The president's seventh bride

Alicia came downstairs with a big package, and Carlos took it for her, poker-faced, and then went straight to the Rolls-Royce parked outside. He opened the trunk, and threw it in.

Mr. and Mrs. Joliot-Curie said goodbye to their daughter hypocritically, but Alicia was absent because she was badly hit.

The pleasantries continued until the engine was started, and Alicia finally got rid of those two hypocritical faces. This visit was a complete success with the cooperation of Carlos. She took a long sigh of relief. She looked at the men beside her, and sincerely said, "Thank you today."

Carlos didn't respond, and Alicia couldn't help wondering for she discovered his cold eyes just when he took over her belongings.

"Why don't you talk?"

The car suddenly stopped on the roadside, and Carlos leaned over and asked her expressionless, "Why didn't you clearly state your lineage when I picked my wife?"

Alicia was jolted and asked blankly, "Anything wrong about it?"

"Even if I've divorced six times, I wouldn't marry a natural daughter, especially of a club dancer. Your stepmother loves you and allowed you to apply for your sister. How does she look upon the Noel-Baker family? A philanthropic charity?"

Alicia couldn't utter a word for one minute, and the words-natural daughter-were like a sharp sword piercing her heart relentlessly.

She had thought she was invulnerable over the years, but it turned out that she still felt pain.

"Yeah, I'm born out of wedlock, but I'm not ashamed of it. Only those who are self-contemptuous or want to elicit sympathy will keep telling everyone they meet that they are illegitimate, and the reason why I didn't say it is because I'm not like them."

"Then what kind of person are you?" Carlos pressed hard, while Alicia was in no mood for much self-evaluation and thus kept silent. He sneered at her silence, "Let me answer for you. You are the most conceited person in the world."

"Right, I'm so conceited as to believe you need a wife to stop your toying with life and identity doesn't matter. It seems I was wrong."

Alicia finished, and then pushed open the door and got off stubbornly. She was somewhat offended, and the fact that Carlos looked down on her was intolerable.

Her arm was grabbed after a few steps by a hand good looking but not warm, "Get on."

The tone of command added to her anger that she shook off his hand, "Even if I have nothing, I'd never give away my last dignity." She walked on, and a cold voice came from behind her, "My patience with women only lasts three minutes. Get on or not?" Carlos's words were clear-he wouldn't repeat the same words for the third time. He was actually less impatient with his six exes. Alicia closed her eyes and silently said in her heart, "Sorry, mom, just let me be headstrong once today."

Seeing her ungratefulness, Carlos turned around to get in the car. He slammed the door closed, started the engine and roared off...

When he got home, he went into the living room with a dark face. His mother, who was drinking tea on the sofa, saw him and abruptly stood up, "Why are you back alone? Where's your wife? "☐☐