After eating, Sophia and Ian went for a drive until it was time for lunch break at noon. Sophia then asked Ian to drive her to the city center. When the car came to a stop, she unfastened her seat belt. “Your house isn’t far from here, so you should go home and rest. You must be tired now since you took an early morning flight. Let’s go out again when you’re free,” she suggested in an animated voice.
Meanwhile, Ian had reverted to his usual calm expression. After staring at her for a while, he nodded. “Sure.” Swinging open the car door, Sophia alighted and waved at him through the window. Ian then drove away.
Turning around, Sophia gazed at the office building a near distance away and sighed. That was Constance Company. She actually wanted to ask Ian to drop her off in front of Constance Company earlier, but the media surrounded the entrance. Thus, she couldn’t do so. It wasn’t that she was afraid of being photographed, but the thing was that Ian was there. If she were photographed sitting in another man’s car with just the two of them, there would probably be another intriguing rumor on top of John’s scandal.
She then sauntered toward Constance Company leisurely. Just when she’d gotten close, someone recognized her and shouted, “That’s Sophia Gwendolyn, the Young Mistress of the Constance Family!” Upon hearing that, Sophia stopped short and stared at the reporters who’d appeared out of nowhere, running toward her in a mad dash. She quickly put a smile on her face and stood there waiting without hurrying away.
There were too many people swarming Sophia, making her slightly unsteady on her feet. “Hear, hear, calm down. Please take your time, and if there’s anything you’d like to ask, please do so one by one. Don’t rush, okay? Safety is a priority,” she promptly exclaimed.
Her calm and unruffled deportment had the paparazzi settling as well. After all, they were only frenzied because they were afraid that Sophia would run off. Since she was now looking all willing to accept their interviews, they were no longer frantic. Someone then thrust a microphone into her face. “Mrs. Constance, is the exposé on the Internet true? Did Mr. Constance truly betray you?”