She Turned Her Grief Into Wings novel Chapter 102

"Alright, alright, split it in half. Two for Shera, four for Mr. Jewell."

Shera picked up her glass, sighed as she looked at Rhys, and said, "Sorry to drag you into this."

Seeing her looking like a martyr, Rhys chuckled. "It's my pleasure."

Watching their interaction, the people around them looked like they were watching a romantic movie unfold.

Their boss and this Mr. Jewell were a perfect match, whether in personality or looks.

And it was blatantly obvious that he was interested in her.

Not only did they look good together, but even their matching last names felt like destiny.

They didn't know about their shared past. If they found out they had grown up together as foster siblings, they might have reacted differently.

The group didn't wrap up until after ten o'clock. Shera hadn't drank much, but she was still a little tipsy.

She was about to call a cab, but Rhys insisted it wasn't safe and had his driver take her home personally.

He had an ulterior motive; he wanted a few more minutes alone with her.

Since their reunion, she had inexplicably distanced herself from him.

He didn't know if it was because he was no longer hiding his feelings for her, or if she blamed him for losing touch all those years.

Or maybe, in her heart, he was just a pretend family member from her childhood, a relic of the past.

But whatever the reason, he wanted to break through those walls.

He wanted to actively fight for her and protect what mattered.

Growing up, he had lived in darkness and calculation, never knowing what it meant to be loved.

Before he was taken in by the Jewell family, he didn't even know what love was.

His father's neglect, the staff's disdain, the hostility from his "siblings."

His childhood was bleak, his only companion an old dog kept by the gardener.

When the gardener left, he gave the dog to him.

He used to crawl into the kennel with that old dog, leaning against it to sleep, whispering his secrets to it.

That dog was his only friend, his only emotional anchor.

Later, the dog was beaten to death by Hector's adopted son. He knew it was because of him.

He was given a new name, a new life.

He was no longer Jerome. He was Rhys.

Someone cared. Someone protected him.

As the driver navigated the streets, the river breeze swept in, catching Shera's hair.

She smelled like sweet jasmine.

He took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

The cool wind didn't sober her up; instead, it made her feel even more intoxicated.

Her expression was a little dazed, her movements slightly sluggish.

She looked adorable, like a sleepy sloth.

She looked down at the jacket on her shoulders, tilted her head back to look at Rhys, and reached out to pinch his cheek.

Her voice was slow and drawn out. "Hurry up and get home, or my dad's gonna take a broom to both of our backsides for being out so late."