Chapter 173

I Know Your Secret

“You’re not blind, though. It’s your legs that hurt,” Armand reasoned as he glanced at the woman on the
bed. “Besides, you’re reading the book for your own good, not mine.”

Genevieve got so furious at Armand’s bluntness that she threw the finance book at him and buried
herself under the blanket.

Feeling helpless, Armand merely caught the book and rubbed his temples.

Upon settling the rest of his emails, he promptly closed his laptop and climbed into bed. “Come out. I’ll
read the book with you,” he whispered as he pulled the bundled-up Genevieve into his arms.

The blanket was thin and cooling, perfect for the hot summer days.

Because of that, Genevieve could feel herself leaning against a firm, broad chest. After dawdling for a
while, she finally stuck her head out of the blanket.

To her surprise, Armand had already opened the book and flipped to the page she bookmarked.

Seeing her head sticking out, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Genevieve, I realize you’re
becoming brattier.”

Genevieve rolled her eyes as she texted: That’s just how I am. You have to accept it whether you like it
or not!

As the only child of the Rachford family, she was her parents’ most precious treasure. They doted on
her and spoiled her with everything she ever wanted. Thus, it was no surprise that she grew up to be
somewhat delicate and bratty.



However, as soon as the Rachford family was gone, no one pampered her anymore. On top of that, her
relationship with Armand back then was nothing more than a transactional one.

Genevieve had lived in fear every day, afraid that he might one day stop helping her. As such, she was
always careful around him, not daring to show the slightest hint of brattiness in her.

Now that she had fallen for him and realized he was keen to dote on her, there was no longer any
reason to hide her true self from him.

With that, Genevieve got into a comfortable position and lay in Armand’s arms. As she held his hand,
her eyes lazily scanned the words in the book.

However, the more she read, the more she thought about the words she had told Armand the night
before.

Without further ado, Genevieve turned around and stared at Armand as she ran a hand over his face.

Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that they would meet again after fourteen years and under
such circumstances.

Back then, she had only regarded the older boy as her only audience. Because of his encouragement,
she had poured her heart and soul into practicing the violin. There were no other emotions attached to
their interaction, to the point where she almost wanted to forget about her hospital stay.

Yet, that same boy had now become the man she fancied.

Genevieve remembered him standing near the balcony railing, looking so refined for someone who had
yet to step into young adulthood. Even his voice had a touch of gentleness to it.

Fourteen years later, Armand’s youthfulness might have disappeared, but he had also blossomed into
a mature and dependable man.



This face has changed so drastically that I couldn’t recognize it.

Armand felt the warm touch of her delicate fingers and gulped. “Genevieve, I told you to read the book,
not look at me,” he muttered, gaze darkening ever so slightly.

A smile crept across Genevieve’s face as she typed on her phone: Sir, I know one of your secrets.

She had been the one who stayed beside Armand all those years ago and practiced her violin.
However, the fact that he thought it was Marilyn could only mean that the latter had told a blatant lie.

Shame on Marilyn! She’s from a prestigious family, yet she’s so despicable. How dare she steal my
identity to get close to Armand!

Upon seeing the word “Sir” in her text, Armand felt his brows twitch, and he playfully pinched
Genevieve’s face. “Don’t call me that. It makes me sound so old. Call me Mando, okay?”

Alas, Genevieve shook her head and texted her reply: But you’re so much older than me. Isn’t it normal
to call you Sir?

The truth was, despite being married to Samuel, Marilyn still addressed Armand as “Mando” in private.
That thought alone always left a bad taste in Genevieve’s mouth.

Naturally, she did not want to use the same term of endearment as Marilyn.

Thinking it was not enough, Genevieve continued typing out “Sir” on her phone’s memo.

Armand was rendered speechless.

Genevieve: Sir, I want a strawberry smoothie.



“Smoothies are too cold. They aren’t good for your throat,” Armand chided before pushing her phone
away so he could not see what she typed. “How about I get you a bottle of soda?”

Shaking his arm, Genevieve typed out her response: Can’t I have just a bit? I’ll keep hounding you if
you don’t give me my smoothie! Sir, Sir, Sir!

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