Secrets Of The Neglected Wife: When Her True Colors Shine

Kellan looked at Allison and commented, “You know, this outfit looks a lot better on you.

”

Allison was actually wearing the most casual, nondescript outfit that day, but something about her effortless style appealed to Kellan much more than the floral dress she'd worn last time.

There was an air of freedom, an unbridled energy about her that he hadn't noticed before.

“Thank you,” Allison replied with polite indifference.

“I can’t say the same about your previous outfit, though.

” Kellan paused, his lips quirking slightly as if some distant memory amused him.

“It reminded me of something my grandmother would wear!”

Allison was momentarily speechless.

Kellan's reputation as a scathing critic was well earned.

His frankness knew no bounds, and yet he had survived all these years without anyone breaking his teeth, a small miracle that spoke of his luck or his strength.

While most people would cringe at her brutal honesty, Allison was unfazed.

She was not exactly a delicate flower.

Despite her biting remarks, there was something refreshingly direct about her jokes.

She felt strangely comfortable, as if the pretensions she had to maintain around the Stevens family evaporated in his presence.

Looking at him now, Allison suddenly remembered their first meeting, two years ago.

Back then, the Stevens family was rapidly sinking and she had sought Kellan's help, desperate to save the family business.

He had waited for hours - four or five cups of coffee - until Kellan's assistant let him into the room.

"What perfume are you wearing?" he asked her before she could open her mouth or touch the thick stack of documents in front of her.

It was her creation, a perfume she made herself.

Not wanting to reveal it, she replied indifferently: “It’s something I bought.

I don’t even remember the name.

Do you like it?”

Kellan didn’t answer her question.

Instead, he got straight to the point.

“I can help Stevens Group get a sales pipeline and deal with those people.

” He barely noticed her hesitation before continuing.

Kellan looked at her, concentrating solely on the papers his assistant was handing him.

“Leave the rest of the perfume with me.

”

Kellan was unlike anyone she had ever met—his eccentricity was unmatched.

Without hesitation, Allison pulled the remaining vial from her purse and placed it on her desk.All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

True to his word, Kellan had pulled strings and helped the Stevens Group weather the storm.

For a bottle of perfume, she had moved mountains.

Rumors that she was unconventional had fallen short.

It had been two years since that strange but fortuitous encounter.

As a perfumer, Allison found it gratifying to have her scent appreciated, especially by someone as peculiar as Kellan.

She didn't feel bitter when she saw him again.

Since Kellan had praised his work, he thought he could return the favor.

Allison casually crouched down and reached out to pet the lazy ginger cat lying nearby.

The feline immediately squirmed around, belly exposed in a blatant plea for affection.

But when her eyes drifted to the pottery Kellan had been working on, any praise she had planned evaporated on the spot.

The lump of clay in front of me looked like a vase – if you were feeling generous – but between its crooked shape and tilted lip, it looked more like an abstract art project!

Allison hesitated, searching for words, but couldn’t muster even an insincere compliment.

“Don’t say anything.

I know,” Kellan murmured, a rare hint of defeat in his voice.

Allison laughed, relieved that he at least had some self-awareness.

The awkwardness in the air was interrupted when Emanuel walked in, proudly holding a freshly caught fish.

“You’re finally here! I just pulled it out of the water today.

It’s perfect to eat.

Wait till you try my cooking.

”

“Sounds great!” Allison said.

She had missed the fish from this town: the flavor was fresh, rich, and best of all, the fish here had fewer bones.

However, Emanuel’s cheerful expression soured the moment he saw Kellan.

“But he’s not invited.

” His disdain only grew as his gaze fell on Kellan’s botched attempt at pottery.

The sight of the misshapen vase gave him a pang of pity, not for Kellan, but for the wasted clay.

"You should be starving! You've been squatting here for days.

Don't you know when it's time to leave?"

Unfazed, Kellan replied, “I paid ten times more than normal.

I’m not just renting for a week, and according to the rules, it’s not time for me to leave yet.

”

His cold tone clashed with her frown as she struggled to fix the crooked vase.

“It’s not just about money! It’s about you wasting precious materials.

”

Emanuel's frustration was palpable.

For him, ceramics was more than just a craft: it was a labor of love.

Each piece he made was like a child, and having to watch someone ruin a creation was unbearable.

“I’ve told you before! You have no talent for this.

You’ve ruined more parts than I can count, you’ve smashed three wheels, and you’ve brought the furnace fire to the edge of sanity.

It’s time for you to give up.

”

Kellan looked him in the eyes with a quiet challenge.

“I like it.

When is your master coming?”

Emanuel threw up his hands in exasperation, pointing at Allison.

“You mean my skills aren’t good enough to teach you? Well, my teacher is right here.

”