Unmasking Mrs. Newton's Secret Identities novel Chapter 1827

Tired of the inconveniences of hotel living, Chandler made a bold decision. He purchased an old house in the city center. After having it thoroughly cleaned, he invited Helen to see it.

As Helen took in the house, with its charming vintage decor and prime location in the heart of the city, she couldn't shake her concern about the price. "This house must have cost a fortune, right?"

"The most important thing is that you're happy," Chandler replied warmly.

Helen didn't answer, her attention absorbed in exploring every corner of the house.

"Aside from the basic utilities, I made sure to preserve as many of the original features as possible," Chandler added, trailing behind her.

He knew how much Helen appreciated vintage items and the stories they told. Such treasures were hard to find in Grand Cathay, but here in Miravell, he could fulfill this small but meaningful wish of hers.

After admiring the well-preserved phonograph, Helen couldn't contain her excitement any longer.

She turned to Chandler and wrapped her arms around his neck. Rising onto her tiptoes, she kissed him gently on the lips.

"I absolutely love it. Thank you, honey."

Her rare display of affection stirred something deep in Chandler. A warmth spread through his chest, and his pulse quickened.

"It's been a long day. How about we take a shower?" Chandler suggested, his words slipping out unexpectedly.

"A good wash is just what I need," Helen said, spinning around in a joyful circle. "The first night in our new home calls for something special, don't you think?"

Chandler immediately stepped forward, lifting her with ease and carrying her upstairs. "What I meant was, together," he said, his expression impassive.

Helen quickly caught on, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "So all this pampering was just to get me into bed?"

"Helly, don't make me out to be that shameless," Chandler replied, his face remaining unchanged. "With you in such a good mood and everything perfect, all I want is to enjoy the night with you. Don't be so tight-fisted."

"Tight-fisted?" Helen's playful ire flared up, and she bit down on his neck.

"Ouch—" Chandler winced, startled by the sudden pain. He froze, concerned she might hurt herself.

Having vented her frustration, Helen pulled away. A mischievous gleam sparkled in her eyes, like a child who'd just pulled off a successful prank. "That hurt, didn't it? Hmph!"

Chandler simply chuckled, clearly entertained by her antics.

Soon enough, Helen's resistance completely melted away, and she surrendered. She knew there was no escaping now.

As it turned out, a man's promises in those moments were entirely unreliable. When it was all over, Helen was so drained that she slept through until nightfall.

Groggy and still half-asleep, she heard a knock at the door. For a moment, she thought it was just a dream, but then a loud series of bangs shook the room, jolting her upright in bed.

"Honey?" Helen called, her eyes still shut, but there was no reply.

It suddenly dawned on her—Chandler must have gone to pick up the kids.

"Open up!" The person outside hammered on the door and shouted like a drunken fool, causing Helen to scowl in annoyance.

Wrapping a sheet around herself, she stormed downstairs, preparing to give the intruder a sharp piece of her mind.

When Helen flung open the door, she was greeted by the sight of Taylor wearing a pale yellow dress. He clutched a bottle of alcohol, his face etched with misery.

The first thought that flashed through Helen's mind was, "What a mess."

Between the wrinkled dress and the smeared makeup, she could've sworn it was Halloween a little too early.

"Who are you?" Helen asked, crossing her arms and blocking the doorway. She wasn't about to let him in just yet.

A woman's morning temper was not to be messed with.

Taylor hiccupped and then burst into tears. "Boss, it's me! I got dumped!"

With that, he crumpled to the floor at Helen's feet with a loud thud, clutching her shoes and sobbing uncontrollably.

"I'm so devastated… I never imagined love could hurt this much…"

"Then it's not my problem," Lincoln said with a smirk, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "Mission accomplished."

Shaking her head, Helen turned to Chandler as he stepped out of the bathroom. "What should we do with him tonight?"

"Leave him be," Chandler replied. He wasn't about to waste energy on a drunk, and he certainly didn't want Helen or the kids getting caught up in it.

"Are you sure?" Helen asked, struggling to be so cold-hearted.

"If you don't let him hit rock bottom, he won't learn. This is just karma—he brought it on himself. No one else is to blame."

Being a man himself, Chandler understood exactly what Taylor was going through.

The physical pain from his drunken state would serve as a distraction from the emotional pain. This self-inflicted suffering was Taylor's way of coping with his heartbreak.

At least he wasn't out on the street—that was kindness enough. Doing anything more would only slow his healing.

Later that night, Sienna quietly took her pink cooling blanket and draped it over Taylor.

…

Morning came quickly. The sun was already high in the sky, but Taylor remained fast asleep.

Without warning, the doorbell rang incessantly.

At first, Taylor ignored it, but as the ringing persisted, his annoyance grew. He pulled the blanket over his head, burying himself as if he could vanish from the world.

Helen rushed down the stairs, catching sight of him flipping over on the couch. She gave him a disapproving look before heading to the door.

"Abigail?

"Abigail's here!"