The Night I Left, He Turned Grey

Leila Jennings’s heart skipped a beat.

She was terrified Sean Sinclair would notice something was off and discover she was secretly planning a divorce.

Sean felt she was the one suited to be a wife, while his sweetheart was suited for romantic dalliances. Given that, he would never be willing to let her go.

If she dragged this out any longer, her self-developed chip project would go public. If she then went through with a litigated divorce, their assets would be split fifty-fifty. The patent on her research was intellectual property, not a salary, and half of all subsequent profits would go to Sean.

Sean lavished three million a month on another woman but gave her only three thousand. Why on earth should he get to share the patent for her work?

Leila immediately replied: [No.]

[I went back at noon to pick up the local specialties my mother sent. My mentor’s wife and Mr. Duncan love that stuff, but since none of you do, I didn’t leave any behind.]

When Sean saw the second half of her message, a sudden feeling of guilt washed over him.

He replied: [Mom, Dad, and Cecilia just aren’t used to that kind of food. They don’t mean it personally.]

Leila: [It’s fine.]

[You worked late today. Are you working late tomorrow, too?]

Her familiar concern was back. Sean replied: [I am.]

Leila: [You’ve been working so hard lately. After I get off work tomorrow, I’ll go home, make you dinner, and bring it to Stellaxis.]

A faint smile touched Sean’s lips. [I forgive you for not being home lately. But you have to bring me dinner twice a week.]

Leila replied, her face expressionless: [Okay.]

Then she immediately started searching online for a private chef.

Sean could always tell if she was the one who cooked, because she knew his tastes perfectly, down to the exact gram of salt and sugar.

This precision was the result of her countless experiments, records, and summaries.

As long as the chef followed the steps she provided and controlled the measurements, they could naturally replicate the flavors Sean liked.

While searching for a private chef, Leila pulled out "Sean’s Preference Chart." His food preferences were divided into breakfast and dinner.

She copied the dinner section, sent it to the chef, and instructed them to pack the meal in an insulated container.

After arranging all that, Leila contacted Cecilia Sinclair.

[When are you giving my things back?]

Cecilia didn’t reply until half an hour later.

[Tomorrow at ten p.m. See you at The Cole Crest Hotel.]

Leila frowned. ’Why a hotel?’

And The Cole Crest, of all places.

The most luxurious hotel under The Cole Group.

...

The next evening at seven, the private chef sent Leila a message to let her know the food was ready.

Leila had hired a courier.

The delivery arrived half an hour later.

A short while later, a message from Sean arrived: [Still tastes best when you make it, honey.]

Leila held her phone a little farther away from her face.

She backed out of the chat and clicked on the location Cecilia had sent, pulling it up on her navigation app.

It was the same one she had gone to last time.

So when Leila appeared in the lobby of The Cole Crest Hotel, the front desk staff recognized her immediately, and Manager Ross came over as well.

"Secretary Jennings."

Leila froze for a moment, looking at the smiling Manager Ross before her.

"How did you know I’m President Cole’s secretary?"

"Actually, most people at The Cole Group know," Ross said. "After all, when President Cole personally promotes someone to be his secretary, everyone gets curious about who’s capable enough to earn his favor."

Secretary Caine and Secretary Gwen had to jump through countless hoops to get to President Cole’s side.

When Manager Ross heard that President Cole’s newly promoted secretary had the surname Jennings, she had a hunch it must be the same guest President Cole had personally instructed her to take good care of last time.

Later, she saw Secretary Jennings’s ID badge photo on the company’s internal system and recognized her at a glance.

"Secretary Jennings, you’ve come in person. Does President Cole have any instructions?"

"No, I’m off the clock right now. I’m just here to meet someone. There’s no need for formalities, Manager."

"Of course. Secretary Jennings, if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to contact me. This is my card; it has my number on it." Manager Ross handed her the business card with both hands and then departed.

Leila put the card away and sent Cecilia a message.

[Where are you?]

[The Linden on the ninety-ninth floor. Come up.]

The Linden was The Cole Crest Hotel’s executive lounge. It offered food and beverage service, small meeting rooms for business activities, and occasional wine tastings. It was a social space.

A moment later, another message came from Cecilia:

[Oh, I forgot. You don’t have a reservation here, so you probably can’t get up. I guess I’ll call the front desk for you.]

Every word dripped with superiority.

After calling the front desk, Cecilia sat on a sofa. A cardboard box rested casually by her feet, and on the table sat a simple meal, some snacks, and two glasses of white wine.

A short while later, she saw Leila approaching and gave a slight wave of her hand.

"Have a seat."

Leila saw the cardboard box and bent down to pick it up, but Cecilia lifted her foot and pinned it to the floor, her high heel leaving an indent in the cardboard.

Leila frowned.

"I told you to sit, so sit. What’s the rush? The stuff is right here. It’s not going to run away, is it?"

Leila sat down. "What will it take for you to give me my things?"

"Depends on my mood." Cecilia held out her fingers, admiring her fresh diamond manicure. She smiled and asked, "What do you think of my nails? They’re real diamonds, you know. Sarah treated me. She’s so much more generous than you."

Leila glanced at the sparkling manicure and nodded. "They’re beautiful."

"I guess you have some taste after all." Cecilia lifted her chin smugly, then pointed to the leftover snacks on the table. "Such a shame these are left over. Why don’t you finish them?"

Cecilia had never been one to care about wasting food.

She simply found it fun to order people around.

Leila looked at the box by Cecilia’s feet. "Is everything inside undamaged? Is it all there?"

"I wasn’t interested enough to take it all out and look," Cecilia said, watching her. "So, are you going to eat or not? If you make me happy, I’ll give it to you."

Cecilia grinned like a little demon.

Leila reached for a french fry and put it in her mouth. It was long since cold and had no flavor.

Seeing her finish the fries in the carton, Cecilia pointed to the glass of white wine in front of her. "Drink this, too. And finish it in one gulp. I know you’re a lightweight, but I’ve never seen you drunk. During the holidays, we all drink, but not you. You’re the special one in the family. My brother always lets you get away with it."

"Then again, it’s not really spoiling you, is it? My brother told Mom and Dad that if you got drunk, there’d be no one to do the dishes or clean the house. After all, the maids get time off for the holidays, too."

Leila stared at her, her gaze dark.

Cecilia was completely unafraid. "What? You’re not going to drink? Finish it in one go, and I’ll give you your stuff."

She bent down and lifted the box onto the sofa.

It was full of handmade items and letters, weighing very little.

This was the main reason she had only taken this package and not the others back then.

"And you’ll give it to me if I drink?" Leila asked. "If you don’t, I’ll report you for theft of property."

"Go ahead and report me, if you don’t mind making my brother angry. Even if you do, he’ll just bail me out." Cecilia had plenty of experience with this. She’d been taken to the police station for fighting in middle school, and her brother had gone to get her out.

Leila took a deep breath. "Fine."

She picked up the wine glass.

Cecilia’s eyes were glued to the glass. Seeing Leila drain it in one go, the corners of her mouth immediately curved upward.

’Yes, she drank it.’

’Step one of the plan, complete!’