She could drive herself just fine. Still, whenever Soren was stuck at the old estate and couldn’t make it home, she’d show up at his office to wait for him. They’d ride back together, sharing the same car on the way to the mansion.
Hearing this, Evangeline remembered too.
Back then, she’d adored Soren, but their time together was limited. She never dared to intrude, so she’d find any excuse to make use of the scraps of his day—just to sit beside him, even if neither of them said a word. That alone made her happy.
A wry smile flickered across Evangeline’s lips.
Thinking of how Soren had brought up the baby recently, she asked in a cool voice, “So, is this your way of making it up to me for losing the baby?”
She couldn’t imagine any other reason Soren would do these things.
Soren pressed his lips together.
That wasn’t it.
He simply felt a strange urge to do something for her.
To know her a little better.
Somewhere along the way, he’d realized he didn’t understand her nearly as well as he’d thought.
When he didn’t answer, Evangeline gave a dry laugh. “Soren, I told you. Unless you put Poppy behind bars and get justice for my child, I won’t accept any form of compensation.”
Her child was dead, and the person responsible wanted to ease his guilt with a few shallow gestures?
How convenient for him.
“Stop following me,” she said, turning to leave.
On impulse, Soren caught her wrist.
He opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment, a red convertible pulled up beside them.
Evangeline turned her head and saw Finn behind the wheel.
He wore dark sunglasses and a silver suit; his cropped hair was tousled by the breeze, giving him an easy, rakish charm.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Finn pushed his sunglasses up onto his head and winked at her.
Soren’s face darkened.
“Ah, your ex-husband’s here too,” Finn remarked breezily. “But since you’re divorced, it’s probably best to keep a little distance, don’t you think, Mr. Fawkes?”
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