The Night I Left, He Turned Grey

Sarah Lynch hadn’t gone far. There was a high probability of running into her anywhere in the research institute. Professor Cheney had Leila Jennings take off her own jacket and put on his black executive one. It was a little big and a bit dated, but it was their only option.

"And a hat. We have to get you completely covered." Professor Cheney then rummaged through his bag, pulled out a gray flat cap, and plopped it on Leila Jennings’s head.

Leila Jennings asked, curious, "Why the hat?"

"It’s my daughter’s." Professor Cheney studied her. "That’s much better. From now on, you need to have two sets of clothes whenever you come to and from the institute. Better to be safe than sorry."

"Okay." Leila Jennings nodded.

To her elders, she was quiet and well-behaved, which was why she was always being bullied.

Professor Cheney sighed, muttering, "The divorce is for the best. For the best."

Leila Jennings’s lips twitched, but a flicker of turmoil still appeared in her eyes at the mention of it.

After all, she had truly and deeply loved Sean Sinclair for four years.

"Come on, I’ll give you a ride."

As the car reached the gate, both Professor Cheney and Leila Jennings spotted Sarah Lynch in the rearview mirror.

Professor Cheney’s heart lurched again, and he muttered a curse. "This is never-ending. I’m going to have to mention this to Mr. Jacobs. He’s the only one who can control her."

"Where are you headed?" he asked Leila Jennings in the passenger seat.

Leila Jennings was just about to say The Thorne Residence when her phone rang.

It was the orphanage director.

Professor Cheney motioned for her to answer it.

"Hello, Director." A smile immediately bloomed on Leila Jennings’s face, and her voice became light and cheerful, just like any child away from home getting a call from their parents. "I’m doing great. How are all of you?"

"The children and I are doing very well. The kids made some small things for you two, wrote letters, drew pictures, and we sent some local specialties, including your favorite spicy peanut brittle. The delivery confirmation shows it’s already arrived at your and Mr. Sinclair’s home, so be sure to get it."

"Okay, I’ll go get it right now." The address Leila Jennings had on file was the home she shared with Sean Sinclair. ’Now that I’m getting a divorce, I should probably have the director send things to a different address.’ But she didn’t have a place of her own yet. The Thorne Residence wasn’t appropriate, and The Cole Group was even more out of the question.

"Director, could you hold off on sending me anything for a while? I’m going to be moving soon."

"Oh, are you and Mr. Sinclair moving?" The director sounded delighted over the phone.

Leila Jennings didn’t know how to bring up the divorce, so she could only nod and say, "Mhm, we’re moving. I’ll give you the new address when I have it."

"All right. You and Mr. Sinclair are still coming to visit at the beginning of the year, right? The children are already getting excited, counting down the days. They keep saying that it’s autumn now, so winter is almost here, and that means you’ll be back."

A genuine smile touched Leila Jennings’s lips. "I’ll be there, but Sean Sinclair is too busy. His work schedule is packed this year."

"That’s true. Mr. Sinclair is the president of a major corporation now; I’m sure it’s hard for him to get away. No matter, as long as you come back, that’s what counts."

"Mhm," Leila Jennings murmured.

"And remember to eat the specialty snacks! Some of them won’t last long. Make sure you give some to Mr. Sinclair, his parents, and his sister. And to your professor, your colleagues, and your friends, too. We packed a lot."

"Mhm." There was a catch in Leila Jennings’s voice. "I know. You say the same thing every time."

"Are you tired of hearing it?" the director chuckled, knowing she wasn’t truly annoyed.

Leila Jennings shook her head. "No. Never."

The director laughed again, her own voice growing thick with emotion. "All right, I’ll stop. You should go have dinner."

"Okay."

After she hung up, Professor Cheney asked, "You haven’t told the director yet?"

"I don’t know how to bring it up. Sean Sinclair used to go back with me at the start of every year. On top of the donations, he would bring gifts for every single person. Everyone loves him." Whenever Leila Jennings recalled her past with Sean Sinclair, she couldn’t help but wonder if a man like him was born a hypocrite, or if he was simply capable of doling out a sliver of sincerity to everyone he met.

"Professor Cheney, could you please take me to Sean Sinclair’s? I need to pick up the package the director and the children sent me." Her mind was already on the topic of buying a house again.

"Professor Cheney, do you have any recommendations for a house? I need something I can buy and move into immediately."

"Can you wait a little longer?" Professor Cheney said. "As is customary, in addition to the prize money and the formal honor, there will be arrangements made for your job and housing. You should hold onto your money. You have better uses for it, don’t you? For yourself, and for the orphanage."

Leila Jennings knew Professor Cheney was right.

But she had other concerns as well.

"If I keep staying at your wife’s place, I’m worried Sean Sinclair will go there and cause trouble. He already went over in the middle of the night and woke up Mr. Duncan. Mr. Duncan and your wife are both getting older; they already have trouble sleeping." After a moment of thought, Leila Jennings said, "I’d better just rent an apartment."

Professor Cheney nodded. "My wife has a house that’s been sitting empty. You can stay there for now. It’s not too far from the Cole Group."

"By the way, the Cole Group received a bidding invitation. You’re not involved in that project, are you? If you were, the Cole Group would be disqualified."

"No," Leila Jennings shook her head. "Nathaniel Cole wanted me to participate, but I refused."

"He seems to think highly of you," Professor Cheney said, glancing at her. "After your dance at the gala, plenty of people have been guessing at your identity."

Leila Jennings was taken aback. "Isn’t it common for a secretary to be a date for an event?"

"This President Cole is different. He never has a date with him. A secretary is just a secretary."

Leila Jennings frowned. "It doesn’t matter. I’m about to resign anyway."

’Checking the timeline,’ she thought, ’first the divorce papers, then the resignation.’

’Leave the Cole Group, just in time to attend the bidding.’

Everything was proceeding in an orderly fashion, yet her heart still felt like it had a gaping hole in it.

The car pulled up to the entrance of the complex.

After getting out of the car, Leila Jennings said, "Professor Cheney, I won’t invite you in today, but once the dust settles, I’ll make you a delicious meal."

"Really?" Professor Cheney’s eyes lit up. Leila Jennings used to bring him a portion at the institute whenever she cooked for her husband, and it always left him craving more. "I won’t freeload. I can be your prep cook."

Leila Jennings smiled and stood by the curb, watching his car until it disappeared from sight.

She hadn’t been back in days.

The moment she stepped inside, she was met with a chilling cold. It was as if the apartment had been drained of all life.

The stove hadn’t been used in a long time, either. It was only because Sean Sinclair was so busy—and so tightly entangled with Sarah Lynch—that he hadn’t had time to chase her down for answers.

A pile of packages sat by the door, all with the orphanage’s return address.

She grabbed a small knife from the entryway and opened them one by one. They were all full of food.

The director had said there would be handmade crafts, letters, and drawings from the children, but Leila Jennings couldn’t find them anywhere.

She called the director first. "What were the crafts and letters packed in?"

"A square cardboard box. What’s wrong? Did you not find it?"

"Maybe the delivery driver forgot it. I’ll call and check."

Leila Jennings called the delivery driver next, who confirmed that everything had been delivered.

The photos and video the driver had taken as proof of delivery clearly showed a square cardboard box.

’Did it just vanish into thin air?’

’But why would only one of them disappear?’

Standing among the many packages, Leila Jennings reluctantly called Sean Sinclair.

"Were you home today? Did you open any of the packages? One of the boxes the director sent is missing."

"You’re home?" There was an unmistakable trace of joy in Sean Sinclair’s voice.

Leila Jennings only felt a surge of irritation. "Did you open any of the packages?" she repeated.

"I wasn’t there today, but Cecilia stopped by."

’Cecilia Sinclair?’

A sense of foreboding washed over Leila Jennings.