FakeNovelChapter 43
Did he... still care about their marriage?
"Miss Sheila? Are you listening?"
Sheila quickly replied with a warm smile, "Of course I'm listening. Maybe your mom has her reasons. When your
dad gets htonight and finds out your mom returned the ring, he's bound to be upset. You should try to talk
to her, alright?"
"Miss Sheila, you're always so understanding."
Henry suddenly felt that his mother had changed-she was starting to act a little unreasonable.
Sheila chatted with Henry for a while longer.
When Mabel called Henry for dinner, he reluctantly hung up the phone.
He looked down at the ring in his hand, thinking, Miss Sheila was right. Dad meant well, giving Mom a ring with a
special little feature, but Mom refused to accept it. If Dad found out, he'd definitely be angry.
So Henry tucked the ring away, deciding not to let Timothy know.
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At dinner, he even told Mabel to keep it a secret.
Mabel thought Henry had a good point. Mr. Wheeler had gone out of his way to give his wife a ring-probably to
make up and reconcile. But Mrs. Wheeler sent it back. If Mr. Wheeler found out, he'd get upset again, and that
wouldn't help matters between them.
So Mabel agreed to keep quiet.
Jessica didn't leave the hotel all day. She stayed in her room, working on intricate paper cuttings.
The Wheeler family's mansion was huge, and with a household like theirs, parties and gatherings were hard to
avoid. If she could display her paper cuttings at one of those events, maybe it would help fulfill her
grandmother's old wish.
That thought made Jessica pour her heart into her work.
That evening, Timothy didn't go straight home. After leaving the office, he ordered dinner to go and brought it to
the hospital.
He stayed with Sheila until past eleven before finally heading back to the house. The mansion was pitch dark.
The staff usually finished tidying up after dinner, then retired to their quarters in the back, leaving the family
their privacy for the night.
If the owners needed anything, they'd just call.
Ever since Jessica married him, no matter how late he got home, there was always a light left on for him.
Sometimes Jessica would doze off waiting, but at the slightest noise, she'd cout to greet him.
Tonight, Timothy pushed open the door to total darkness—none of the gentle warmth of home.
He felt along the wall for the switch and flicked on the foyer light.
Bending down to get his slippers from the shoe cabinet, he stood up too fast and
banged his forehead against the overhead cupboard.
Timothy's face darkened. "Jessica?" he called out.
No answer.
The house felt icy cold.
Annoyed, Timothy changed into his slippers and pushed open the bedroom door.
The bed was perfectly made. The room felt empty.
His grip tightened on the doorknob, knuckles turning white as the veins stood out on the back of his hand.
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He closed the door, changed back into his shoes, and walked out of the mansion.
Jessica had finished her designs by eight that evening. Sshe'd put up on the windows, son the
cabinets.
She personally brought them over to Latonia.
Latonia was delighted, praising Jessica's pieces for their unique charm and cleverness.
She thought it was almost a shto waste them on windows-they deserved to be framed and hung as art.
Jessica laughed and promised that if Latonia wanted something to hang on the wall, she'd make sspecial
relief cuttings just for that.
Latonia was instantly intrigued and chatted with Jessica for a long time, already thinking up more ideas for wall
art.
Jessica was happy to help. It felt good to see someone still appreciated these old crafts.
It was late by the tshe left, so Latonia asked Herbert to drive her home.
Back at the hotel, Timothy went to Jessica's room. Her luggage was still there, but she was gone. He lit a
cigarette and leaned against the balcony, his eyes wandering indifferently to the hotel entrance below.
And there, his gaze finally settled...
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