Listening to Anne Davidson's words, Frederick Goldsmith didn't respond.
The more he said, the more it would veer off course, and by then these matters would only become harder to resolve.
It was best for him not to give an opinion.
After seeing Anne Davidson off, Frederick Goldsmith let out a sigh of relief, returning to the kitchen alone.
Perhaps Young Master Peary would want breakfast soon.
Main Bedroom—
Nia Mitchell struggled out of Maxwell Peary's embrace, slipped on her slippers, and ran to the balcony.
Just in time, she wanted to see if Anne Davidson had indeed left.
Soon enough, she saw Anne Davidson walking out of the villa, then step by step walking off into the distance.
Maxwell Peary appeared at her side out of nowhere, gently circling an arm around her waist, letting her lean fully against him.
"Uncle."
Nia Mitchell paused for a moment, raised her head slightly to look at Maxwell Peary.
"No matter who it is, if you don't like them, ruthlessly drive them away."
