Chapter 339
The black limousine descended from the overpass and turned toward Lakeside Manor.
The car window slowly lowered.
Liam Sullivan undid his platinum cufflinks, carelessly rolling his dress shirt sleeves up to his elbows.
The solid lines of his arms were faintly visible in the night.
He lit a cigarette.
The cold wind carried the scent of smoke into the car, cutting through some of his drunken haze.
"Turn right."
The man's voice was deep.
The driver paused, instinctively turning the steering wheel.
The boss was unusually out of character tonight.
"Right again."
"Go straight."
"Enter the complex."
A series of commands left the driver scrambling.
Liam was usually a man of few words, but tonight he was like a human GPS.
The car entered a familiar residential area.
The driver finally understood—this was Miss Vivian's place.
The back seat suddenly fell silent.
Through the rearview mirror, the driver cautiously glanced.
Liam leaned back against the leather seat, his collar disheveled.
The usual air of arrogance and nobility was completely gone.
His eyes were tightly shut, brows furrowed as if he was enduring immense pain.
The car gradually slowed.
It finally stopped beneath a particular building.
"Stop."
The man suddenly spoke.
Then came a barely audible murmur.
"Vivian... I'm not getting married."
Vivian Bennett had a rare free evening.
The afternoon meeting ended early, so she went home ahead of time.
After a simple dinner and finishing her remaining work, she indulged in a comfortable hot bath.
The bathroom was filled with steam.
She stepped out, drying her hair, and noticed several missed calls on her phone.
They were all work-related.
She couldn't be bothered to return them and went straight to her dressing table.
Her fingertips unconsciously brushed over her earlobes.
They were empty.
A man's suit hung in her bedroom.
Her gaze skimmed over it before quickly looking away.
The hair dryer hummed.
As her hair gradually dried, she remembered the clothes still hanging on the balcony.
She pushed open the glass door, and a cold wind hit her face.
Her burgundy silk nightgown clung to her skin, the hem barely covering her thighs.
She hurried to the clothesline, gathered the laundry, and was about to go back inside.
As she turned, her eyes inadvertently glanced down toward the street.
A black limousine slowly drove along the tree-lined road.
The complex's newly installed lighting system was exceptionally bright, the streetlights winding like a river of stars.
That car looked familiar.
She squinted, but by the time she looked again, the car had vanished into the night.
It must have been her imagination.
Vivian withdrew her gaze and gently closed the door.
She curled up on the sofa, her fingers unconsciously rubbing her cold ankles.