Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 81

The chief strode out with a grim expression, waving for the younger officers to enter the house first.

The middle-aged couple exchanged a glance, still clueless about the gravity of the situation. "Director Sinclair, what's that supposed to mean? You've always cut us some slack out of respect for my brother, haven't you? Besides, you know exactly what's going on with our son!"

Director Sinclair's face darkened, his voice cold. "I know, but don't you, as his parents, know as well?"

"How many times is this now? You just let him wander off without anyone watching him. Every single time something happens, who's the one bailing your son out? Me!"

The couple were left speechless, unable to argue back.

Sinclair shook them off and turned his back. "It's not that I don't want to help, but this time, he's picked the wrong people to mess with. If I step in, I might as well clear out my office right now."

"I don't care. My son is sick. I'd like to see who exactly he's not supposed to cross!"

Seeing the woman's ignorant defiance, Sinclair's expression turned almost black with exasperation. Poor Commissioner Yates, saddled with such a foolish sister—he'd used up all his good luck just having her in the family.

"That's the Howard family. If you're so tough, why don't you go after them yourself?"

The woman froze, as if reality had slapped her hard across the face. She stood there, stunned and silent.

…

Night had fallen. Charlotte was in that hazy place between dreaming and waking when she suddenly sensed a presence by her bed. She jolted fully awake.

In the half-light streaming from the hallway, she finally made out the man's face—handsome and shadowed in the dimness.

Evander sat there with his legs crossed in the visitor's chair, idly turning his wristwatch. "Why didn't you tell anyone about the hospital?"

Charlotte, her heart still racing from the scare, slowly sat up. "Would it have made any difference? But really, Mr. Howard, you showing up here is a surprise."

Hearing her toss out "Mr. Howard" again and again, Evander's eyes flicked up, locking on her pale face.

After a long pause, he leaned forward, looking straight at her. "Do you have to be so sarcastic with me?"

"Didn't you say, out there, we should act like strangers?"

He stared at her for a moment, jaw clenched, silent.

The quiet stretched on, making Charlotte increasingly uncomfortable. She pulled the blanket closer. "If there's nothing else, Mr. Howard, I'd like to get some rest."

She lay down again, turning her back to him.

She figured he'd leave soon—but he didn't.

"…."

Charlotte stared at him, half-convinced she was hearing things.

"Why?" she blurted out before she could stop herself.

Back when she was sick before, he'd never spared her a glance. And now, he wanted to stay with her?

Evander's eyes were dark, unfathomable.

Why?

He didn't know why either. He wanted to know what it was about this woman that unsettled him so much.

"Charlotte." He said her name softly.

She looked at him, utterly confused.

"Have we met before?"