Maxwell Fontana stepped out of the car with an indifferent expression. As always. Agnes, who was wearing a purple gown, was following behind him with the sleeping Michael in her arms; there was indescribable grievance in her eyes.
She gazed up at the stoic-looking man before her in bitter silence .She bit her lower lip as tears welled up in her eyes .
Maxwell looked at his wristwatch .His facial expression seemed to be sealed in ice – it was devoid of emotion . “Feeling indignant?”
He leisurely turned to look at her with frigid eyes. “You’d better know your place, hm?”
Feeling wronged, she asked back, “My place? What is my place, then?”
The man was still regarding her emotionlessly.
“I’m your fiancée! Your future wife…” Tears flowed out from her eyes as she asked with a cracked voi
