I Walked Away And He Lost His Mind (Zephyra) novel Chapter 88

I had rarely shared such an intimate gesture with Steven. In our past life, the only time he was even slightly affectionate was after we’d slept together, and even then, it was rare. He was a cold, restrained man. For him to take my hand, even as a ruse, was a major sacrifice.

The moment we were out of sight, I pulled my hand away. “Alright, they can’t see us anymore. Thanks for today.”

Steven glanced at me, his handsome face an unreadable mask. “Why didn’t you call me?”

I turned to him, confused. “Call you for what? So they could suck you dry? Are you running a charity now?” The thought made me remember his earlier intervention. “Why did you stop me back there? You’re not actually thinking of investing in their company, are you?”

He gave me a look one might reserve for a particularly dim-witted child. “It’s a tactic. You just alienated all of them and threatened to cut off their money. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

I was speechless.

He strode ahead, his voice flat. “I didn’t realize your relationship with them was that bad. But if you don’t want to give him money while still protecting yourself, you need to string him along. Find his weakness, then move in for the kill. Once you do that, no one will be able to control you again.”

I hurried to catch up as we walked toward his luxury car. It was a sudden revelation. No wonder I could never win against him. The man was a master strategist, always ten steps ahead. All I ever wanted was immediate, satisfying revenge.

“Grandfather sent you to get me for dinner, but you didn’t call first. How did you know I was at my family’s house?” I asked. And now that I thought about it, in my past life, I was alone at the Jones house today, getting berated. I didn’t think his grandfather had called me to dinner then. The timeline was changing.

A light breeze carried the unique sandalwood scent that always clung to him.

Larry glanced in the rearview mirror. “Ma’am, Mr. Lancaster didn’t sleep at all last night, and when he tried to rest during the day, he was plagued by nightmares. He rarely sleeps this soundly. Please, just let him rest for a bit.”

“...Oh. Okay.”

Fine. I owed him one for tonight. I told Larry to drive faster, and as the car picked up speed, I started to feel drowsy myself.

Suddenly, Steven stirred restlessly, his hand clamping down on mine with crushing force. He seemed to be trapped in a nightmare. “Zephyra isn’t dead,” he rasped, his voice thick with sleep and desperation. “She can’t die without my permission… No one is to bury her, no one—”