Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 38

Charlotte returned to her office and immediately noticed a message from Jonathan.

Around four thirty that afternoon, she arrived at the Sleep Research Institute, where Jonathan was waiting.

It wasn't until she stepped inside that she realized, with some surprise, this was the very institute named in the project proposal Tricia had given her.

Jonathan stood up to greet her, his trademark teasing never far away. "Charlotte, I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost. This place isn't exactly huge, but it's easy enough to get turned around."

She took a seat on the couch, glancing around the room. "This place belongs to you?"

Jonathan poured her some tea. "Not really. I just have a stake in it. Why do you ask?"

Charlotte shook her head and got straight to the point. "Did you really get those witness statements?"

"Of course." Jonathan pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and placed it on the table in front of her. "Take a look."

Charlotte unfolded the note.

The name "Howard" leapt out at her.

She felt the room sway for a moment.

Howard…

Evander?

But she'd tried probing Evander about it that night. He hadn't shown even the slightest hint of unease. Was it possible he could hide the truth so well?

"Jonathan, are you sure this is the name they gave?"

Jonathan sighed. "I asked them several times. That's what they said. And they added that whoever it was, they'd never dare cross someone with that kind of background." He took a slow sip of tea, his gaze thoughtful. "Honestly, who else could it be but the Howard family?"

Charlotte's grip tightened on the note, nearly crumpling it in her fist.

After a moment, she drew a deep breath. "Thank you, Jonathan. Let me buy you dinner sometime."

Jonathan arched an eyebrow, grinning. "You said it. Don't blame me if I eat you out of house and home."

She managed a smile. "I'll take my chances."

As Jonathan walked her downstairs, a small group approached from the other end of the corridor.

Leading them was a man in a charcoal tailored suit with an old-world flair—refined, assured, the kind of presence that made you feel you'd seen him somewhere before, even if you hadn't.

Even here, he hadn't exchanged a single word with Charlotte.

Just like always.

In public, they were strangers.

That had never changed.

Charlotte wasn't even sure how she made it outside. Her mind was blank, her steps unsteady. She would have tripped on the stairs if Jonathan hadn't caught her arm. "Watch your step."

She started, glancing down.

There were steps in front of her.

Flushing, she murmured, "Sorry, I was distracted."

Jonathan looked genuinely concerned. "Are you sure you're alright? You're okay to drive?"

She managed a small laugh. "Don't worry. I'm not about to risk my life being careless."

She valued her life far too much for that.