To see him off, Giselle insisted on joining Donovan for lunch at one of his favorite restaurants. It was an upscale place he often frequented—the kind of spot that drew only the wealthy and well-connected.
The dining room was quiet and secluded, so the two of them didn't bother with a private room. Instead, they chose a table by the window on the second floor.
After ordering, while waiting for the dishes to be served, Giselle glanced downstairs and froze. Her chest tightened as two familiar figures walked through the entrance.
It was Anne and Zachary.
Anne had her arm wrapped snugly around Zachary's, and he didn't pull away. One of his hands rested in his pocket, his handsome face unreadable—but together, they looked exactly like a couple.
Giselle's heart pounded as she locked her eyes on them. She didn't look away until the waiter began leading the pair upstairs, straight toward the second floor.
She quickly dropped her gaze, pretending to busy herself, while Donovan remained focused on his phone, firing off replies to senior executives, oblivious to her unease.
The waiter seated Anne and Zachary at a corner table across the room and cheerfully walked them through the menu.
Giselle drew a deep breath, lifted her glass, and sipped some water, trying to calm the storm churning inside her.
The restaurant was large, dimly lit, and filled with decorative partitions that gave plenty of cover.
Anne didn't notice Giselle and Donovan at first. She simply studied her menu.
But once she ordered, she rose from her seat and leaned intimately against Zachary, slipping her arms around his neck as she looked at his phone with him.


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