Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 45

Charlotte had slept soundly in the guest room last night—her first truly restful sleep in ages.

It wasn't until breakfast the next morning that she saw Evander at the dining table. He looked unusually tired, a rare exhaustion shadowing his normally striking, fair features.

Lana brought out breakfast, half-expecting Charlotte to reach out and help, as she always used to. But Charlotte sat motionless, her hands folded in her lap, showing no intent to assist. Lana paused, surprised by the sudden change, picking up on the tension between them.

Had they argued?

Evander buttoned his cuffs with methodical care, his gaze fixed on the untouched breakfast. He remembered how, in the past, whenever he stayed at Tranquility Manor, Charlotte would always rise early to make him breakfast. Now, she slept in later than he did.

He picked up his knife and fork with deliberate slowness, glancing over to see Charlotte quietly eating her own meal, completely absorbed, as if he wasn't even there. His lips pressed into a thin line. After a moment, he set down his silverware with a frustrated clatter.

"Sir, is your breakfast not to your liking?" Lana asked, worry flickering in her eyes.

She couldn't help wondering—if she failed at breakfast, would her pay be docked?

Charlotte paused but said nothing.

"I'm not hungry," Evander replied, rising from the table. He grabbed his coat from the back of his chair and left without another word.

Lana hesitated, watching the door slam shut behind him. She turned to Charlotte, looking stricken. "Ma'am, is the food really that bad today?"

Charlotte shook her head, her voice gentle but weary. "No, Lana, don't worry. He lost his appetite for reasons that have nothing to do with breakfast."

Lana's face relaxed into a sheepish grin. "That's a relief—as long as I'm not getting in trouble."

After a moment's thought, she added, "Forgive me for saying so, but ma'am, I can tell he cares about you. He wouldn't get upset otherwise."

Charlotte blinked, caught off guard.

Evander cared about her? That had to be the most ridiculous thing she'd heard all week.

She forced a smile. "Lana, are you sure you're not imagining things?"

"Did she say what it's about?"

"No, just asked you to come by."

Charlotte nodded and made her way to Tricia's office.

As soon as she opened the door, Tricia's son Hans aimed a toy water gun at her and fired, giggling from the corner. "Bad lady gets squirted!"

A huge wet spot spread across Charlotte's top. She scowled, fighting the urge to pin the little brat to the floor.

Tricia strolled over, perfectly calm, and offered a handkerchief. "Sorry, Dr. Sterling. He's a handful. Don't take it personally. Do you want to use this to dry off?"

Charlotte shook her head and fished a tissue from her purse. "If there's nothing else, I'll head back to my office."

Tricia put away the handkerchief, raising an eyebrow but not losing her composure. "Still as headstrong as ever, Dr. Sterling. But don't forget—I'm your boss now."