To Love a Shadow, To Be the Sun novel Chapter 22

So, that night, the two of them still slept in separate rooms.

Brian had moved into the study.

The next morning, he came downstairs dressed impeccably in a tailored suit.

He was a natural clothes horse, his poise unmistakable.

Mrs. Archer brought over breakfast.

"Has Mrs. Vincent gotten up yet?" he asked.

"Not yet, sir. Shall I go wake her?"

"No need. Let her sleep."

Well, at least Mr. Vincent still had a shred of decency.

"Mrs. Vincent hasn't been looking well lately. Do you want me to call a doctor for her?"

Brian was silent for a moment. "I'll take care of it."

Mrs. Archer ladled some soup for him. Brian took one look at the murky, unappetizing bowl—he could even catch a whiff of something fishy—and frowned.

"What is this supposed to be?"

"It's a special nourishing soup, sir. Mrs. Vincent specifically asked me to make it for you last night. She said… well, her exact words were…"

Mrs. Archer faltered, clearly embarrassed.

"She said, ‘Since you've been working so hard lately, you should really take care of yourself and eat something restorative.'"

Brian couldn't help but let out a sharp, incredulous laugh.

"Well, make sure you prepare something for her too."

After giving Mrs. Archer her instructions, Brian didn't touch the "thoughtful" breakfast Elara had prepared for him. He grabbed his car keys and headed out.

By the time Elara woke, the sun was already high in the sky.

Mrs. Archer spotted her coming downstairs and went to greet her. "Mrs. Vincent, Mr. Vincent's already left for the office. He didn't eat the breakfast you made for him."

Elara didn't bat an eye. "That's fine. He won't starve from missing one meal."

Mrs. Archer produced a manila envelope. "Mr. Vincent had barely left when a courier dropped this off. There's no recipient listed, but the address is ours, so I signed for it."

Elara glanced at the return address: Aalborg.

Anyone with half a brain could guess who was living there now.

Elara was about to shove the offensive document back into its envelope when a handful of receipts slipped out and scattered across the desk.

……

SiliconCrest Group boardroom.

Brian was listening to a report on the latest power bottleneck for their new energy helicopter project.

His phone rang—his personal ringtone.

He handed the meeting over to his vice president and stepped outside to answer.

Even now, despite the urgency, Lina's voice was as soft and syrupy as ever.

"The housekeeper from the villa just called," she said. "He told me that when he mailed you the property deed, he accidentally included some other documents."

Brian's brow furrowed. "Are they important?"

Lina hesitated for a few seconds. "They're my medical records from four years ago. The prenatal checkups… and the invoice for the abortion."