Unmasking Mrs. Newton's Secret Identities novel Chapter 1851

Chandler rolled his eyes, clearly irritated. "Is this some kind of horror flick? It's late, and you're knocking on my door dressed like that—who are you trying to freak out?"

Looking baffled, Jenson responded, "You're the 'Living King of Hell,' for crying out loud! How could I possibly scare you?"

Fuming with anger, Chandler was left speechless. If Jenson weren't his brother, he'd probably have thrown a punch by now.

Hearing Chandler's voice, Helen quickly realized it was all just a misunderstanding.

When she saw Jenson standing there, she stepped aside and motioned for him to come in. "It was just a misunderstanding. I'm sure Chandler didn't mean it. Come inside—it's pouring out there, and you don't want to catch a cold."

Jenson hurried in, setting down his suitcase and taking off his raincoat.

"What's in the suitcase?" Chandler asked, giving it a kick.

"Clothes," Jenson replied.

"Clothes?" Chandler's frustration only grew. "Why would you pack clothes in a locked suitcase like this?"

As the owner of Destiny Corporation, Chandler couldn't believe he was being thrown off by something as insignificant as a suitcase. If anyone found out, he'd become the town's laughingstock.

"Regular suitcases are too basic," Jenson explained with a serious face. "This one's much cooler."

Every man craved the desire to look cool—especially someone like Jenson, whose inner child reveled in the need to stand out.

With his black raincoat and suitcase in hand, he exuded a mysterious air. Walking down the street at night, he'd surely turn heads.

Chandler crossed his arms, puffing his cheeks in exasperation. He glared at Jenson, too angry to say anything.

Jenson, however, was oblivious to Chandler's simmering frustration. He turned to Helen, eager to get to the point. "Helen, you have a spare room, right? I'd like to stay for a few days."

"Of course," Helen said with a nod. "Why don't you bring Germaine as well? I'll set up a larger guest room for both of you."

"At your service," Chandler replied with a salute, sharing a knowing smile with Helen.

…

The next morning, Helen made breakfast and sent Sienna to call for Jenson.

A few minutes later, Sienna rushed back. "Mommy, Uncle Jenson said he doesn't want any."

With that, Sienna sat back down, picking up her spoon and fork, eager to dig in. At her age, she was always hungry, and after a full night's sleep, breakfast was the first thing on her mind.

"Alright, you two eat first," Helen said, setting the plates in front of Sienna and Lincoln. She then walked over to the window, her gaze drifting outside.

Jenson was sitting under the sycamore tree in the yard. With a cigarette in hand, his face was shadowed by worry.

"Honey," Chandler's voice came from behind her as he slipped his arms around her waist. "I'm starving," he whispered.