The Plane Tickets He Hoarded The Wife He Hid novel Chapter 146

146 Chapter 146 Blood And A Name

Blanche’s POV 1

After Carry walked away, I began showing Camila the techniques for sketching maple leaves and grass.

While we worked on our drawings, a voice called from behind us, “Miss Callum?”

I spun around to find Dorian approaching.

Noelle accompanied him, wearing casual attire and sneakers rather than his typical business suit.

Despite being in his thirties, age hadn’t touched him–if anything, he appeared more handsome than ever.

The sky was overcast, with light dancing between shadow and brightness.

Noelle positioned himself on the lawn wearing light–colored clothing, standing directly under massive, billowing clouds. Below those

clouds stood a man whose looks matched his own appeal.

I shifted my gaze away from Noelle and beamed at Dorian. “Hey there, Dorian.”

From what I knew, Dorian’s mother had died during childbirth, leaving him to grow up motherless. Throughout all these years, he’d

always longed for a maternal figure.

When he was with me, Dorian seemed to find some of that maternal affection he’d been craving.

Whether Vincent orchestrated it or not, Dorian genuinely cared for me.

Dorian rushed toward me and wrapped me in an embrace. “Miss Callum, you look absolutely gorgeous today.”

My spirits had been low, but Dorian’s sweet words made my smile grow even brighter. “Thank you, Dorian.”

Camila caught the sound of Dorian’s voice, swiveled toward him, and inquired, “Did you come here to sketch autumn too?”

Dorian released me and bobbed his head. “That’s right.”

Camila tilted her head up at Noelle and offered a courteous greeting. “Hello, Mr. Austin.”

Noelle, perpetually stern–faced and rarely one to show warmth, simply acknowledged her with a nod. “Hello.”

I gave Noelle a polite nod as well.

Camila seized Dorian’s hand. “Come sit and draw with me,”

I noticed Dorian waver, sensing it wasn’t from fear of Camila, but because he needed to relay something to Vincent.

I knew that even with Vincent’s cutting remarks, Dorian recognized his fundamentally good heart.

During the difficult period his father endured, Vincent had been the one to support him and help him persevere.

Camila pulled at Dorian. “Just sit already. Why are you being so weird? I won’t hurt you.”

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Dorian cast a backward glance at Noelle, then surrendered to Camila’s insistence. “Fine, fine, I’ll sit. Quit pulling me. You’re going to tear

me in half.”

Camila rolled her eyes at him. “You’re so overdramatic.”

I observed Noelle still standing and offered a gentle smile. “Mr. Austin, if you’d like, you’re welcome to join us on the grass.”

Noelle nodded before shaking his head. “Thanks, but I need to handle a phone call.”

I could see that Noelle grasped the meaning behind Dorian’s expression.

Even without Dorian speaking up, Noelle would still inform Vincent.

I redirected my focus to Camila’s artwork, paying no attention to Noelle.

I watched as Noelle pulled out his phone and captured a photo to send to Vincent.

The image showed Camila, Dorian, and me seated on the grass with our easels positioned before us, beautiful scenery serving as our

backdrop.

The moment he sent the message, Vincent’s call came through.

I noticed Noelle stepping further away before he picked up. “What’s going on?”

Vincent cut straight to business. “You’re with her?”

Noelle responded evenly, “Yes.”

Vincent said, “Send me where you are.”

Noelle replied, “Will do.”

I saw Noelle end the call and text Vincent the location.

Vincent arrived quickly.

Zain appeared carrying Carry right as Vincent reached us.

I watched Vincent position himself beside Noelle and mutter quietly, “Damn, can’t escape this guy anywhere I go.”

Noelle simply grinned, observing Dorian without speaking.

I hesitated about whether to acknowledge Vincent, but then I spotted Zain approaching with Carry. In the end, I decided against greeting Vincent entirely.

I noticed Zain taking in our group too. He stopped briefly while holding Carry, remained silent, and settled down some distance away.

Once they were seated, I saw Heidi arrange an easel for Carry and pass her a drawing pencil.

I watched Zain position a small table nearby, place his laptop on it, and instead of joining Carry’s drawing session, he dove into work with his eyes fixed on the screen.

On our side, I sensed Vincent noticing my lack of acknowledgment, so he didn’t bother with pleasantries either. He approached Dorian,

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examined his drawing, scowled, and declared, “That’s wrong”

Dorian inflated his cheeks and questioned, “Then how should I draw it?”

Vincent stated, “Who draws flowers in fall? You should be sketching maple leaves and pumpkins.”

Dorian drooped his head, his voice dejected. “But I don’t know how to draw those things.”

I caught his words and quickly moved closer. “Dorian, let me show you.”

This wasn’t about getting close to Vincent–I simply didn’t want Vincent crushing Dorian’s confidence.

As I approached, the wind brought my light fragrance directly to Vincent, and I could see him inhaling deeply, his ears turning red.

I quickly outlined a pumpkin shape.

Camila and Dorian burst into applause and showered me with compliments.

“Aunt Blanche, you’re incredible,” Camila gushed.

“Miss Callum, your artwork is beautiful. When Ms. Suzanne sees this, she’ll definitely compliment you,” Dorian chimed in with praise.

I honestly didn’t consider my sketch particularly impressive, but the children’s enthusiasm made me feel slightly self–conscious.

I touched my ear and smiled. “Is it really that impressive?”

Both kids responded in unison, “Absolutely.”

Blending with the children’s voices, I caught Vincent quietly murmuring, “Yes, it’s excellent.”

However, his voice was so hushed that it disappeared completely beneath the kids‘ enthusiastic cheers.

From where I sat, I could hear all the laughter and chatter from Carry’s direction. I glimpsed her gripping her paintbrush, her hand

positioned on the easel, but she seemed lost about where to begin.

I assumed Ms. Suzanne had instructed her to draw autumn, but she appeared confused about what autumn should look like.

I noticed Carry turn her head to see Zain busy typing on his laptop, while Heidi focused on her phone show.

Both were kind to her, but neither seemed particularly worried about whether she’d complete her assignment.

I could sense Carry fighting back tears as she softly called, “Dad?”

Zain lifted his gaze to her. “Yes?”

Carry said, “I don’t know how to draw autumn.”

I saw that Zain was so absorbed in his work that he hadn’t even registered the enjoyment we were having.

When he heard Carry’s confession about not knowing how to draw autumn, he simply looked in my direction and observed me

instructing Dorian.

Then Zain called out to me, “Hey, Blanche.”

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I glanced over, my expression neutral. “What?”

Zain said, “Carry needs you to teach her how to draw autumn.”

His request caught me completely off guard.

I looked at Carry, who kept her head lowered, didn’t meet my eyes, and offered no objection to Zain’s words.

After a moment’s consideration, I answered, “Alright.”

Vincent was positioned to Dorian’s right, and I was on the left.

When I agreed, I felt Vincent’s stare burning into me, unwavering.

His eyes seemed to shoot warnings at me, as if cautioning me against going. But I completely disregarded his look and rose, walking over

anyway.

Both Camila and Dorian picked up on what was unfolding.

Dorian instinctively called out, “Miss Callum?”

But Camila intervened. “Stay out of it. Aunt Blanche can take care of herself.”

Dorian simply nodded and returned to his drawing.

I approached Carry and settled down cross–legged beside her.

Without looking at my daughter, I focused on the empty drawing board and asked, “What would you like to draw, Carry?”

Carry said, “I want to draw a kite.”

I considered this briefly and suggested, “Ms. Suzanne asked you to draw autumn. If you want to include a kite, you could add a tree

beneath it with leaves ready to fall. That would create an autumn feeling.”

Carry agreed. “Okay.”

I could tell she was distracted as she turned to steal glances at me. I sensed her thinking about my eyes, my lashes, perhaps even

noticing my scent, her attention drifting.

I saw Carry’s lips part slightly, as if she desperately wanted to say something, but the words seemed trapped.

It wasn’t until I announced, “There, that’s finished.”

After completing the drawing, I stood up to leave, but Carry caught sight of blood slowly trickling from my arm.

Carry couldn’t contain herself any longer and burst out, “Mom, your hand is bleeding.”

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