Boss, Your Ex-Wife is Unreachable Now! novel Chapter 93

They stayed at Ms. Whitmore's place until after dinner before heading out.

Before the meal, at Ms. Whitmore's gentle suggestion, Willow exchanged WhatsApp contacts with Ian and Waller. She knew neither of them was the type to post updates or share much online, so she didn't refuse—nor did she have a good reason to.

In her previous life, when they first met, they hadn't swapped WhatsApp but phone numbers. Even later, when they did add each other on WhatsApp, they always called directly whenever something came up; they never messaged.

On the way home, Klein glanced over and asked in a tentative tone, "So, what do you think of those two young men?"

Willow was driving and, without much thought, answered, "They're both nice. But honestly, I'm not considering relationships for at least a few years."

Her tone left no room for negotiation.

Klein nodded. "Alright, I understand. No rush—you're still young," he said, though a hint of disappointment crept in despite having expected that answer.

After spending just half a day together, Klein actually felt that either Ian or Waller would be a much better match for Willow than Beasley ever was.

A real shame, he thought.

—

Willow dropped her dad off at his place before returning to her own apartment complex.

Ms. Whitmore had given them a crate of grapes as a parting gift; Willow split it evenly with her father.

She parked in the garage and grabbed her half-crate, heading for the elevator. Her floor was on the twentieth story, and as the doors closed behind her, a thought struck: if Beasley really had bought an apartment here, which building was his in? God forbid he lived in the same building as her.

As she was mulling it over, the elevator reached the twentieth floor and the doors slid open. Willow looked up and, as if conjured by her worries, saw a man standing right outside.

Speak of the devil.

That sensation was truly indescribable; only someone who's been through it would understand.

After tidying up at home, Willow went online to search for the most reputable clinics specializing in psychological counseling, planning to go first thing in the morning.

By eight the next morning, she was driving to a well-known psychiatric hospital in Ashbury City, where she booked an appointment with a clinical psychologist.

Almost simultaneously, Sanford—on the other side of town—caught wind of Willow's appointment thanks to some advanced tech.

He immediately called Beasley.

Beasley had just finished his morning run and was toweling off the sweat from his forehead when he saw Sanford's name flash on his phone. He answered at once.

"Did you find something new?" he asked, dabbing his brow with the clean towel slung around his neck.