Chapter 1369: For His Daughter, Swain''S Dad Takes The Initiative


    Chapter 1369: For His Daughter, Swain''s Dad Takes the Initiative


    Under the night sky, the dazzling city lights shone as the departing Maybach car moved at a moderate


    pace. Tristan sat in the spacious driver''s seat, his face illuminated by a soft light that made him even


    more captivating. A song yed in the car, its lyrics particrly fitting and calming. Somehow, Monica


    had entered Tristan''s heart, recing ire''s position.


    The car window rolled down, and the vehicle moved at a leisurely pace, allowing the cool breeze to


    blow in. Tristan''s smile was incredibly gentle, and he suddenly enjoyed the present situation, liking the


    slower pace of this rtionship. Taking things slow wasn''t impulsive; it was sincere, full of ritual, and


    particrly thoughtful. It also allowed them to better understand their own hearts.


    That night, in a luxurious and tidy suite at a hotel, Belinda''s daughter locked the door, leaving her


    mother outside. The mother-daughter rtionship had reached an impasse. Belinda''s mood wasn''t


    great either; she opened the wine cab, took a bottle of red wine, and sat on the sofa. Her thoughts


    involuntarily went back twenty years, as she breathed in the same air as him in this city. Memories of


    her time with Algerone Swain surfaced, causing the strong woman''s eyes to moisten. Those beautiful


    moments were buried deep in her heart, but she dared not reminisce.


    Belinda''s stubbornness about her daughter''s issue was because she was angry with Algerone Swain,


    and she was angry because she cared. On the same night, at the Swain family vi, the house was


    brightly lit but seemed somewhat deste. Algerone Swain stood alone on the balcony, his tall figure


    backlit, a lit cigarette between his fingers. With one hand on the railing and the cool evening breeze


    unable to dispel his worry and anxiety, he took a deep drag of his cigarette. No one knew what he was


    thinking.


    But for the sake of his daughter''s happiness, his rtionship with Belinda couldn''t continue like this.


    Life was short, and it was time for reconciliation. That night, the once-loving couple had a sleepless


    night, both thinking of each other.


    The next morning, the hotel doorbell rang. Belinda, who had risen early since she couldn''t sleep, went


    to the door, thinking it was the cleaningdy. As she opened the door, preparing to say there was no


    need for cleaning, she saw Algerone Swain, dressed in a suit and holding arge bouquet of roses.


    Belinda''s eyes widened in shock, as they hadn''t seen each other in nearly twenty years.


    He had clearly aged, with white hair at his temples and traces of time etched on his face. In Algerone


    Swain''s eyes, his ex-wife was still as beautiful as ever, whether in figure or clothing. As their eyes met,


    Belinda felt a soft ache in her heart. Algerone Swain looked at her with a gentle expression.


    The grievances suffered by a single mother all these years came flooding back, causing her to quickly


    react and try to close the door. Algerone Swain, however, quickly raised his hand to stop it, their


    powers quite different. The two remained in a standoff.


    Despite Belinda''s attempt to block the door with her entire body, she didn''t want to see him-or rather,


    she wasn''t prepared to see him that day. Since Algerone Swain hade, he couldn''t just leave, and


    ultimately, he pushed his way in. Fearing that Belinda would be knocked down, he gantly grabbed


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    her hand as he entered, pulling her to the side so she wouldn''t be hit by the door.


    Belindapromised, withdrawing her hand and turning around with her arms crossed, refusing to


    look at him directly. After so many years, she was still angry. Algerone Swain sighed softly, closing the


    door behind him.


    Holding the bouquet of roses, he approached her with a sincere gaze that Belinda deliberately avoided.


    "I remember your favorite flowers are roses," Algerone Swain said, looking at the flowers in his arms, a


    faint smile on his lips. "I didn''t buy these from a flower shop. I went to the Fritz family''s garden early in


    the morning and cut them for you myself." He had chosen that garden because it had rare and precious


    varieties, and their fragrance was particrly rich.