CHAPTER 30: CHAPTER 30: "YOU LOVE ME YET STILL GAVE ME THE COLD SHOULDER SO LONG?

Vera’s brow furrowed at his accusation, feeling inexplicably vexed. "Milo is my student. In my eyes, he’s a junior, and he even fought for me. I’m just taking care of him."

It’s not like he didn’t know; she didn’t loathe men, but feared those interactions laden with lust and touch.

In their dancing days, she wouldn’t mind acting alongside male leads because they were part of the refined art.

"Are you suspecting me of cheating?" She turned her gaze, countering him with his own words.

Last time she asked him about a photo, he accused her of not trusting him.

Ian was momentarily stunned, his eyes blending with the darkness. After a few seconds, he spoke, "I’m just jealous."

Vera: "..."

Ian leaned in, wrapping his long arms around her. Vera stiffened for a moment, wanting to push him away. In the next second, the man whispered hoarsely near her ear, "Darling, you know how much I love you, wishing your heart and eyes were only for me."

Having not seen him for over a week, Vera found his words naturally comforting, yet she was clear-headed, her tone calm, "If you love me, why did you cold-shoulder me for so long?"

Nine days.

For the first time since knowing him, he ignored her for such a long time.

How did he manage to be so heartless?

Leaving her in daily desolation and constant anxiety.

Maeve said in intimate relationships, emotional manipulation like cold violence is a form of emotional control, deliberately creating withdrawal symptoms.

She began to suspect Ian was truly playing mind games with her.

Once calculation mixes into emotions, they become impure.

Ian pulled her closer, his nose gently rubbing against her temple, his familiar masculine scent enveloping her, "Darling, I admit, being misunderstood and doubted by you made me feel aggrieved, so I didn’t want to deal with you, hoping you’d come to appease me, and then I went on a business trip... I won’t dare next time."

Vera, "I tried to reach you, you—"

Before she could finish, the man unbuckled his seatbelt, dropped onto one knee, and half-knelt in the car.

Vera was taken aback.

The starry lights on the Phantom’s ceiling suddenly lit up, decorating the entire roof like a starry sky.

Ian magically produced a white gift box, and inside was a pair of pristine satin ballet pointe shoes, glimmering faintly under the lights.

"These dance shoes were custom-made for you by the founder of Freed of London I contacted three months ago. It’s a pity they only arrived now," he said, slipping the shoes onto her feet.

Vera’s eyes sparkled. This brand, a royal shoemaker in Corinium, especially for ballet pointe shoes, is something every dancer dreams of owning.

In the past, she couldn’t place a custom order despite multiple attempts.

The snow-white pointe shoes wrapped around her slender feet, the comfortable touch made Vera want to leap into a dance immediately.

Regrettably—

She suppressed her bitterness, gave him a slight smile, "Thank you, Mr. Kane, they’re beautiful, I’ll treasure them."

Ian settled back into his seat, concerned, "Did you drink tonight?"

Vera nodded, "A bit of sake."

All thanks to him.

Returning home, Ian personally cooked, making noodles with greens and a poached egg, staying with Vera until she finished eating before heading upstairs.

As soon as they entered the room, Ian made a call, "Who dared to provoke my wife?"

He suspected Vera was harassed, possibly under someone’s orders.

"Kane, I just had someone inquiring inside on Ivan Lewis’s behalf. He claimed it was a mistaken identity, thinking my wife was Nina Sullivan, whom he used to harass and blackmail regularly. He didn’t dare mention this to the police, afraid of being pursued." News came in from the other end.

"Plus, Attorney Grant is involved in the case, accusing Ivan Lewis of attempted rape."

Ian squinted, "Does my wife’s business require his meddling?"

"Get this Ivan Lewis castrated... but do it discreetly."

...

The next day, the Ardendale Ballet’s tour opened grandly at the National Grand Theater Opera House in Veridia.

Vera didn’t join the troupe, but her love for ballet led her to purchase a ticket in advance to support them, and Ian, uneasy about her being alone, accompanied her.

The moment Nina Sullivan took the stage, Vera seemed to see herself at twenty.

They had always been quite similar, and Nina’s makeup today was almost identical to hers.

Turning her head, she saw Ian intently watching the stage, seemingly fixated on Nina, and Vera instinctively clenched her hands.

The thought quickly crossed her mind that she was being too sensitive.

After all, Nina’s performance was truly stunning today, technically flawless with a richly emotional delivery.

Surely, her skill was evident.

At the curtain call, Vera applauded earnestly, solely for the art of ballet.

Their teacher-student relationship was long written off.

That evening, several of The Capital Circle’s renowned princelings invited Ian and Vera for a gathering, and Quentin Hawthorne brought Nina along too.

This was Vera’s first time seeing them arrive together. Nina wore a black strapless CHANEL mini dress, paired with a white woven blazer and a classic white camellia pinned on her left chest.

Her chestnut curls were styled high, the heavy makeup gone, leaving a fresh and captivating face, her upturned eyes laced with a hint of allure.

This was also the biggest difference between her and Vera.

Vera’s beauty was an untouchable, cool elegance that prompted the desire to conquer.

Among those present, the Crowe Family’s second son, Jasper, with the most profound capital circle background, had once pursued Vera.

Jasper Crowe was proud by nature, and after being rejected three times by Vera, left saying, "Miss, you’ve won," and never harassed her again.

Now, seeing him again, Vera followed Ian and called him "Brother Crowe."

Jasper’s gaze subtly swept over Vera’s right foot, smiling at her, "Have a seat."

Playing host, he arranged for the couple to sit at the head of the table.

Nina and Quentin sat diagonally opposite.

As the wine flowed, the conversation relaxed, and Nina’s flawless debut became a topic of discussion. One princeling egged Quentin on, "Quentin, let your girlfriend dance for us?"

Quentin exchanged a glance with Nina.

Nina stood up, her face adorned with a smile, graciously offering everyone a toast before she sat back down and cheerfully said, "You gentlemen overpraise me, but in front of Ms. Sheridan, how would I dare make a fool of myself, when she’s the goddess who could single-leg defeat me!"

Asking her to dance for them, making her their amusement?

She refused to comply!

To her, it should be the cripple on the opposite side dancing!

Listening to her words, Vera smiled faintly, while Ian beside her fiddled thoughtfully with a metal lighter.

"Oh right, I saw that video of Madam Kane showcasing her skill with just her left leg; it was stunning. Madam, could you dance for us again?" A red-backgrounded third-generation child asked Vera.

"Madam, how about a dance?" The others chimed in.

Nina fueled the fire, "I have dance shoes in my bag."

Vera caught a glimpse of the pride flitting across Nina’s eyes.

She herself didn’t want to dance, hinting these young masters to have Vera do it instead.

Vera wanted to refuse; ballet is an art that should not be entertainment for these aristocrats.

But she worried that a direct refusal might undermine Ian’s standing.

At this moment, the lighter in Ian’s hand made a "clink" sound, sparking a blue flame, then the lighter clicked shut.

Ian lifted his chin, eyes narrowing slightly, speaking blandly, "You dance."

Vera froze.

Jasper, sipping his tea, also lifted his gaze towards Ian.