The Heart Left Behind (Cole and Yvonne) novel Chapter 80

Back at Havendor Manor, Jonas was on the phone, whispering as if he were planning something covert.

"You said you wanted to help Daddy. Do you have a plan yet?" he asked Xavier.

On the other end, Xavier, despite his usual reluctance, was eager to prove himself. He didn't like showing it, but deep down, he desperately craved my approval.

"I can handle it myself," Xavier replied, his tone sharp.

Jonas frowned, his little face scrunched up in concern. "What are you planning? Don't go to Mr. Lawson, okay? He's not trustworthy."

Xavier huffed, irritated. "Don't talk about him like that. He's nice."

"No, he's not," Jonas muttered under his breath, though it was loud enough to carry through the phone.

"What did you say about Jared?" Xavier's voice was suddenly sharp and challenging.

"I didn't say anything!" Jonas quickly denied it, his voice trembling. He was afraid that admitting the truth might mean Xavier would stop helping me.

…

Meanwhile, Xavier's room was dimly lit by the glow of his laptop. His fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard, his small face illuminated with determination.

He had overheard snippets about Joplin Group's share prices dropping. He didn't understand everything, but he knew enough. If the numbers were falling, someone needed to fix them—and he decided that someone was him.

He had been secretly saving the allowance money Grandma had given him, and it was enough for his plan. Not even Yvonne knew about it.

He decided to invest it all in Joplin Group's shares, leveraging every trick he had picked up from overhearing the conversations between adults and online forums.

He muttered under his breath, "Just a little manipulation, and the prices will bounce back once the bad news dies down."

With a final click of the keyboard, he leaned back triumphantly. "Done!" he announced to the phone. "He's gonna win now."

Jonas, still on the other end, scolded him softly, "Is he not 'Daddy' to you, huh?"

But before I could finish my sentence, she cut me off, "I brought you something." She held up the bag. "I wasn't sure what you'd like."

She began pulling out neatly packed containers, setting them on the table with practiced ease.

I blinked, momentarily stunned. It had been years since anyone had cooked for me. When I was with Yvonne, it was always takeout or meals prepared by the housekeeper. She had never once offered to step into the kitchen.

The thought made me bitter, but seeing Lorraine's quiet pride melted some of that.

"Did you make all this?" I asked, looking at the dishes. The aroma was rich, the colors vibrant—it was clear she was good at this.

"It's just some simple home-cooked food," she said, almost shyly.

"Home-cooked? That's my favorite." I didn't hesitate and grabbed a generous bite of one of the dishes. The flavors were perfect, warm, and comforting. "Not bad at all," I said, grinning.

Lorraine stayed near the table, looking uncharacteristically nervous like she wasn't sure where she fit in. Her hesitation reminded me of someone playing the part of a quiet, submissive spouse, and for some reason, it made me smile.