Unmasking Mrs. Newton's Secret Identities novel Chapter 1830

An hour later, Taylor heard the sound of the door closing downstairs. He cautiously tiptoed down the stairs, his steps measured and quiet.

Just then, Helen walked back from the entryway. As she looked up, she immediately noticed his suspicious behavior. "What's with the sneaking around?"

"Is she gone?" Taylor whispered.

"Yes."

With that, Taylor straightened up, swinging his arms casually as though he had been working out.

Helen shook her head, a mixture of amusement and exasperation in her eyes. "So, are you planning to hide for the rest of your life?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Taylor said, playing dumb.

Helen shot him a pointed look, clearly not buying it. "Let's see how long you can keep this up," she thought to herself.

Unable to withstand her gaze, Taylor finally caved. "Alright, fine! I'm not going to avoid her forever, okay? It's just… now's not the right time."

Helen shook her head, too exhausted to argue any longer. Just as she turned to head upstairs, the doorbell rang again.

Before she could even react, Taylor had already dashed upstairs to hide. They both seemed to have the same thought—it was probably Abigail returning to retrieve something she'd forgotten.

"Don't go telling people you're my underling," Helen called upstairs before making her way to the door. "What did she forget now?"

But when she opened the door, it wasn't Abigail standing there. Instead, a group of well-dressed men in suits waited outside.

The man at the front was older, with neatly combed gray hair. He exuded a calm, deferential air, a pocket watch carefully nestled in the pocket of his suit jacket.

His attire, though understated, was a custom-made suit from a renowned luxury brand—evidence that he was a person of notable status.

"Who are you?" Helen asked politely, offering a nod.

"It was no trouble at all. There's no need for such formality," Taylor replied, waving his hand dismissively. "Besides, Ms. Hunt gave me a ride yesterday. Consider us even. You can take the gifts back."

The elderly man, however, placed the boxes carefully by the door, his composure unshaken. "It is the Hunt family's custom that once a gift is given, it cannot be returned.

"If these gifts do not meet your expectations, please let us know. Mr. Hunt Senior has instructed me to do my best to fulfill any requests you may have.

"However, there is one thing to note—since Ms. Hunt is still quite young, Mr. Hunt Senior prefers she not be exposed to too many outside influences. Should any issues arise in the future, please feel free to contact me directly."

The elderly man's tone was polite and respectful, yet there was an unmistakable undercurrent—he was subtly cautioning Taylor to keep his distance from Lucy.

Picking up on the implication, Taylor's smile faded as he shot back, "Lucy's a wonderful young woman. It's a shame she's stuck with a family of snobs."

"Mr. Xander, it seems you're in a bit of a bad mood, so I won't keep you any longer. I've left my business card in the bag. If you need anything, don't hesitate to reach out. Farewell for now."