Chapter 62

The Ford mansion.

Guinevere had just gotten the report. She turned each page slowly, scrutinizing each and every word.

They really were two different people. But how was that possible? It was indeed an outcome that she
had hoped for, but it was all too outlandish. But still, everything had been spelled out in black and white,
in the report in front of her, so it had to be true.

Guinevere sighed in relief. Thank goodness she wasn’t that woman. Thank goodness Ella Steele was
just Ella Steele after all.

As long as she wasn’t Stella Sealey, she would pose no threat to her. She was just a woman who
looked like Stella, that was all. Nothing to be worried about.

“What are you doing?” Weston asked, appearing seemingly out of nowhere just as she sighed.
Guinevere’s heart skipped a beat but she managed to stay calm and show no emotions. “Nothing,” she
replied, getting up and pretending to be tidying up the desk. “I was just reading my scripts.”

Weston usually showed no interest in her work, but as luck would have it, he seemed curious today
and started walking towards her. As his footsteps approached, the tension in Guinevere’s body rose.
She swiftly hid the report under a stack of paper, but Weston was already standing behind her.

“Has the filming started?” he asked.

Guinevere nodded.

“The investors and the producers are having a discussion about the script so I might as well do some
preparations myself since I have nothing else to do anyway.”



Guinevere had a good reputation in the entertainment industry, and it was a reputation that didn’t come
from nowhere.

Weston said nothing, but his gaze moved from Guinevere’s face to the stack of paper on the desk.

“Zack’s awake,” he said, before turning around and leaving the room.

Guinevere’s countenance darkened as she watched Weston walk away. After sitting in silence for a
while, she finally followed him out of the room. Before she closed the door, she glanced at the report on
the desk one last time.



In the living room downstairs, Zack was crying noisily. Perhaps he had caught a cold last night when he
was outside and had gotten ill – his temperature was still quite high even after some medication.

The nanny had tried everything but he still wouldn’t stop crying. Even Wendy couldn’t sleep because of
the noise–she carried Zack in her arms and paced around the living room trying to calm him down.
“You two!” she barked the moment she saw Weston and Guinevere. “Your son has been crying

all night and you’ve done absolutely nothing! How could you be so calm and do nothing about it! Have
you forgotten that you’re his parents?”

A wave of shame and regret flashed across Guinevere’s face.

“Here,” she said as she rushed up towards Wendy. “Let me take him.”

But just as Wendy handed Zack over to Guinevere, the boy bawled even louder, as if unwilling to part
with Wendy. Guinevere looked embarrassed and didn’t know what to do.

Seeing this, Wendy frowned and impatiently said, “Give him to me!”



The moment Zack was in Wendy’s arms, his wailing instantly subsided. Guinevere could do nothing but
watch them silently on the side, though her mind was fraught with complicated feelings. “Did you get
the doctor?” Weston asked as he walked toward Wendy.

“Of course I did!” Wendy replied. “The doctor said he’s caught a cold. Kids are like this whenever
they’re sick, so there’s nothing to worry about.” Weston nodded and said nothing more. As Zack’s
crying had now almost completely stopped, Wendy quickly handed him to Weston.

“Don’t you want to try?” she asked.

Weston very rarely ever carried Zack. Although he did take the time out to see him frequently, he
remained aloof and distant from the child overall.

Having nothing to do, the nanny suddenly said, “Would you look at that! He’s stopped crying the minute
he’s in his father’s arms! Say, he really does look a lot like Mr. Ford, doesn’t he?”

Those words pleased Guinevere to no end.


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