The Plane Tickets He Hoarded The Wife He Hid novel Chapter 37

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37 Chapter 37 1 Have Miss Joanna

37 Chapter 371 Have Miss Joanna

Blanche’s POV

His words hit me like a slap.

Zain’s grip loosened–just enough for air to flood back into my lungs.

I gasped desperately, feeling warmth return to my face as he pulled back, creating an ocean of cold space between us.

Under the harsh light, he looked like a stranger.

That magnetic pull I once felt toward him? Gone.

I coughed, shooting him a look that could kill.

“You just destroyed the one person who loved you more than life itself.”

The hatred was familiar–for his neglect, his cruelty, his cheating, his selfishness, his arrogance.

But what hit me harder was regret.

I regretted falling for Zain. Regretted being willing to throw away everything for him.

He turned away, leaving me staring at his rigid back.

“Think I give a damn about your feelings?” Ice dripped from every word.

I laughed bitterly. “I know you don’t.”

Yeah, he never did. Not from day one.

The only person he ever cared about was Joanna.

I grabbed my bag, ready to storm out–then stopped cold. Demetrius. I’d come here for him, and now his fate was sealed.

Jaw tight, I threw the question at Zain’s retreating form. “Name your price. What’ll it take for you to leave Demetrius alone?”

Zain didn’t even turn around. “My decisions are final. I don’t back down.” The finality in his voice killed any hope of negotiation.

I knew it was pointless, but my feet stayed glued to the floor. Minutes dragged by until my legs went numb.

Finally, I stumbled out, defeat crushing my shoulders.

Zain’s POV

I was in elaborate dinner, but food was the last thing on my mind.

One bite confirmed it–this wasn’t Blanche’s cooking. Mrs. Hank’s bland attempts tasted like cardboard.

Demetrius meant nothing to me. What ate at me was Blanche’s defiance–how quickly she’d fought for another man,

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If she wanted to cast me as the villain, I’d give her a show she’d never forget.

Blanche’s POV

It churned in my stomach.

Was I too reckless?

Maybe things could’ve gone differently, but now Demetrius’s in deeper trouble because of me.

Then the bitter truth hit. Even if I hadn’t pushed, Demetrius’s situation wouldn’t have been much better anyway.

My phone buzzed–Carry’s name on the screen.

I answered after a few rings, voice unusually cold. “Yes?”

Carry picked up on the frost immediately. “Mom… are you at Grandma’s?”

Her small voice trembled with unspoken fear–a child sensing love slipping away.

“No.” My reply was clipped.

“Oh.” Disappointment leaked through. “You haven’t left work yet? I thought… maybe we could visit Grandma together?”

But visiting Irene was just an excuse–what she really wanted was to test if I still cared about her.

She’d been testing me for days, ever since I’d refused to attend her kindergarten event, claiming I was unavailable.

I shut down the idea firmly. “No need. Grandma needs rest.”

Ever since Carry’s incident, Irene had taken ill–not physically, but emotionally, unable to shake the hurt her granddaughter had caused.

I knew that all too well.

Carry’s voice turned small, uncertain. “Mom… are you still mad at me?”

My voice stayed cool, flat. “No.”

When disappointment piles up enough, it drains all expectation.

And without expectation, anger has nothing to feed on.

Carry’s voice got tinier, more tentative. “Mom, will you pick me up after school tomorrow?”

Deep down, she loved when Joanna came–her classmates raved about how gorgeous Joanna was, making Carry feel like queen of the world.

But ever since she’d told me to leave that day, uncase had been gnawing at her. She just wanted to fix things between us.

Once we were okay again, she could let Joanna pick her up daily without that guilty twist in her gut.

Otherwise, the awkwardness would keep eating at her.

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37 Chapter 371 Have Miss Joanna

I had no clue what was running through Carry’s head, but tomorrow was slammed. I declined again, gentle but firm. “Carry, I have work

tomorrow. Let Dad pick you up, okay?”

Carry’s reply was a tiny, deflated “Okay.”

I didn’t add anything else. “I’m hanging up now. Go to bed.”

Before Carry could say more, I ended the call.

I got back to the Callum Mansion in the evening.

I parked and walked in, bumping into Roger as he headed out.

“Dad? What’s wrong? Where are you going?” I asked.

Roger explained, “Camila’s been out playing forever. I’m going to bring her home.”

“Dad, let me go. You go back and rest,” I offered.

Roger nodded. “All right. I’ll have Isabela fix dinner so you can eat when you’re back.”

“Okay,” I said.

I stepped outside the mansion, and across the street, a sleek black luxury car sat waiting.

“Camila! Time to come home for dinner!” I called out.

“Aunt Blanche! Coming!” Camila’s voice rang out, bright and happy.

At the sound of my voice, Camila didn’t hesitate.

Within moments, Camila came running from the little square and threw herself into my arms.

“Aunt Blanche! You’re home! Did you have a rough day? Grandma told Isabela to make your favorites–honey–glazed ham and garlic

butter shrimp for dinner!”

Camila chattered away.

I lifted Camila up and kissed her forehead quickly. “Seeing you wipes away all the exhaustion. With such a sweet little niece, I’m the

luckiest aunt alive–how could I feel tired?”

Camila beamed and patted my cheeks. “Aunt Blanche, you look so beautiful today!”

“Thanks, sweetie. You’re pretty damn adorable yourself,” I said, grinning.

“But everyone says I’m chubby, Camila mumbled, poking her own cheek.

“Whoever said that is wrong–you’re not chubby! You’re perfect. And when you grow up? You’ll blossom like a little flower, just wait,” I said, tickling her side lightly.

“Aunt Blanche’s right, I know it!” Camila said, nodding hard, her pigtails bouncing.

“Come on, let’s go in for dinner. I’ll peel the shrimp for you later, deal?”

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“Yes! Shrimp time!” Camila cheered, kicking her legs happily.

As we headed inside, I caught a glimpse of that black car still parked across the street. Through the window, I could see a small figure

slumped in the backseat–Carry, her shoulders shaking slightly. Even from this distance, I could tell she was crying.

For a moment, something twisted in my chest. But then Camila’s bright chatter pulled my attention back, and I let the feeling fade as we

walked through the front door.

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