hat on you?”

Fiona’s crafty little statement skillfully skipped all those dirty, tangled old affairs, truly making Cecilia marvel.

And Tyson, all macho and insecure, was already deeply satisfied just hearing Fiona’s ’first time’ was with him; seeing her teary eyes, how could he not feel tender?

”Fiona, I believe you. I know your sister’s just trying to smear you. I won’t believe her.”

”Fiona, does your stomach still hurt? Come, let me carry you back to your seat. Tonight I’ll win you the honor of Cupid, let the whole world witness our undying love.”

”Pfft—”

Cecilia almost burst out laughing at Tyson and Fiona’s sappy exchange.

For a moment, she didn’t know whether to despise Tyson or feel sorry for him; honestly, the way Fiona had him wrapped around her finger, his IQ was no different from that airhead Chloe Alden.

”What are you laughing at?”

Tyson shot Cecilia a vicious look, utterly disdainful.

”My relationship with Fiona is not something you can tarnish. Cecilia Vaughn, with your shiny exterior and rotten core, nothing but a gold digger—no wonder not a single guy voted for you tonight at Cupid Night!”

Cecilia quietly curled her lips, her demeanor casual and unbothered.

”It’s fine. I’m not interested. You two go be the candidates for Cupid, just stay away from me, thanks.”

...

Fiona, carried by Tyson, took a seat in the front again and jumped back into the competition.

”Forty-one million, number 9, Fiona Vaughn!”

”Forty-two million, for number 25, Miss Grant!”

Tyson and some rich kid kept raising their paddles, and near the end, it was just the two of them left.

”Forty-five million! Number 9, Fiona Vaughn!”

”Number 25, forty-six million!”

Tyson wouldn’t be outdone and struck right back.

”Fifty million! Number 9, Fiona Vaughn!”

The host let out a shrill scream: ”This already beats last year’s highest Cupid bid—will we break new records tonight? Let’s all keep watching!”

The rich kid competing with Tyson finally faltered, hesitating and not raising his paddle again.

...

Cupid Night has rules: if no one bids for three minutes, the hammer falls and it’s over.

The host, seeing no one dared challenge Tyson anymore, teased out loud.

”Alright, looks like there’s no suspense left—if there are no more bids in three minutes, tonight’s Love God Crown will go to Miss Fiona Vaughn! Any gentleman want to offer some love for their goddess?”

”Let’s all watch the countdown! Three minutes till we reveal the final answer!”

It was finally about to be settled!

Fiona snuggled up in Tyson’s arms, full of satisfaction, basking in everyone’s envy and even shot her friend Chloe Alden a look.

Of course Chloe got the message, promptly stepping over to Cecilia and stomping on her sore spot.

”Oh my, isn’t this our Eldest Miss Vaughn? Earlier, Mr. Dodge bought your painting and you were so high and mighty—now what? The only woman totally ignored tonight? Not a single guy voting for you!”

”Unlike our Fiona, who’s just about to become Veridia’s Cupid this year!”

Cecilia glanced coolly at Chloe.

”Miss Alden, if I recall, your ranking is also at the bottom. The only two guys voting for you are the senior managers from your mom’s company—both in their forties, both married... So, spending your own cash on yourself, that’s fun?”

”...”

Getting exposed for being even less popular than Cecilia, and her votes were bought, Chloe was instantly furious!

”You... what are you even proud of! I bet you’re just bitter because you can’t compare with Fiona, so now you act like you don’t care about the Cupid title!”

”Yeah right, who told you to be the local rat? Three years in prison, a total loser, stingy as hell! No wonder none of the guys here would be caught dead voting for you!”

Cecilia saw Chloe’s hysterical rage and only showed a faint, indifferent smile.

Over there, three minutes were down to the last ten seconds; the host cleared their throat, ready to settle it with one hit.

”Now, I declare, the winner of this year’s Cupid Crown is number nine, Fi—”

But at that moment, a deep, magnetic male voice suddenly sliced through the crowd.

”I choose number seven. One hundred million. US Dollar.”