Charlotte had no desire to argue with him.
She looked off into the distance just as Bradley’s white Ferrari came into view, gliding smoothly down the road until it stopped at the curb.
The car door swung open. Bradley stepped out, those long strides carrying him straight to her.
His gaze fell first on the sunburnt flush of Charlotte’s cheeks. His voice was tinged with regret. “Lotty, I’m sorry I’m late.”
Lotty?
Darren froze.
Charlotte’s smile was warm. “Brad, as long as you’re here, you’re never too late.”
Darren: What the—?!
Lotty? Brad?
Wait a minute. Lottie and Bradley—was this some kind of couple’s nickname? When did that happen?
The realization hit Darren like a punch to the chest—twice.
Some losses didn’t need to be screamed from the rooftops. Sometimes, all it took was a pair of affectionate nicknames to remind a man he was already out of the running.
Bradley turned, acknowledging Darren with a polite nod. “Mr. Harrington. Didn’t see you there.”
His tone was breezy, as if he’d only just noticed Darren’s presence.
Darren’s eyes flashed cold. “I hear, Mr. Fairchild, you’re having your wife bid for the TOPMS Hospital artificial heart project?”
“Artificial hearts are the Harrington Group’s most advanced biotech project. Using your wife to challenge us—that’s quite the move, Mr. Fairchild.”
Bradley remained unruffled. “When Lotty’s involved, no one’s a match for her. This isn’t a challenge—it’s a done deal.”
Darren let out a short, bitter laugh. “You trust her that much?”
“Of course.” Bradley didn’t hesitate. “She’s my wife. If I can’t trust her, who can I trust?”
Bradley’s words cut like a saw, prying Darren’s teeth apart just to force-feed him this sickening display of affection.
Darren could practically taste blood in his mouth.
If not her, who else?
He glanced down at Charlotte, his mind reeling for a moment.

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