To Love a Shadow, To Be the Sun novel Chapter 77

After dinner, Elara and Chuck parted ways at the restaurant entrance.

They exchanged contact information, just in case they needed to meet again at the shelter.

Elara watched as Chuck walked away. When she turned around, she nearly collided with Brian's chest.

Startled, she stepped back, pressing a hand to her heart. "What are you doing?"

"You never wear dresses like that," Brian said.

She'd been married to him for four years, always holding herself to the standards of a perfect wife and mother. Even though she was just twenty-six, she always hid her figure under loose fabrics, as if afraid that anything too bright or flattering would make her seem frivolous.

But this dress was different. It made her look younger, and, to Brian's annoyance, hugged her slender waist in a way he couldn't ignore.

He wasn't suspicious about her and Chuck, but seeing her dressed like this in front of Chuck made something prickly twist in his chest.

Elara arched an eyebrow at him, her tone cool. "What, is wearing white supposed to be your sister's exclusive right?"

Brian didn't get angry; instead, a crooked smile appeared on his face. "You look better in it than anyone."

Elara nodded. "You really have been paying attention, haven't you?"

Brian pressed his lips together. Whenever she was upset, every word from her mouth seemed to have a hidden barb.

When Elara saw he had nothing else to say, she turned to go, but he grabbed her arm. "Let's go home."

"I can get to Platinum Bay by myself," she said.

That place wasn't home anymore; it was just somewhere she was staying until the divorce was finalized.

A muscle jumped in Brian's jaw. "We need to talk on the way."

Elara didn't see what there was left to discuss, but Brian was insistent, practically dragging her to the car.

"I've looked into Nanette's medical records. She really is sick, so you don't need to bother her doctor to try and sniff out the truth," he said as he drove.

Her thoughts had been guessed, but Elara only smiled faintly, showing no embarrassment.

Brian saw her skepticism and added, "The samples tested are real; the lab double-checked. It's cancer. I just didn't expect her to make things difficult for you, even now."

Brian ground his teeth. "I want your pasta."

"How many housekeepers do you have, Mr. Vincent?"

She didn't wait for his answer. With a hand pressed to her lower back, she disappeared into her room.

A few days ago, she'd installed a latch on her door, but someone had already taken it off. Elara muttered a silent curse at Brian's ancestors.

Mrs. Archer, noticing Brian's sour mood, hurried over. "Mr. Vincent, a cold heart can't be warmed with a few kind words. I'll make you some pasta—just give me a minute."

Brian's frustration was written all over his face.

He remembered, not long after their wedding, being diagnosed with a stomach infection. Elara had been so anxious, making sure he got treatment right away. After that, she became obsessed with his diet.

She'd monitor every meal, insisting he eat on time, forbidding anything spicy or cold, as if she could guard his health by sheer willpower.

If he was out and couldn't take her with him, she'd make sure Yves Caldwell watched over him instead.