Mission: From Divorcee to Millionaire novel Chapter 624

Everett leaned against the car, bowing his head to light a cigarette, and took a slow drag. The smoke he exhaled quickly vanished into the night breeze, but his furrowed brow remained unchanged. After finishing his cigarette, he stubbed it out and pulled several gift bags from the car’s trunk, all of which he’d carefully picked out for his wife and kid. He made his way to the house.

He tried unlocking the door with his fingerprint, but the system stubbornly flashed "Incorrect password." After three failed attempts, it locked him out. Frustrated, Everett freed a hand to ring the doorbell. It rang for quite some time before Ava, wrapped in a bathrobe and looking a bit cranky, opened the door and immediately started ranting.

"Who on earth thinks it's okay to disturb someone's sleep at this hour?"

Everett’s handsome face was taut as he replied coolly, "Ava."

"Oh, it's you, sir! My apologies," Ava said, rubbing her eyes as if just realizing it was him. She opened the door wider and explained, "The lock went haywire a while back, so the missus had it replaced. She didn’t know when you'd be back, maybe thought you’d gotten yourself into trouble, so she didn’t bother telling you."

Her words were polite but dripping with hidden meaning, each one a little jab. Everett picked up on it immediately. His expression turned frostier. "You talk too much!"

"Yes, yes," Ava nodded quickly. "It's just been ages since we last saw you, sir, so I might be a tad chatty. Hope you don’t mind."

Everett just chuckled. A true chip off the old block! First meeting and Mateo gives him a slap. But Everett was used to it by now—a slap here, a scold there, all signs of affection. He lay beside Mateo for a bit, tucked him in snugly, and placed the gifts on the bedside table so they’d be the first thing Mateo saw when he woke up.

Then, he straightened his clothes and headed to the master bedroom. The moon hung high, casting a silver glow on Selena, who was lounging in a loose nightgown on a chaise by the window, absorbed in a book. She seemed oblivious to his presence, lazily flipping pages.

Everett stood there, soaking in her face and figure, feelings stirring inside him. Since her return from Paris, she had blocked all his contact methods, refusing any communication. Even when he tried using their son as a bridge to talk, she had Ava call him at fixed times to report on Mateo, treating it like a job, and hanging up immediately after, not saying a word more.