My Supermodel Wife

Milia's request made Harold sneer silently.

She really took advantage of his kindness in such a way. Even on an unofficial talk show, she dared to open her mouth asking him to accompany her.

Harold didn't say anything else, he just replied lightly, "Wait for me at the company."

Milia almost jumped out of her chair from the excitement, scaring the stylist who was combing her hair, Dylan.

As Lilia's makeup artist, he was very unhappy now that he had to work with an unknown newcomer.

Milia's movement made a strand of hair that he had just combed in his hand fall apart in an instant. Then he glared at the mirror. "Why are you moving suddenly? Don't you know that I'm styling you?"

As Dylan was yelling angrily at her, she curled her lips in anger. "No problem, I also don't like the style from earlier. Please fix it immediately, I don't have time anymore."

When Dylan heard this, he took two steps back and spread out his arms. "Since you think the style I do is not good, then you can do it yourself."

After he said it, he turned around and then turned his head. He saw Milia's incredulous gaze and pointed at himself proudly. "Also, don't call me brother D, call me teacher Dylan!"

Milia was left in the dressing room, her white face flushed red in embarrassment.

She knew that this sissy was Lilia's makeup artist, but now that he put her makeup on, he had to listen and follow his arrangements!

How ridiculous!

When Harold arrived at the company, Milia complained to him with a sad face. "Harold, the makeup artist at our company is so rude!"

As soon as Harold stepped into the office, he saw Milia and her disheveled hair.

He raised his eyebrows and looked at her with her half done makeup. Her left eye looked big and right eye small, looking exactly like a cute clown.

"What happened?"

Hearing Harold's question, Milia couldn't help but show that she held a grudge against Dylan.

After that, she didn't forget to bring her waist-length hair forward. "My hair is well groomed, but the stylist pulled it too hard. Harold, how about we look for a professional?"

Harold leaned back in the office chair with his feet on the table. He took out a cigarette box from his pocket, took one out then said to Milia. "The company has a total of eight make-up artists. If Dylan doesn't do well, you can use someone else."

Shame painted Milia's face. She wanted to hire a professional makeup artist for herself.

Harold naturally understood her vague intentions, but he had no intention of doing what she wanted. He took out a document from the filing cabinet next to him, rolled his eyes and faced her. "What? Need anything else?"

Milia shook her head happily. "Could you find someone to help me do my makeup?"

"You are speaking nonsense, isn't there a talk show soon? I'm here to help you think of some answers for later so you won't be camera-shy."

Milia raised her eyebrows in joy, she stopped talking about make-up artists then turned and walked hurriedly out the door.

Harold held the document in his hand, glanced at the girl's vivacious figure, and bursted out laughing.

'Do you think being a celebrity is that easy?!'

Naturally, Harold would make Milia a superstar since the higher the stage she stood, the worse she would fall.

The more proud that girl was now, the harder it'd hit once she realized what frustration meant.

...

Three days later, at the Institute of Genetics, two whole weeks had passed and Vincent's treatment for Lilia had entered its third stage.

Today, Lilia's ankle had healed thanks to Vincent's care.

Doctors said at the time that her leg injury would take at least a month to recover.

At this time, in the afternoon, the sun was getting ready to set and left at dusk.

Lilia had just finished her treatment. Compared to the stinging pain in the two previous treatment stages, the medication was very mild now. Even if there was a little pain, at least it was only a little itching.

Vincent weakly sealed all the gauze and walked out of the sterile room without saying anything.

Outside the door, he raised his eyes and saw Jean, then he hummed angrily. "After the third treatment is finished, her eyes will be healed!"

The man calmly nodded. "Thank you."

"Don't worry!" Vincent closed the door behind him, carried the bag in his hand and walked toward the quiet corridor ahead.

As the two of them walked to the corner of the corridor, Vincent leaned against the wall behind him, and pointed to his handsome face. "Do you think it's easy to take care of your woman? I feel like I almost died many times from treating her wounds!"

Even though Jean knew of his illness, he still forced him to take care of Lilia's ankle as well.

And this treatment couldn't be completed in a short time!

Jean then looked at Vincent's slightly sunken cheeks and asked, "What do you want?"

Vincent snorted. "Oh, how generous! I want your woman, will you please?"

After he carelessly replied this way, he felt the layer of fur on his back shudder.

What a horrible feeling!

The cruelty that suddenly appeared on Jean's face was like a thin web trapping Vincent tightly. He felt that he might have gone too far.

He curled his lips in embarrassment and touched the back of his neck. "Hey, hey, take it easy! Can't you take a joke?"

"I will give you whatever you want, but don't even wish you can have her!"

There was a trace of surprise in Vincent's eyes. He had known Jean for so many years and had never seen him so possessive.

With a low sigh, Vincent raised his eyebrows diagonally. "You should know that after you left, everyone was looking for you for a very, very long time! How about you come back with me after I heal your woman's eye?"

After speaking, Vincent smiled happily, but his expression stiffened the next second.

How did Jean answer?

"Stop it! I don't want to discuss this again1"

Vincent's breath condensed and he smiled ironically. "Is this your attitude towards your wife's savior? Jean, don't blame me for not reminding you that abroad, you..."

The man cut off his words coldly. "After I left, I forgot everything from abroad."

"Indeed, it is easy for you to throw away. But remember, there is still one last treatment session. If you want me to heal her eyes, you must come back with me. You should know that if I can heal her eye, I can also blind her instantly,"? Vincent replied.

He added, "Jean, I'm tired of throwing up for almost half a month. Can you show a little sincerity? You have been gone for years, my father has grumbled in my ear for those years. Come back with me or I won't cure her!"

Right now, the man's eyes gazed at him sharply as he replied, "Are you threatening me?"

Vincent looked at him fearlessly. "I don't care if it sounds like a threat to you. But remember, I will heal her and you will come back with me later. If not then I'll come back home this very second. Think clearly before it's too late,"

The man was silent, his gaze was deep and gloomy like a shining rock under a pool of ink, blinding the light.

Vincent was in no rush. Seeing that Jean was not speaking, he stepped forward and patted his shoulder. "Jean, think about it. I'll hear your answer tonight, if not then you'll know the consequence!"

After speaking, Vincent whistled proudly and went to the research room quickly.