The Plane Tickets He Hoarded The Wife He Hid novel Chapter 117

117 Chapter 117 A Toast To The Enemy

117 Chapter 117 A Toast To The Enemy

Blanche’s POV 1

Today marks my twenty–seventh birthday.

Irene whips up my favorite breakfast this morning, and after we finish eating, Amber surprises me with a designer scarf she’d picked out

ahead of time.

Demetrius’s unopened gift sits on the table like a silent accusation, while his wilted flowers from yesterday droop pathetically. I rescue

the sunflowers, arranging them carefully in a vase beside my bed.

Camila has the day off and bounces into my room the second she wakes up, clutching some handmade creation. She insists on doing my

hair, and for once, I don’t fight the rare sisterly moment.

I spend the entire day with Camila. By evening, Quinton books us a table at some bustling restaurant. He doesn’t say it’s for my birthday,

but we all know.

The whole family shows up–not a single person missing.

Quinton picks this lively, packed place and slides the menu across to me with unusual ease. “Order whatever catches your eye.”

Taking the menu, bittersweet memories hit me hard. Years have passed since I last celebrated my birthday with family. After marrying

Zain, I’d basically erased myself, pouring everything into caring for Carry while forgetting I even existed.

God, I was such an idiot.

After we order, everyone just relaxes into easy conversation about family stuff–nothing heavy, nothing complicated.

Mid–bite, a voice behind me makes my blood freeze. “Blanche?”

It’s Vincent, but something’s different. No usual flirty tone.

I spin around, confused. “Vincent?”

Vincent glances at me quickly, then nods respectfully toward Roger and Irene. “Hello, Mr. Callum, Mrs. Callum.”

He turns to Quinton and Amber next, flashing them both a genuine smile. The guy’s thorough–even gives Camila a cheerful “Hey there,

Camila.”

I have no clue what game he’s playing, and my confusion deepens.

Vincent finally meets my eyes, that familiar playful glint returning. “You know what they say–chance meetings beat formal invitations, Mind if I crash your family dinner?”

I can’t figure out his angle, but before I can respond, Quinton cuts in with ice in his voice. “Mr. Aarav, you’re used to finer things. This simple food probably isn’t your style.”

Quinton doesn’t spell it out, but his message couldn’t be clearer.

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117 Chapter 117 A Toast To The Enemy

Vincent pretends to miss the hint and drops into the seat beside me with a grin. “Come on, Quinton, don’t be so formal. I’m not picky at

all.”

I watch Vincent settle in and shoot Quinton a panicked look–my brother’s warned me repeatedly to stay away from this man.

But Vincent clings like superglue. No matter what I do, I can’t shake him loose.

Quinton doesn’t explode, but his attitude stays arctic. “We’re pretty rough around the edges, Mr. Aarav. Probably not your usual crowd.”

Even Irene, who doesn’t know the full story, catches his meaning. Vincent just shrugs it off. “Don’t say that. I should feel honored joining you for dinner.”

He pours himself a drink, raises his glass, and clinks it against Quinton’s without waiting for permission. “Cheers, Quinton. This one’s on

me.” Then he downs it in one smooth motion.

Vincent makes the toast, and even though Quinton clearly can’t stand him, he has no choice but to tolerate it for now.

Sitting between Quinton and Vincent, sweat beads on my forehead from the tension.

I know my brother–when he dislikes someone, he shows zero mercy. But Vincent’s smart move with the toast leaves Quinton no excuse

to kick him out.

Vincent might be shameless, but he’s no amateur in business. He knows exactly how to work different situations.

Once he’s comfortable, Vincent makes his rounds with that glass, toasting everyone from Roger down to Camila. Only after honoring

each person does he start eating.

This isn’t Vincent’s usual high–end spot, but he doesn’t complain. If anything, he seems genuinely pleased, constantly serving me and

Camila more food.

Vincent’s on perfect behavior, and Camila falls completely under his spell. She peppers him with questions. “Mr. Aarav, are you Aunt

Blanche’s friend?”

“We’re friends,” Vincent grins. “But we won’t stay just friends forever.”

Camila scrunches her nose, not getting it. “Why can’t you be friends forever?”

Vincent ruffles her hair with surprising gentleness. “You’ll understand when you’re older, sweetheart.”

Quinton’s jaw tightens, ready to snap, but Amber squeezes his hand under the table and shakes her head. Her touch instantly cools his

anger.

I don’t know Vincent well, but tonight at this family dinner, I’m seeing a completely different side of him.

He doesn’t push boundaries or act inappropriate with my family watching.

Instead, he’s unexpectedly considerate–serving my food, refilling my glass, even quietly reminding me to wipe sauce from my lips.

Even with Vincent crashing our dinner, the mood doesn’t turn awkward. He keeps conversation flowing, jumping in whenever things lag. Everyone actually enjoys themselves.

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117 Chapter 117 A Toast To The Enemy

Zain’s POV

I pull up to Blissfield Villa after the business trip, and my phone buzzes with a WhatsApp message before I even step out of the car

It’s from Drew–a photo attached. The image shows Blanche and Vincent sitting together, Vincent serving her food while the Callum

family watches approvingly.

Everyone looks comfortable, relaxed. Like one of those classic “meet the parents dinners.

1 stare at the photo longer than I should, then pocket my phone without responding.

Walking into Blissfield Villa, Carry spots me immediately and jumps up, cheering, “Daddy, you’re finally home!”

I scoop her up and glance around. “Where’s Joanna and Lillian?”

Carry wraps her arms around my neck. “Miss Joanna took Lillian upstairs to freshen up. She told me to play with my toys down here and

said she’d come back to give me a bath.”

I press my forehead gently against hers before setting her on the couch. That photo Drew sent keeps nagging at me, so I suddenly ask.

“Carry, can you call your mom?”

Carry pouts. “Daddy, I don’t want to.”

I think for a moment, then coax, “Daddy needs to ask Mommy something. Can you help me out?”

“Fine,” Carry sighs dramatically. She pulls out her smartwatch and dials Blanche, but the call doesn’t connect. She tries again–still

nothing.

I frown, pull out my phone, and text Blanche: I’m back from my business trip.

Minutes tick by. No response.

I know Blanche’s out having dinner with Vincent and her family. I know I shouldn’t care this much, but something gnaws at me.

I spring up from the couch. Carry stares at me, confused. “Carry, Daddy needs to step out for a bit. Stay here and be good, okay?”

Joanna appears on the stairs just then. Seeing me about to leave again, she calls out, “Zain, you’re heading out again?”

I turn to her. “Drew needs me for something. I’m heading out.”

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