The Night I Left, He Turned Grey

During her time abroad, Sarah Lynch often grew frustrated with the troublesome process of applying for research grants. Whenever data came back wrong, her first instinct was to blame the equipment, which always led to her wanting to ask her family for money.

Her parents were university professors with respectable salaries, but their income could only support a comfortable lifestyle for the family and fund her privileged life abroad. Providing significant research funding was simply beyond their means.

Research funding required at least a million at a time; her family’s nest egg was nowhere near enough for her to squander.

So, Sarah Lynch called her grandfather.

Mr. Jacobs naturally supported her research, but he couldn’t offer much financial assistance without upsetting her uncle and his family.

Mr. Jacobs preferred to provide theoretical and technical support. After all, he had always hoped his granddaughter would one day follow in his footsteps, so his stance on the matter was quite stern.

Sarah Lynch hated being lectured by her elders.

After casually hearing from Spencer Shelby that Sean Sinclair was rapidly climbing the corporate ladder, she set her sights on him.

Sean still loved her. He immediately wired her money for research funding, and from then on, he transferred three million to her every month like clockwork. Only then could she live and work at the overseas research institute without any constraints.

She used the money to purchase a great deal of equipment and materials. But since every expense at the institute had to be recorded in an electronic file, she effectively became one of its minor financiers.

She spent the money as it came and never thought to ask for a detailed expense report. ’Three million a month is thirty-six million a year. At least twenty million of that went to my research. How could my family possibly afford that?’

Even with her grandfather’s help, they couldn’t possibly come up with twenty to thirty million for her annually. If someone with ill intentions were to see this and start asking where the money came from, it would be a huge problem.

Especially back home.

Besides, Sean was already married.

If Leila Jennings found out and sued to reclaim the money as marital property, Sarah’s chances of winning would be slim. Worse, she would be utterly humiliated.

She had, however, thought of a contingency plan: she could claim it was a private investment from Sean.

But she had never asked for such a report, nor had she received one in her email.

Sarah Lynch stood frozen in astonishment. She frantically checked her email but couldn’t find the message she supposedly sent, much less any expense report from the institute.

"Sean!" Sarah Lynch grew frantic and rushed to Sean’s side. "Someone impersonated me and asked the institute for a record of all the... that you’ve given over the years..."

’I’m still at the Sinclair house. I can’t talk about money here.’

Sean caught on instantly.

He grabbed her hand and led her outside.

Seeing them walk out hand in hand, Cecilia’s lips curled into a broad grin. ’One day, Sarah will replace Leila Jennings and become my sister-in-law!’ she thought.

Once they were away from the Sinclair house, Sarah Lynch quickly recounted what had happened. She then asked nervously, "Sean, does Leila know you’ve been funding my research?"

Sean shook his head.

He stared at Sarah. "You suspect it was Leila?"

"Impossible." Sean dismissed the idea immediately.

’Leila doesn’t have the means. It’s impossible she would have found out. If she was going to, she would have done so long ago.’

’Leila isn’t in charge of the family finances. She never knows where my money goes, and she never asks.’

’Come to think of it, Leila really is a considerate and devoted wife.’

Sean’s mind drifted, recalling something Spencer Shelby had once said to him.

"I’m telling you, Sean, look how wonderful your wife is. She not only keeps your home in perfect order but also takes excellent care of your parents and sister. Don’t you feel anything for her at all?"

’Feel anything for her...?’

Sean’s thoughts drifted again.

Hearing Sean trust Leila so implicitly, a wave of jealousy washed over Sarah.

"Sean, you trust Leila that much?"

Snapping back to the present, Sean said, "It wasn’t her. Perhaps you just forgot that you asked for the report yourself."

"How could I possibly forget?" Sarah stared at him, incredulous. "Sean, you don’t believe me."

"I do believe you," Sean explained patiently. "If I didn’t, I would have suspected you over the incident with Leila at The Cole Crest Hotel."

Sarah froze.

"What does Leila’s incident at The Cole Crest Hotel have to do with me?" she shot back. "Why would you suspect me? How could you even think of suspecting me!"

"Sean, you actually suspected me."

A woman’s tears are always the most effective weapon. Seeing Sarah’s eyes turn red, tears brimming but not quite falling, Sean instantly realized he had said the wrong thing.

"Sarah, I really wasn’t suspecting you."

Sarah sniffled, her voice thick with grievance. "You actually suspected me, Sean? It couldn’t have been Cecilia who told you; she can’t keep a secret to save her life. If I had been involved, she would have blurted it out that day. Was it Leila?"

"Did Leila say something to make you suspect me?"

Sean didn’t answer right away.

Sarah raised a hand to wipe away a tear she’d managed to squeeze out, a bitter smile on her face. "I get it. You’re husband and wife. You believe whatever she says. If she tells you to suspect me, you do it. We’ve known each other for so many years, but I guess that means nothing compared to Leila, who you’ve only known for four short years."

"Let’s just call that night a fleeting fling."

"Let’s pretend your love for me and my love for you over all these years were all a lie."

It was a tactical retreat. She turned to walk away.

She refused to believe that a man who had kept himself for her for so long would truly abandon her for a woman who had come out of nowhere.

"Sarah!"

Just as she’d expected.

Sean chased after her and grabbed her hand. The first time, she yanked it away forcefully.

The second time, she shook it off gently.

The third time, she didn’t pull away.

Instead, she stopped and turned to face him, looking up with tear-filled eyes. "Sean, kiss me now. If you kiss me, I’ll believe you."

Sean stared at her delicate, red lips.

But the image that surfaced in his mind was of Leila.

He hesitated, not leaning in to kiss her.

Sarah rose onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. The kiss deepened as her hands wrapped around his neck.

Sensing he wasn’t kissing her back, she decided to play her trump card.

"Sean, I love you."

"I love you so, so much."

’That night, the moment she’d said those words, Sean had eagerly pulled her in by the waist, kissing her and unfastening her clothes. He had been drunk, yes, but she was sure love was a factor, too.’

’And at the cocktail party, all she had to do was whisper it in his ear, and he had kissed her until she could barely breathe, his hands caressing her waist and legs.’

And then—

Sean’s hands gripped her waist.

’Just as I thought.’

The corners of Sarah’s lips curved upward.

’How could any man resist her?’

’Especially Sean. A man who had loved her for years, who had waited for her to come back, who was willing to live more frugally just so he could send her three million every month.’

"Sean, Sean..." She was about to lose herself in the kiss when a powerful force suddenly pulled her from his embrace.

The culprit was the very pair of hands gripping her waist.

Sarah’s gaze faltered.

"Sean?"

Sean averted his gaze slightly. "We’re in public," he said softly. "Let’s not do this here."

’Oh, so that’s why.’

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. She immediately looked up at him, her eyes soft and gentle. "Then can we go back to our home?"

"Sean, you haven’t been in touch lately, and you haven’t come to our place in over a week."

Sarah was referring to the large, luxurious apartment Sean had recently bought for her.

"Sarah, let me take you home," Sean said, walking ahead. Sarah immediately followed, happily looping her arm through his.

Not far away, hidden in a grove of trees, a young woman in a black hoodie was detaching a telephoto lens from her camera and placing it in her backpack. At the same time, she pulled out the memory card and inserted it into a reader.

The photos imported to her phone.

The screen filled with countless photos of Sean and Sarah Lynch holding hands, embracing, and kissing.

Each photo was at least thirty to fifty megabytes, so clear you could see their pores when you zoomed in.