Chapter 436: The Cicadas' Shrill Cries Pierced the Summer Air

The cicadas' shrill cries pierced the summer air.

Air conditioning units hummed relentlessly, pumping cool relief throughout the city.

Clara Whitmore sat cross-legged on the sofa, her laptop balanced on her knees as her fingers danced across the keyboard.

The sweet chill of watermelon lingered on her tongue.

Her phone buzzed abruptly.

Sloane Bennett's name flashed on the screen.

"It's Saturday! No classes today. You sure you don't want to go out?"

Clara glanced at the blinding sunlight outside.

"Sloane, spare me. This heat... I'm not stepping foot outside."

"Don't you want to shop for some cute outfits?!"

"I'll order online."

"What about skincare? You need to test products in person!"

"No need. I stick to my usual brands."

A frustrated growl came through the phone.

"Fine! What about groceries? Fresh produce? You have to leave for that!"

Clara shrank deeper into the sofa.

"Delivery works just fine."

Dead silence.

A realization struck Clara.

"Are you bored because work's slow?"

Sloane exhaled dramatically.

Clara frowned.

This wasn't like her.

"What happened to all those guys in your contacts?"

The old Sloane would rather do face masks than brave the scorching sun for shopping.

Teeth-grinding noises crackled through the speaker.

"Don't even ask..."

Sloane lay on the spa bed, glaring at the ceiling.

She never should've trusted that idiot Julian Cross.

He'd asked for her passcode under the guise of checking her phone.

Then immediately visited adult sites.

Her phone froze instantly from malware.

Julian swore he could fix it.

She'd been naive.

By the time her facial ended, the device was completely dead.

Even the SIM card fried.

"Sorry! I really thought I could fix it! This virus was next-level though... Want me to buy you a new one?"

Sloane clenched her fists.

If they weren't at the Cross estate, she'd punch him.

Mrs. Cross had just gifted her a priceless emerald bracelet.

And booked this luxury spa package.

She had to endure.

"Just drop it."

Julian kept rambling.

"My bad. I'll get you the latest model tomorrow."

"I said stop."

"No, I owe you. Though ten new phones couldn't replace those chat histories—"

Sloane's nails dug into her palms.

"All those puppies and wolves in your DMs... gone forever?"

Sloane inhaled sharply.

She would murder this bastard one day.