The Night I Left, He Turned Grey

"Alright, I understand," Mr. Sinclair said. Sean shot his sister a vicious glare, then grabbed his jacket and left.

Cecilia felt a little scared. "Dad, Mom, he’s not going to help Leila Jennings hurt me, is he?"

"He won’t," Mrs. Sinclair said, patting her daughter’s hand. "Your brother won’t side with an outsider."

"But he just said Leila Jennings isn’t an outsider."

"But you’re his little sister. Don’t worry. He’s just going to be angry for a while. You need to lie low for a bit, then go and sweet-talk him."

"I don’t know how to sweet-talk him. He almost strangled me just now." Cecilia pouted, then her eyes suddenly lit up. "I can’t do it, but I bet Sarah can."

She immediately called Sarah Lynch.

"Sarah, my brother found out I was the one who did it. He got angry and left. He’s not even staying for dinner. Can you please go and calm him down for me?"

"Don’t worry, I didn’t say a thing."

"Didn’t say what?" Mrs. Sinclair asked.

Cecilia shook her head and said with a smile, "Oh, it’s nothing."

Mr. Sinclair took his phone into the study and called Leila Jennings. The line was busy after several attempts. He figured his son must be calling her.

He had no choice but to try a voice call instead.

Leila answered on the second try.

"I couldn’t get through just now. Did Sean go looking for you?"

Facing Mr. Sinclair’s cold, merciless interrogation, Leila responded in kind. "No. I didn’t answer his calls. Since I’m divorcing him, I have no intention of getting entangled with him. You can rest assured."

"Hmph." Mr. Sinclair was slightly mollified. "You said last time you weren’t taking anything. Send me the divorce agreement. I need to confirm it. If you’ve asked for a single thing in that agreement, I won’t process your divorce certificate."

"One moment." Leila found the photo and sent it to him.

Mr. Sinclair put on his reading glasses and zoomed in to examine it closely. She really hadn’t asked for anything.

"Leila, I guess you do have some conscience. After all, we did give you food and a roof over your head for four years."

Leila gave a short laugh. "Is there anything else?"

"After the divorce is finalized, you are not to go around telling everyone you were once married to Sean. More importantly, you are not to mention the reason for the divorce. If anyone asks, you are only to say that you two weren’t compatible." Mr. Sinclair recalled his son’s concerns, which were his own as well.

No matter what, his son’s future and reputation had to come first.

"Or what? You’ll refuse to finalize the divorce?" Leila asked, sitting on the freshly cleaned sofa. "Is threatening me the only thing you people know how to do? Didn’t ’Auntie’ tell you what I said when she got back?"

Mr. Sinclair’s face was grim. "Leila, you’re becoming more and more insolent."

"Hmph. The Sinclair family’s upbringing must be terrible. Otherwise, how could you have raised a cheating son and a daughter who knowingly breaks the law?"

"Leila!"

"I can hear you," Leila said, pulling the phone slightly away from her ear. "Don’t worry, I have no intention of publicizing my own sordid past. I don’t want to acknowledge that four-year-long train wreck either."

She hung up.

’I really want to block every last one of the Sinclairs.’

’But I’ll have to wait a little longer.’

Leila went back to cleaning the house. The villa was huge. Even though everything was covered in dust sheets, it would still take a long time to get it all clean.

When she finished cleaning, her phone rang again.

It was Mrs. Cheney.

Leila’s heart skipped a beat. ’Mrs. Cheney is calling me at this hour... Don’t tell me Sean couldn’t find me and went to the Thorne Residence?’

’Does that mean Mrs. Cheney knows what happened last night?’

She answered the phone in a hurry.

"Hello, Mrs. Cheney."

"Sean just showed up here again. He seemed very agitated and said he needed to see you about something." Mrs. Cheney’s tone was calm. ’Looks like Sean didn’t say anything.’

’That makes sense. The Sinclairs are all about saving face.’

’Sean wouldn’t dare mention last night in front of Mrs. Cheney, especially since she’s known for having a short fuse.’

"I’m at the house you let me use, Mrs. Cheney. I was busy cleaning and didn’t answer his calls."

"I sent him away. I also spoke to the property manager, so they won’t be letting his car through the gate anymore. But he seemed so desperate to find you. Did something happen?"

"I don’t know. He’s been acting crazy lately." This wasn’t the Sean she had known for the past four years.

"Well, never mind him," Mrs. Cheney said, her voice filled with concern. "You’ve been busy all this time, you must not have eaten, have you? I had Butler Duncan order some takeout for you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Cheney," Leila said with a heartfelt smile.

Just as she hung up, the doorbell rang.

’That was fast.’ Leila thought, heading downstairs in her slippers. When she opened the door, she was surprised to find Nathaniel Cole standing there.

He had changed into a different but equally impeccable suit, his tie knotted perfectly.

He stood ramrod straight, one hand tucked in his pocket. He always seemed to look down at people, his deep-set eyes filled with an authority that could command the world.

"President Cole, are you on your way to a major conference?"

Nathaniel Cole just stared at her.

"President Cole, I can’t work overtime tonight."

Nathaniel Cole was speechless.

"No one’s asking you to work overtime." Nathaniel Cole strode inside and glanced around. The place had all the necessary furniture, but it still felt stark and empty.

The man’s brow furrowed. "Who told you to move in here?"

"My mentor," Leila replied, leaving the front door open and standing a short distance from Nathaniel Cole. "Are you here on business, President Cole?"

"I don’t see a shred of work ethic in you." ’Otherwise, she wouldn’t be quitting.’

Leila pressed her lips together, saying nothing.

"Are you mute?" Nathaniel Cole had only ever heard his family use that line on him. He never imagined he’d be the one to say it to someone else.

Leila said, "No."

"How long are you staying?"

"About half a month," Leila answered, offering nothing more.

Nathaniel Cole was seething internally.

Being a sharp man, he quickly put it together. She was only staying for half a month because that’s when her resignation would be final.

This house was close to the Cole Group’s headquarters.

The Thorne Residence was in the suburbs, too far from the Cole Group. She’d have to wake up extremely early to get to work on time from there.

"Aren’t you going to offer me a glass of water?" Nathaniel Cole sank onto the sofa, his long legs impossible to ignore even when bent.

"Of course." Leila realized her manners had slipped. Nathaniel Cole was her benefactor, after all. She immediately went into the kitchen and put a kettle on to boil.

Plain boiled water wasn’t enough. She suddenly remembered the jar of dried honeysuckle the orphanage director had sent with other local goods.

She brought the honeysuckle into the kitchen just as the kettle began to whistle, its water boiling.

Her phone, sitting on the counter, lit up as messages began popping up one after another.

[Leila, are you still angry?]

[Telling you to go back and apologize to Cecilia was my fault.]

Leila was bewildered by Sean’s complete one-eighty.

The messages kept coming.

[Can you please pick up the phone? Or just text me back?]

[I know you’re not asleep.]

[I’m really worried about you.]

[Leila, if you don’t text me back, I’m going to wait at the Thorne Residence...]

The rest of the message was cut off, but the mention of the Thorne Residence made Leila, who was pouring the hot water, a little anxious. She freed one hand to tap on the message.

Before she could open it, the kettle tilted, and scalding water spilled onto the top of her foot.

"Ah!" Leila let out a short, sharp gasp.

"What’s wrong?" Hearing her cry out, Nathaniel Cole immediately put down his phone and stood up, heading for the kitchen.

The screen of his phone was open to the notes app.

[I get dressed up to see her and she thinks I’m making her work overtime. Heartless.]