Chapter 398 It Seems Mr. Valdemar Does Not Like This Style
When Doyle arrived, Yvette was standing by the large floor-to-ceiling window in the room, looking down.
Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating every corner of the city, but Yvette's heart was chillingly cold.
Even though Yvette knew that Albert had never truly respected her all these years.
But when she realized he was really going to confine her, she still felt disappointed and angry.
Was he confining her to prevent her from meeting David again, or was he planning to keep her locked up to get her pregnant?
To Albert, was she just a subordinate he could manipulate at will, or a tool for bearing children?
Yvette didn't know, and she didn't dare to think any deeper.
The door knocked, and Yvette came back to her senses and went to open it.
Yvette's lips were pale, her eyes lifeless, and she looked at Doyle blankly. "Dr. Cunningham? Why are you here?"
Doyle looked at Yvette, who seemed so fragile that she might break at any moment, and instinctively frowned, but quickly returned to normal.
He walked into the room, raising the freshly printed materials in his hand. "You asked me a question last time, and I found some information and had an academic discussion with a professor. I organized some content to bring to you."
A hint of confusion flashed in Yvette's eyes, and it took her two seconds to remember. "Oh, thank you."
Yvette took the materials and casually tossed them onto the nearby sofa, not caring much.
A person without personal freedom, how could she have the mind to think about these things?
Doyle clearly understood this too. He looked at Yvette with a pained expression, wanting to say something but stopping.
Yvette suddenly seemed to remember something and looked up at Doyle. "Dr. Cunningham, can you find a way to get me out of here?"
Doyle looked troubled. Albert was so stubborn, how could he dare to be the "good guy"?
Yvette saw the difficulty in Doyle's eyes and didn't press him further. "Forget it, the servants should have already picked up BoBo and CiCi. There's no point in me going now."
Yvette was a bit lost in thought, wondering if BoBo and CiCi, who were eagerly waiting for her to pick them up, would be disappointed when they saw the servants instead. Would they throw a tantrum?
But her two children were so well-behaved, they would probably just hold back their disappointment and grievances and obediently follow the servants home.
Thinking of this, Yvette felt extremely sad. Her children were so well-behaved, yet she couldn't give them a greater sense of security.
At this moment, Yvette's sense of powerlessness peaked as she lowered her eyes to hide the vulnerability flooding them.
Doyle let out a barely audible sigh. "Don't worry, with the servants picking them up, the children are very safe."
After saying that, Doyle paused and added, "And so are you."
Yvette tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Really?"
Safe?
Weren't the children kidnapped last time while they were with the servants?
For her, being confined by Albert felt safe. He knew she wouldn't risk her life to fight against it because of the children; they were her weakness. The whole world used her children to threaten her, leaving her with no way out.
"Of course." Doyle pretended not to understand the hidden meaning in her words. "Since the last incident, Albert has arranged many bodyguards for secret protection. Any slight disturbance will be reported, and such things won't happen again."
"Oh," Yvette responded casually.
Listening to Doyle speak entirely from Albert's perspective, Yvette had no more thoughts of struggling.
She couldn't get Doyle to help her, and with the children being taken care of by servants who obeyed Albert, Yvette had no chance of escaping.
Yvette turned her head and continued to look out the floor-to-ceiling window, no longer engaging in conversation with Doyle.
Doyle looked at the materials she had casually thrown aside and then at her sitting on the sofa, hugging her legs and looking out the window. He felt a bit uncomfortable.
Following her gaze, he looked out. The city's life, prosperity, effort, and hope were all in view.
But Yvette seemed like a walking corpse, her eyes looking at the scenery outside filled with a longing for freedom.
In the hazy night, sparse stars dotted the sky.
The air was filled with the freshness and tranquility unique to the night, but opening the door to the club's private room brought a rush of intoxicating and ambiguous atmosphere.
Albert sat in the center of the sofa, with two voluptuous women beside him, pouring him drinks.
The women's skirts were extremely short, but they didn't mind, their large movements exuding a faint sense of seduction.
Albert's face was expressionless, not even glancing at the places they deliberately exposed.
One woman poured Albert a drink and brought the glass to his lips, her gaudy perfume instantly spreading. "Mr. Valdemar, let me feed you."
Albert frowned, showing a look of disgust as he turned his head away.
Not only did he not take the drink from her hand, but he also poured himself a glass and sipped it.
The woman wanted to get closer, but Albert's cold aura intimidated her, and she awkwardly froze in place, not daring to approach.
Alfonso Carr, sitting nearby, raised an eyebrow and said meaningfully, "It seems Mr. Valdemar doesn't like this style?"
He held a cigar in his mouth and waved his hand. "Get Mr. Valdemar some younger, purer ones. You lot don't catch Mr. Valdemar's eye at all!"
Watching the women leave in a hurry, Albert cast a cold glance at Alfonso. "It seems Mr. Carr didn't do your homework on me."
His words were brief but pointed. Alfonso smirked, taking the cigar from his lips and holding it between his fingers. "Of course I did. I just don't believe there's a man in this world who can resist temptation. I wanted to see for myself."
Albert's slender fingers wrapped around the glass, gently swirling it. The ice clinked against the transparent glass, producing a crisp sound.
"Mr. Carr is always trying to figure out my limits," Albert said ambiguously, causing the smile on Alfonso's lips to freeze.
After a brief pause, Alfonso laughed awkwardly, trying to mask his discomfort. "Oh, come on! There's no such thing! But if I've done anything to displease you, I'll certainly change it!"
As he spoke, Alfonso raised his glass, clinking it against Albert's before downing his drink in one gulp.
Albert, however, didn't drink. Instead, he placed his glass heavily on the table.
In the dimly lit room, a flash of malice crossed Alfonso's face.
He had only asked for a bit more profit, and Albert showed such disdain.
Alfonso glanced at the cigar set out for Albert, which was slowly burning, untouched. A hint of satisfaction flickered in his eyes.
He asked, "Mr. Valdemar, you're really not going to smoke this fine cigar?"
"No," Albert replied calmly. He never touched cigars from outside, fearing they might be tampered with.
Alfonso took another sip of his drink, a sinister smile hidden behind the glass.
Not smoking was the right choice.
The drug in the drink, however, couldn't be avoided.
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