I Forgot I Ever Loved You (Zoe and Hayden) novel Chapter 642

Garrett concluded that talking to Hayden was a trap. The man's mind was a labyrinth of calculations, constantly setting invisible snares. It was no wonder he had ruthlessly built Thorne Enterprises into a global empire at such a young age.

Without another word, Garrett turned and walked away.

Through dinner, Zoe's phone practically lived in her hand as she continued to quietly fire off messages.

Suddenly, little Ian, who was sitting in his highchair next to Zoe, let out a loud wail. As Zoe leaned over to soothe him, her phone screen lit up, and Hayden's sharp gaze locked onto it.

The name at the top of the chat thread made Hayden's blood run cold: *Hunter*.

No wonder Garrett had refused to give him a straight answer—he was running interference for their illicit rendezvous. A dark scoff echoed in Hayden's mind. He was barely out of the picture, their divorce finalized mere weeks ago, and she was already rushing back into her ex-lover's arms. Was it pure hatred driving her, or had this been orchestrated all along?

Then, his eyes caught the final message: *Day after tomorrow, noon, Acacia Restaurant.*

Hayden picked up his water glass and took a slow sip. The tasteless water might as well have been a vintage red wine, given the icy, aristocratic composure he maintained to mask the raging inferno inside him.

While Zoe was struggling to calm the baby, the nanny hurried over and smiled gently. "Ms. Lynd, he just needs a diaper change. I'll take care of it."

Zoe flushed with embarrassment. She was his mother, yet she hadn't even realized what he needed.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Sylvia Kendall said warmly, noticing Zoe's guilt. "You've been incredibly busy with work and managing Lily's schedule. You aren't expected to know everything instantly. When Garrett was a newborn, I was clueless. He'd be screaming from hunger, chewing on his little fists, and I thought he wanted to play! I took him for a thirty-minute stroll, and by the time we got back, he nearly swallowed the bottle whole."

Sylvia's fond recounting of Garrett's humiliating childhood moments was purely to make Zoe feel better. Garrett sighed, accepting his fate as the sacrificial lamb if it meant easing Zoe's anxiety.

"It's perfectly fine if we don't know everything right now," Hayden interjected smoothly. "As his father, I should be learning too. Zoe, if you don't mind, we can spend more time interacting with Ian. We could even take him and Lily outdoors when we're off the clock."

Hayden had been on his best behavior lately, but Zoe felt a prickle of unease. He usually played a long, cautious game to avoid triggering her anger, but this sudden push for 'family time' felt rushed and calculating.

She had no interest in humoring him. Even if she wanted to bond more with Ian, she preferred to do it on her own terms—not starring in some fake happy-family charade orchestrated by Hayden.

Garrett almost laughed. He wondered how Zoe would react if she realized what Hayden was actually insinuating. But there were lines Garrett wouldn't cross. Whatever Zoe chose to do romantically, he respected her autonomy. He only hoped she would find a genuinely good man who could give her and the kids the quiet, happy life they deserved.

"Stop talking in riddles, Hayden," Zoe snapped, her patience fraying. "What exactly is your problem? Spit it out."

He wasn't her boss, and they certainly weren't married anymore. She was a free woman. Whoever she chose to interact with was her business. Hayden had permanently forfeited his right to be jealous.

"You know exactly what you're doing behind everyone's back," Hayden said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Hunter is a married man. Don't you feel the slightest bit of shame chatting up someone else's husband all day?"

Zoe let out a sharp laugh.

"Mind your own business. I could go out and find ten married men right now, and it would have absolutely nothing to do with you. You're reaching too far, Mr. Thorne."

Hayden's lungs seized, nearly choking on his own fury. He sat rigidly in his chair, a vein pulsing dangerously at his temple as his knuckles turned white around his glass.