York remained silent, his frown deepening, his expression darkening by the second. Because Sharon hadn't come to greet him.
Usually, no matter how late he returned, she was always the first to rush over. She would help him with his coat, bring him his slippers, and ask if he was hungry or exhausted from work. Every single night, she made sure the kitchen prepared soup for him. A different recipe every day, never repeating. She would practically force him to sit on the sofa while she served him a bowl at the perfect temperature. Once he finished, she'd massage his temples, shoulders, and neck.-
But tonight, the massive, luxurious living room was cold and empty.
Without a word, York walked over to the sofa and sat down, his face a mask of displeasure.
There was no soup on the table. It was completely bare.
His handsome features grew even colder, taking on a severe, almost intimidating edge.
Noticing him looking around, Wanda nervously spoke up. "Sir, Mrs. Fordham... left."
"Left?" York shifted his cold gaze to the housekeeper, his tone like ice. "What do you mean she left?"
"I-I don't know," Wanda stammered. "She didn't say where she was going. She just packed up and went out. When I asked... she wouldn't say. All she told me was... not to worry about it."
Hearing this, an uncontrollable surge of anger flared in York's chest! He pulled out his phone and immediately dialed Sharon's number.
But it rang and rang with no answer.
Sharon had just finished taking a shower. She had settled into bed and picked up her phone, only then noticing York's missed call.
She checked the time—midnight.
Frowning slightly, she decided to call him back.
York answered instantly, immediately taking the offensive. "Playing the runaway wife now?"


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