The Wife He Forgot to Marry (Winona and Yule) novel Chapter 606

"Thank you so much, Wynne," Forrest said, his tone as warm and gracious as ever.

Winona arrived to visit Forrest a few minutes later, only to bump into Ryder Powell stepping out of the elevator.

She blinked in surprise. "Mr. Powell? What brings you here?"

Ryder didn't mention he was here specifically for Forrest. "I heard Wynne was at the hospital. I just wanted to make sure she was alright."

Winona smiled warmly. "I think she's just checking in on Forrest." She spent the brief walk down the hall singing Forrest's praises to the older man.

Ryder's lips curved into a slight, knowing smile. It seemed Winona and Forrest got along exceptionally well.

They walked into the room together. When Wynne saw him, her face lit up. She turned to Forrest. "This is my husband, the CEO of Powell Group."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Powell," Forrest greeted respectfully.

"Hello," he replied, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

Just then, Simone walked through the door. She paused, taking in the scene of the four of them laughing and chatting. A strange, fleeting thought crossed her mind—*They look like a family.* The dynamic, the shared warmth, even the way they held themselves in the room... it felt completely natural.

Forrest noticed her hovering in the doorway. "Simone? What are you doing way over there? Come sit."

Snapping out of it, she walked in, greeting Wynne and Ryder before turning to Forrest. "A friend of mine pulled some strings. There's a brilliant orthopedic surgeon flying into Riverton in two days just to look at your arm."

"Stefan also flew someone in," Winona added immediately.

"And I brought a professor down from the capital," Wynne chimed in.

Sylvan's relationship with Zachariah was toxic at best. He despised the boy's mother, but until he could locate his missing biological twins, Zachariah was his only heir. He needed the boy to be competent enough to run the empire, yet he constantly crushed Zachariah's confidence to maintain absolute control.

"Dad, there's a gaming studio I want to acquire. I just sent you the pitch deck—"

"I've told you a hundred times," Sylvan snapped, cutting him off. "The Scully Group does not touch entertainment media. Why are you wasting time on video games?"

There was a heavy silence on the line. "Dad, the projections on this are massive. The ROI will blow your expectations out of the water."

"Enough. Stick to the portfolio you already manage and stop playing venture capitalist with things you don't understand." Sylvan hung up.

He threw his phone on the desk, irritated. But after a few minutes of fuming, he opened his email and clicked on the pitch deck his son had sent. He scoffed out loud. "Amateur hour."