Standing in the living room, she gazed around the space she’d once poured so much of her heart and affection into.
Surprisingly, she didn’t feel much attachment—if anything, a sense of quiet resignation washed over her.
Her eyes drifted to the large terrace. It was barren now.
All the flowers and plants Noelle had ruined had long since been cleared away.
She stood there for a moment, silent, then finally looked away, opened the door, and stepped out.
Ford Group.
“Mr. Ford, your coffee.”
“Just leave it.”
Ever since returning from the hospital, Landon hadn’t managed to shake off the simmering irritation in his chest.
He’d sensed something different about Zinnia ever since she got back from Norway.
She’d changed—become someone he no longer recognized or could control.
Worse, he realized the composure he’d always prided himself on had unraveled more than once because of her.
He remembered the look in Zinnia’s eyes before she left the hospital—calm, unreadable. A sudden wave of panic swept through him.
A sharp pain pinched his chest, as if someone had jabbed a needle straight through his heart.
He jerked, and the cup of coffee in his hand splashed down the front of his crisp white shirt, leaving a sprawling stain.
“Damn it!”
Annoyed, he clicked his tongue and reached for a napkin, but someone darted in before he could react.
“Mr. Ford, are you all right? Did you burn yourself? Let me see,” the woman blurted out, already reaching for the buttons on his shirt.
A cloud of heavy perfume hit him, almost choking.
His frown deepened. Without hesitation, Landon shoved her away.
He fixed her with a cold, cutting glare.
The woman shrank under his gaze, trembling where she stood.


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