The Best Revenge It Wasn't Even Your Child novel Chapter 259

Lance’s jawline was razor sharp, and the veins on the back of his hand stood out as he leaned against the edge of the table. His fingers were still a little damp.

“Who did you meet with?” he asked.

Harrell sat down across from him, looking perfectly at ease. “Oh, right. That was your secretary. I should’ve had her come in and say hi.”

Lance froze, his breath catching for a split second.

His brows, which had only been slightly furrowed, suddenly drew together in a tight line.

Catherine?

Twenty-two weeks pregnant?

The baby was developing on the smaller side?

No sex during the last trimester?

Lance didn’t know the first thing about pregnancy. The whole conversation had felt strange, except for Catherine’s voice, which he’d know anywhere. Everything else was unfamiliar. So unfamiliar, it almost didn’t seem like Catherine at all. Maybe just someone who sounded like her.

But how could he ever mistake Catherine’s voice?

“I heard she’s being transferred out of town for work,” Harrell continued, pouring tea and setting Lance’s cup back in front of him. “She came by today to get her prenatal records.”

Harrell glanced at Lance. “Have you ever met her husband? I’ve seen her a bunch of times, but he’s never with her. If you didn’t know better, you’d think she didn’t have one.”

The way Harrell said it, so casual, but every word landed in Lance’s chest like a blow.

Lance pressed his lips together, thin and tight. The quiet around them felt like it was closing in. He stood up, grabbed his jacket, and walked out.

His footsteps echoed down the hall, steady and heavy, until they faded away.

Harrell stared at the empty spot across from him, unmoving.

This was as much as he could do to make up for his mistake.

Outside, Catherine slid into a taxi and finally felt like she could breathe again. The whole weight of that meeting seemed to lift the moment she shut the door behind her.

The taxi pulled up outside her building. She paid, got out, and headed upstairs.

As soon as her taxi pulled away, a black Rolls-Royce pulled up to the building’s entrance.

Lance stepped out, eyes dark and unreadable as he looked up at the front door. He headed inside, not hesitating.

Upstairs, Catherine was moving slowly. Just a few days away from work and she already felt lazy. Waking up early and the long ride over had left her drained.

She dropped onto the sofa, needing a moment to catch her breath. The thought of packing up and hauling her suitcase to Lorinda’s made her feel even more tired.

She rested for a while before dragging herself up to start packing. Only a few pieces of clothing went into the small suitcase before she was sweating and exhausted again.

She was about to sit back down to rest before heading out, when the doorbell suddenly rang.

Ding-dong. Ding-dong.

Catherine got up and walked to the door, pausing to look through the peephole first.