Called Off the Wedding, Left Him Bankrupt novel Chapter 199

A flicker of irritation passed through Cynthia's eyes, her dislike for Benedict deepening even further.

He really had a knack for making her life difficult.

With a sigh, she rubbed her temples and pulled up Dominic's contact, quickly typing out a message.

*Mr. Holloway, if you're worried I'll rekindle things with Benedict once I'm back in Cloudcrest, you can put your mind at ease.*

Trust between a boss and their subordinate was crucial, and nothing poisoned a workplace faster than suspicion from above.

If Dominic let Benedict's messages plant doubt in him, her job at Tremaine Holdings would only get harder.

After hitting send, Cynthia waited, but Dominic didn't reply.

Hesitating, she typed out another message.

*I take my work seriously. I wouldn't jeopardize Tremaine Holdings for the sake of an old, broken relationship.*

On the other side of town, Dominic saw her message. He'd just started typing a response when her second message came through. His fingers paused above the screen, the brief warmth in his eyes turning cold and distant again.

Cynthia's explanations were formal, strictly professional—nothing personal, nothing about him.

He stared at the chat window for a while, then finally put his phone away without replying.

Back in the car, Cynthia kept her eyes glued to the top of her screen, watching as the words "Typing…" blinked in and out of sight.

Dominic had clearly seen her messages.

She waited in silence—five minutes slipped by, but no reply came.

Her grip on the phone tightened.

What was Dominic typing, a novel's worth of accusations?

Come on, it wasn't like she'd done anything wrong. Benedict's actions had nothing to do with her.

But then the "Typing…" notification disappeared, and still, nothing from Dominic.

She waited a few more minutes, forcing herself to be patient. No response.

By the time the driver pulled up outside her grandmother's little cottage on the edge of town, Dominic still hadn't replied.

"I've been looking for you everywhere, Cynthia. I practically turned Cloudcrest upside down. When I heard you were at your grandmother's place, I came straight over. Please, open the door so we can talk."

She scowled. "So you have someone watching the house?"

"No, it's not like that," Benedict insisted. "I just wanted to know as soon as you got back. Please, Cynthia. Open the door?"

"No."

There was a long, awkward pause.

She didn't even hesitate. She'd shut the door on him without a second thought—conversation over.

Benedict took a deep breath, searching for something else to say, his words now heavy with concern.

"Cynthia, where have you been these past few days?"

She shot back, "What does it matter to you?"

His words caught in his throat, stifled by her sharp reply.