The Best Revenge It Wasn't Even Your Child novel Chapter 572

“Alright, I’ll do whatever you want,” Gavin replied without hesitation. “But if you ever need help—if there’s anything you can’t handle, promise me you’ll come to me. We’re more than just colleagues. We’re friends.”

Friends.

That word instantly brought Lorinda to Catherine’s mind.

“Take care of yourself, okay? Remember to change your dressing on time. If you feel sick, go to the hospital and see Harrell,” she reminded him, then hung up.

The house fell quiet again.

A soft clatter by the doorway caught her attention. She turned to find Lance standing there with a tray in his hands. She had no idea how long he’d been there, leaning against the doorframe, his sharply defined features shadowed with an expression of brooding anger.

“I told you, I’m not hungry.”

Lance had overheard everything. He’d listened to Gavin’s loud, cheerful banter shift to something weighted and serious, and then to Catherine’s answer: “Of course I choose you.”

His eyes, cold and predatory, narrowed slightly. Without a word, he straightened, crossed the room, and set the lunch down by the bed. He ignored Catherine’s protests and walked straight out.

“Wait—”

Catherine tried to call after him, but he didn’t give her a chance.

What’s his problem?

The air in the room was filled with the comforting aroma of food; the dishes were still steaming. Now that he’d already brought it up, she decided she might as well force herself to eat something.

Susan’s cooking was classic Cabinda fare—the flavors Catherine hadn’t realized she’d missed until now. Without thinking, she ate most of the meal and was surprised to find herself feeling stuffed.

Lanny was still asleep. Catherine picked up the tray and carried it downstairs.

There, she found the main table still set, the food barely touched. Susan hovered nearby, looking troubled.

“What’s wrong?” Catherine asked.

Susan managed a wavering smile. “Catherine, did you eat? Did it taste alright?”

Catherine headed upstairs.

Susan hesitated, clearly wanting to say more, but only sighed and turned to tidying up the dining room.

She wasn’t expecting to find Lance standing in the doorway to the garden, his gaze inscrutable and dark.

“Lance, you—” Susan started.

But Lance strode past her in long, determined steps. He changed his shoes in the entryway, picked up his car keys, and left the house without a word.

Catherine had just lain down beside Lanny when she heard a car engine roar to life outside.

She went to the window and looked out in time to see the Maybach’s taillights as it sped away down the drive.

A tight, heavy pressure gathered in her chest, making it hard to breathe.

That night, Lance didn’t come home.