To Love a Shadow, To Be the Sun novel Chapter 266

Zane watched the rain streaking down the window, his voice cool and measured. “Are you certain about Surplus’s identity?”

“Uh…”

Still investigating, aren’t we?

Quincy Shelton fumbled for words, caught off guard.

Zane’s gaze didn’t waver. “If the Surplus who died wasn’t the one I’m looking for, do you think she’d agree to being a mistress?”

The realization hit Quincy all at once. He sighed, shaking his head. “That really is a shame. All these years, aside from searching for your wife, this is the first time I’ve seen you care so much about a woman. Just hope you won’t regret it if someone else starts pursuing Miss Jules.”

Zane pressed his lips together, saying nothing.

The day he’d gotten the call, his first reaction hadn’t been relief at finally tracking down the DNA match. Instead, a different, sharper thought had struck him.

If he let himself go to Elara now, what would he do when the Grove family’s true heiress one day returned?

An engagement was a duty; falling for someone else had been an accident.

If he didn’t rein himself in, was he just going to let her get entangled until she was in too deep—until she had no choice but to bend, to make herself small?

Elara had already been scarred by one failed marriage. How could he bear to drag her into another mess?

Meanwhile, Horace pulled the car up beside Elara.

“Miss Jules, your ride can’t get in here with this rain. Let me give you a lift,” he offered.

Elara hesitated, then nodded and climbed in.

Inside the Lincoln, Quincy glanced at the rearview mirror, then let out a low whistle. “Well, look at that—Horace is really making a move. Might need to watch out for that guy.”

Zane’s eyes flickered to the mirror as well, his expression unreadable, thoughts hidden deep.

Elara managed to avoid getting soaked, but she still came down with a fever after she got home.

Everything that had happened over the past few days had left her drained, her defenses worn thin.

That evening, Rose Linden called to say she’d come by tomorrow to make her some homemade chicken soup, asking whether she should bring it by the office or drop it off at Elara’s apartment.

Elara’s throat was raw. She told Rose she hadn’t been able to eat anything lately, then hung up.

The next morning, a little after nine, Elara woke to find her fever gone and her throat much better.

She shuffled out to the living room and found Ryan in the kitchen.

Sunlight slanted through the window, outlining his broad shoulders. His pink shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbows, apron strings pulled tight across his back, accentuating clean lines and quiet strength.

As he stirred the pasta, there was a gentle focus to his movements.

Elara noticed he was noticeably more solid than he’d been four years ago, back when they parted.

She hadn’t even washed up yet—leaning against the doorway, she raked a hand through her messy hair. “Don’t you have work?”

Ryan didn’t turn around, still tending the pot. “I told Summer I’d go in when you’re feeling better.”

Elara folded her arms. “I meant, why aren’t you at the office?”

The feud between him and Jason Lawrence was notorious. There’s no way he’d just ignore work—not when Jason would jump at any chance to use it against him.

Ryan paused, then turned to look at her, an easy, unhurried smile playing across his face.