Chapter 138

Sean POV

The rain dripped from my hair as I stared out the window of the town car, watching the dreary landscape scroll past in a blur of grays and muted greens. Angela sat across from me, wrapped in my jacket, her skin still too pale after her collapse at the cemetery.

I couldn't understand her anger back there, her accusation ringing in my ears: "If it weren't for you, I never would have left Elizabeth." What the hell did that even mean?

Five years ago, she was the one who told me she loved Christopher Blake. I still remember that moment with painful clarity-standing in our living room, her eyes avoiding mine as she said those words that shattered everything: "I love him. I love Christopher."

Yes, technically I was the one who suggested we go to court to finalize the divorce, but what choice did she leave me? She'd already decided to replace me.

And now she had the audacity to act like I was the villain in our story? Like I was the reason she missed saying goodbye to Elizabeth? What right did she have to place that guilt on me?

The car pulled up to the hotel, and Thomas rushed forward with an umbrella, helping Angela inside while I followed, my clothes still soaked through despite the towel I'd used earlier.

Once back in my hotel suite, I peeled off my wet clothes and stepped into a scalding shower, trying to wash away both the physical chill and the confusion clouding my mind.

After changing into dry clothes, I picked up my phone, staring at Angela's contact.

Despite my irritation, I found myself tapping out a message: Lunch in thirty minutes?

Her response came quickly: No, I need to rest. Thank you.

I tossed the phone onto the bed, frustration building beneath my ribs. Thomas knocked tentatively at the door, then entered when I called out.

"Ms. Wilson declined the lunch invitation?" he asked carefully, quickly pocketing his phone when he saw my expression.

"She says she needs to rest," I replied, not bothering to hide my annoyance.

Thomas nodded sympathetically. "She's had a difficult morning, sir. The emotional strain of visiting Mrs. Shaw's grave, plus her fainting spell... Perhaps she genuinely needs the rest?"

I said nothing, just walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind me. If she wanted space, fine. I'd give her space.

Around noon, Thomas arranged for food to be delivered. While I was still on a restricted diet, I'd graduated from bland soups to more substantial fare. I picked at the grilled chicken and steamed vegetables, my appetite dampened not by my physical condition but by my thoughts of Angela.

"She's been resting for how long now?" I asked, breaking the silence.

Thomas checked his watch. "About two hours, sir."

"Order lunch for her too," I instructed, ignoring the twist of hunger in my stomach that had nothing to do with food.

Thomas hesitated. "But Ms. Wilson said-"

"Is there something wrong with eating before resting?" I cut him off sharply.

"Of course not. I'll arrange it immediately," he replied, reaching for his phone.

I returned to the window, watching raindrops race down the glass. Rest. That's all she seemed to want-rest from her company, rest from her responsibilities, rest from me.

Twenty minutes later, I heard voices in the hallway. Stepping out of my thoughts, I moved to the door, listening.

"I've rung several times, but there's no answer," a hotel staff member was saying.

Something cold slithered through my chest. I yanked open my door and stepped into the hallway.

"Is there a problem?" I asked, eyeing the food cart parked outside Angela's room.

"Sir, we've brought the meal you ordered, but it seems your friend isn't answering," the server explained.

Thomas immediately stepped forward. "I'll call her," he offered, already dialing. The phone rang on speaker, and my muscles tensed with each tone.

"Hello?" Angela's voice came through clearly-too clearly for someone who'd just woken up.

"Ms. Wilson, have you rested well?" Thomas asked carefully. "If you're awake, could you please open the door? Mr. Shaw has arranged lunch to be delivered to your room."

"That won't be necessary, Thomas. Thank you for your concern, but I've already left the hotel."

The words hit me like a physical blow. Left? After we'd just visited Elizabeth's grave together?

"What? Ms. Wilson, you-" Thomas stammered, looking as surprised as I felt.

"I'm on my way back to New York. Please let Sean know."

I snatched the phone from Thomas's hand. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me correctly. How convenient that you're already on the line, so Thomas doesn't need to relay the message." Her voice was infuriatingly composed.

"Angela, what is this supposed to mean?" I fought to keep my anger in check.

"Nothing in particular. This was just a transaction between us, remember? I told you at the hospital-I only came to see Elizabeth. Now that I've fulfilled our agreement, I need to get back to New York. I have work waiting for me."

"Weren't you supposedly unwell and needing rest?" I gritted out, my fingers tightening around the phone.

"Yes, I rested for twenty minutes. Is that a problem?" Her casual dismissal made my blood boil.

"Wait for me there," I commanded.

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Mr. Shaw. I've already purchased my ticket and will be departing shortly. Even if you came now, you wouldn't make it in time."

"Angela, do you think returning to New York puts you beyond my reach?" The threat slipped out before I could stop it.

"What exactly are you implying, Mr. Shaw? I'm simply returning to work. Is there something wrong with that?" Her feigned innocence was like gasoline on a fire.

"Fine. Go back to New York. Just wait for me there." My voice had gone cold, detached.

"Of course. I'll eagerly await your grand arrival," she replied, sarcasm dripping from every word.

The call ended, and I stood frozen, a wave of betrayal washing over me. We had just stood together at Elizabeth's grave. She had collapsed in my arms, her vulnerability so raw and real. And now she was fleeing like a thief in the night.

I handed the phone back to Thomas, my expression dark enough that he took a step back.

"Ms. Wilson has already left town?" he asked cautiously.

"Gone back to New York," I replied curtly, my mind already mapping out my next moves.

Thomas turned to the server. "You can take the food back. The guest has departed."

As they left, I remained in the doorway, staring at the empty hallway. What was she running from?