All Chapters of Turning Heads After Divorce: Chapter 481 - Chapter 490

The awkwardness of the situation dawned on Marisol, but it quickly faded into irrelevance. A faint trace of roses, delicate and refined, drifted toward her from the side. From the corner of her eye, she noticed an outstretched hand with slender, refined fingers and elegantly tapered skin. A silver bracelet adorned the wrist, its hollowed letters laced with a thin red thread that wound around the bare forearm. The contrast of cold metal against the soft red thread was unexpectedly striking, carrying an understated allure. "Hello, I'm Mitchell Jensen." The man's voice was unexpectedly warm and even. Marisol slowly looked up. What met her eyes was the clean line of his jaw, the faint curve of his pink lips, and the narrow bridge of his finely arched nose. Above them, a pair of almond-shaped eyes gazed back at her with quiet amusement. The man's hair fell in artful disarray, with one side tucked behind his ear while the other brushed across his cheek. His features were sharp an

By the window on the second floor of the restaurant, Mitchell traced the silver bracelet and red thread around his left wrist. He asked softly, "What do you think of my proposal, Ms. Speight?" "The proposal is..." Marisol began, but the sudden buzz from her bag cut her short. Across from her, Mitchell smiled and gestured for her to take the call. She retrieved her phone and froze when she saw the name on the screen—Nick. The memory of their recent conversation in the coffeehouse surfaced. Considering the timing, a faint awkwardness pricked at her. With a quick wave to Mitchell, she stepped away to a corner to answer."Nick?" "It's me." His voice was gentle as always. "Have you had dinner yet? I found another great restaurant recently. Should I pick you up later?" The familiarity of his words sent a ripple of nostalgia through her. Years ago, during their university days, they would explore the city together, hunt for hidden eateries, and stumble on all sorts of amusing disco

Mitchell said, "I met her. Just as you predicted, she loved Evanescent. I think she intends to gift it to that elder you mentioned… Yes, I told her I'd need your permission first." He stripped off his shirt and let it fall carelessly onto the floor. Sun-bronzed skin stretched over his lean muscles, and a few faint scars scored his sculpted back. They didn't mar him; instead, they lent a wild, untamed edge. Half-naked, he strode toward the bathroom, shedding his clothes along the way."Understood. I'll give her the bottles you crafted yourself next time we meet... She'll adore them."With that, the call ended. Water thundered in the bathroom, and steam curled into the air. …Night fell, and the city glittered with lights. Even at this hour, traffic in Everton was still a mess. While watching the sluggish crawl of taillights through her window, Marisol decided to call Emilia. Emilia must've been waiting on edge. The call connected almost instantly, and her voice tumbled ou

So, Elizabeth was capable of painting such vibrant, joyful landscapes. Marisol wondered if this was Elizabeth's true nature before the darkness had ever touched her. It was bright and wonderful. Was her fading memory a curse, or was it in some way a blessing? The thought wavered in Marisol's mind.Just then, Elizabeth's eager voice cut through her reverie. "Well? What do you think? It's a seaside town in Istrana!" Istrana. The name struck Marisol like a spark, and she pulled back from her thoughts. The shadows in her gaze deepened as she looked at the beaming woman beside her. She echoed softly, "A town in Istrana?" "Yes!" Elizabeth grinned. "When I was little, Grandpa took me there for an international art festival. We stayed for a while. It was so beautiful. I told him back then that when I went to university, I would study art in Istrana, in Felsinova." But as the memory spilled from her lips, her joy faltered. "I'm finally old enough, yet Keane won't let me go. H

Marisol wondered if she was losing her mind. What on earth had she just heard? She lay frozen in bed, and her mind was a storm of confusion. For a long moment, she stayed utterly still, half-convinced she had imagined it. But in the silence of the night, with only Elizabeth lying face-to-face beside her, she clearly hadn't misheard. She wasn't deaf.A bastard with fox-like eyes? Her fiancé? Setting aside the mention of a fiancé, could Elizabeth have meant Lucian? It couldn't be Andre. Elizabeth's deteriorating memory had erased all recollection of her grandson, and to avoid distressing her, they had kept the boy away from the Muller residence for a long time. And besides, their ages didn't even line up. There was no way Elizabeth could mistake a child for a grown man, let alone regard him as Marisol's fiancé. But Lucian was long gone. Then what the hell was happening? Had Elizabeth's memory loss worsened into hallucinations? How else could she explain it? In the dead of