The Plane Tickets He Hoarded The Wife He Hid novel Chapter 66

66 Chapter 66 The Back Seat Now

Blanche’s POV

The red wine burned going down, but it didn’t stop the tears. I pressed my hand against my chest, trying to calm the chaos churning

inside me.

My phone buzzed. Quinton’s name flashed on the screen–unexpected at this hour.

Well past evening. Too early for him to be suspicious, but I needed to pull myself together. I took a shaky breath before answering.

“Quinton.”

Even with my best effort, something cracked in my voice.

He didn’t call me out on it. “Pretty late to still be out. Camila’s been asking about you.”

The words hit like a punch. My own daughter barely noticed when I was gone, yet my niece cared enough to ask. “Quinton, Carry’s sick.

I’m staying over tonight, but I’ll be back tomorrow.”

His worry came through the line–those pauses where he almost spoke but held back. Finally: “There’s a package at your door.”

Vincent’s bracelet. Right. “Could you grab it for me?”

“Sure.”

Silence stretched between us.

I was about to hang up with some throwaway comment when his voice stopped me, heavy with concern. “Blanche, tell me straight–has

Zain pushed you into something?”

“No. The word came out too fast. But it was true, wasn’t it? What Zain and I had wasn’t really about force. Carry was my daughter.

Taking care of her was on me.

More silence.

I finally broke it. “I should go.”

After hanging up, I washed the wine glass and set it back exactly where it belonged. I stood there letting the night air cool my flushed cheeks before heading back inside.

I turned around and froze. Zain stood a few feet away in his pajamas, hair still damp and dripping from the shower.

My heart jumped, but I recovered quickly. “Still up?” My voice came out rougher than intended, definitely colder.

Zain looked straight at me. “Yeah.”

I couldn’t read him, didn’t want to try. “I’m going upstairs.” I moved to step around him.

“Wait.

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I stopped but didn’t turn back. “What?”

My mind raced, painting pictures I didn’t want to see. Him and Joanna in the study earlier, unable to keep their hands off each other. By

now she was probably passed out upstairs, thoroughly satisfied.

“How’s Carry feeling?”

“Better. She’s asleep.” From what I’d seen, she didn’t look like she had any cold. But sick or not, I wasn’t taking chances with my daughter.

“Good.”

Our conversation was dying. If I stayed, we’d just stand here in awkward silence.

I started to leave when he spoke again. “It’s Grandpa’s birthday this weekend.”

I stopped. Oswald’s birthday–how had I forgotten?

Oswald was the only Jacob who’d ever shown me real kindness. For years, I’d personally handled every detail of his birthday celebrations.

I did Donovan’s parties too, but those were big, flashy affairs with tons of guests. Oswald’s birthdays were intimate, just family. I

preferred them–he genuinely cared about me, and I knew exactly what everyone liked to eat.

“I know,” I said quietly.

Whatever game Zain was playing, I was done caring. I’d still do something for Oswald’s birthday, but not like before. Not with everything

I had.

“Grandpa wants you to cook.”

Of course he did. After the disaster of Donovan’s birthday this time, Zain probably didn’t want another family embarrassment.

I thought about it. “Fine. I’ll make one dish.” In the past, I’d handled the entire menu. Now, he got one dish.

“Okay.”

That surprised me. No arguing, no demanding I do the whole spread like usual. Not that I was grateful–I just wanted this conversation

over. “You should get some sleep.”

“What about Grandpa’s gift?”

Right. I used to plan Oswald’s gifts weeks in advance. Now, it had completely slipped my mind. “Let’s just do separate gifts this time.”

“But-”

I didn’t want to hear it. I walked straight out of the kitchen and headed upstairs, not looking back.

Zain’s POV

I watched her disappear up the stairs, my chest tight with emotions I couldn’t name.

Every other time, Blanche called me about gifts. She’d research options, present me with choices, always let me make the final call.

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Now, nothing. She’d forgotten completely, then suggested we handle our own gifts.

I stood there feeling lost. Business deals? Easy. Managing my actual life? Blanche had always handled that, and apparently, I’d never

learned how.

Blanche’s POV

Oswald’s birthday arrived, and I was swamped at the hospital. Patient after patient needed admission, and even after my shift ended, I

couldn’t leave.

My phone kept buzzing in my bag, but I didn’t have a free second to check it. By the time I finally looked, it was well into the evening and

every missed call was from Zain.

I knew exactly why he was calling–no way I’d forget what day it was.

When I called back, his irritation hit me immediately. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Admitting patients.”

His voice got sharper. “Who matters more–your patients or Grandpa’s birthday?”

I didn’t hesitate. “My patients.”

Oswald meant everything to me. Years of marriage, and he was the only Jacob who’d shown me genuine love.

But as a doctor? My patients came first. Always.

Zain clearly didn’t want to fight about it. “I’m downstairs waiting”

“Okay.” I grabbed my things and the small gift box I’d managed to put together.

At the hospital entrance, Zain’s Rolls Royce sat waiting. He was driving himself today–no chauffeur.

I hesitated for half a second, then slid into the back seat. Once upon a time, I would’ve taken the passenger seat without thinking. Now? I

just didn’t care anymore.

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