My Beloved Has Risen from Death’s Embrace
Chapter 33

Chapter 33 

watched Miranda leave the room with a stiff back and couldn’t help but smirk triumphantly. That schemer didn’t get what she wanted-must be fuming now! 

As she turned to apologize to Orion, he spoke first, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know she was your sister.” 

Xanthea raised an eyebrow, pleased by his ignorance. 

“It’s alright, but your pants.” 

She glanced down and upon seeing the specific area of his soaked suit pants, she quickly looked away, recalling the last glimpse she had caught in the hotel before their hasty departure. 

This Miranda, really bold, huh? Splashing with such precision, wasn’t she afraid Orion would explode in anger? 

Orion looked down, his gaze turning dark and stormy, “I’ll go to the restroom to handle. this.” 

Xanthea quickly stepped aside, “Sure!” 

Cedric approached, “Ms. Nightshade, what brings you here?” 

“Just traveling.” 

“To Willowdale? What a coincidence.” 

“What else?” Xanthea eyed his skeptical look, her brows slightly raised, “Do you think Mr. Lockwood here is so charming that I would orchestrate a chance encounter?” 

Cedric hurriedly replied, “Of course not!” 

He wanted to cover her mouth as he heard her raise her voice, though he knew she wa fond of Orion. There was no need for such hurtful remarks! 

He just felt that she and Orion had some kind of fate, continuously bumping into each other since her coming-of-age party, though it seemed like a cursed fate! 

Every encounter seemed to guarantee Orion would get hurt, whether sweetly or sorrowfully, like last time at ‘The Masked Singer’. 

“I’m sorry about today, I should head back.” 

Xanthea waved him off, about to return to her seat when she noticed Miranda casting a subtle glance in her direction. 

Still not giving up? With such persistence, no wonder she had Orion wrapped around her finger in the past life. 

1/2 

Chapter 

“Excuse me, miss.” 

Several chefs from the kitchen began bringing out dishes, each revealing enticing and aromatic food that could whet anyone’s appetite. 

Xanthea was stunned, “Did you bring your own chefs?” 

Cedric nodded, “Yeah, Mr. Lockwood doesn’t have a great appetite. So, whenever he travels, he brings along the Lockwood family’s private chef.” 

“That extravagant? You think you own the plane or something?” 

“Well, Hayes Airport actually belongs to the Lockwood Group. We didn’t notify the air traffic control in time today because the trip was so sudden, that’s why we didn’t use the private jet.” 

Xanthea was speechless. The world of the wealthy was beyond her understanding, but she had a plan to thwart that schemer. 

“Actually, I haven’t been feeling well either, didn’t eat much since getting on the plane, and now seeing all this, I’m kind of hungry.” 

Cedric looked puzzled; they had just boarded the plane, hadn’t they? 

Xanthea raised her eyebrows at him, Cedric still confused, what did she mean? 

Ten minutes later, Orion returned from the restroom to find a scene before him. 

Xanthea was sitting cross-legged in the corner of the sofa, her curly blond hair almost enveloping her petite figure, her palms cradling a juicy peach, nibbling on it bit by bit. Her cheeks gently puffed out with each bite, her dark lashes fluttering, making her look like a cunning, fluffy fox secretly enjoying a peach in a fairy-tale forest. 

Caught in the act by Orion, Xanthea stuttered, “Cedric told me to eat!” 

Cedric, who was wrongfully implicated and seated beside her, protested, “It wasn’t me, I 

swear!” 

Orion didn’t react but just stared at her in a daze. Seeing him spaced out, possibly charmed, Xanthea waved her hand, “Mr. Lockwood? Orion?” 

Snapping out of it, Orion quickly composed himself and pushed several dishes and desserts in front of her, “Help yourself.” 

“You’re the best!” Xanthea flashed a satisfied, sweet smile, “Then I won’t hold back!” 

Rolling up her sleeves, she was about to dive into the dish when her utensils clinked against Orion’s, though she picked up a piece of sea cucumber while Orion picked out some finely chopped onions. 

“You don’t eat onions either?” she asked, surprised, feeling a kinship, “What a coincidence, I don’t like them either. Seems we have similar tastes, we could share a meal!” 

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