The little girl’s father clearly noticed that something was off with Landon. His heart skipped a beat, and he quickly said, “They’re still young. They’ll have kids of their own someday—you really don’t need to ask so many questions.”
He didn’t even wait for the elevator to reach their floor. Turning to the pair, he said, “Mr. Ford, Mrs. Ford, it’s been a pleasure meeting you. See you around.”
As soon as the elevator doors slid shut, the man scooped his daughter into his arms and bolted down the hallway, as if he feared Landon might take his frustration out on the poor child.
The elevator continued its descent. Landon’s jaw was clenched tight, unease written all over his face.
After a moment, Zinnia heard his rough voice break the silence. “I’m sorry.”
“Hm?” She looked up, confused. “For what?”
She had no idea why Landon was suddenly apologizing.
He attempted a stiff smile but didn’t seem to know how to begin.
When the elevator finally reached the parking garage, Zinnia stepped out first. She was just about to walk ahead when Landon called after her.
“Zinnia.”
She turned to face him.
He pressed his lips together, walked up to her, and spoke quietly. “If… if I hadn’t been so indulgent with Noelle, do you think… do you think we might already have a child by now?”
It took nearly all the courage he had to voice the question. Or maybe he was just testing the waters—hoping to catch the faintest glimmer of hope in her answer.
But Zinnia only paused for a second before giving a breezy laugh.
“That’s impossible,” she replied, firm and matter-of-fact. “There was no clause about having a child in our contract.”
The contract…
Just hearing those words was enough to make Landon’s chest tighten painfully.
“We’re about to get divorced. Having a child would only make things more complicated, don’t you think?” Zinnia’s tone was light, her expression detached—as if they were discussing a project that was never meant to happen, not the possibility of a child.

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