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Chapter 457

Chapter 457:
“Nigel, your son Devin is hitting thirty soon, right? Has he settled down with anyone yet?” Harold went straight to the point.
With a heavy sigh, Nigel Davidson responded, “Don’t get me started! He hasn’t settled down, and there’s not a hint of a woman in his life.
It’s so frustrating.
I’m even half-expecting him to show up with a man one day and introduce him as his boyfriend at this rate!”
Harold laughed. “Well, I might have a potential match for him.
What if I introduce her to Devin?”
Nigel’s interest was piqued immediately.
He asked, “Really? Who might that be? I have been on the lookout for a long time! My son’s standards are sky-high—none of the women I have introduced to him have caught his fancy.
He always returns from dates without so much as a comment.”
Harold said without hesitation, “You know Belinda, don’t you? How do you feel about her as a match for Devin?”
At that moment, Lucas slammed on the brakes, the car jerking to an abrupt stop.
Harold lurched forward, caught off guard, and quickly steadied himself by holding the back of the passenger seat.
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“What are you doing, you rascal?” Harold barked, glaring at Lucas. “Do you not know how to drive or something?”
Lucas didn’t respond.
His jaw clenched, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.
His expression was cold, his dark eyes glinting with anger.
Through the rearview mirror, he shot a sharp, icy glare at Harold in the back seat.
Had Harold completely lost his mind?
He wanted to set Belinda up with Devin?
Lucas wasn’t alone in his disbelief.
On the other end of the phone, Nigel was equally stunned.
“Harold, are you serious? What kind of joke is this?” Nigel said.
Harold remained calm and replied, “We’ve known each other for years, Nigel. Do you think I would joke about something like this?”
“You… You…” Nigel was at a loss for words, completely baffled by Harold’s words.
Harold then continued, undeterred, “You’ve probably already heard about Lucas and Belinda’s divorce.
My son doesn’t know how to appreciate a good woman.
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.
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