My Deceased Wife Wants a Divorce (Hannah) novel Chapter 278

As everyone chatted, Samuel kept glancing at the trash can, trying to figure out how to retrieve the wrapper without anyone noticing.

Finally, during the lunch break when most people were out, he slipped on a pair of gloves, fished the wrapper out of the trash, and put it in a small plastic bag. He practically skipped out of the office.

Outside, Peter sat in his car, glancing impatiently at his watch and then out the window.

A few minutes later, Samuel came running up, a huge grin on his face.

“Uncle Peter!” he said, sliding into the car. “Guess whether or not I got what you asked for.”

Peter looked at him, unimpressed. “You got it. And it went smoothly.”

“Wow, you’re amazing, Uncle Peter! You can tell just by looking at me!”

Peter rubbed his forehead, and even the driver looked exasperated. With that goofy grin on Samuel’s face, a blind man could have figured it out.

“Just give it to me,” Peter said, holding out his hand.

“Right.”

Samuel pulled the bag out of his backpack. “You know, to get this DNA sample, I had to spend a few hundred bucks on a scalped cupcake. It wouldn't have been this easy otherwise.”

A notification popped up on his phone: [10,000 DOLLARS RECEIVED.]

Samuel froze, blinking in disbelief at his uncle.

“Oh, uh… Uncle Peter, you didn’t have to do that! I mean, it’s an honor to help you out.”

Peter ignored him and took the bag, inspecting the cupcake wrapper inside with a nod of satisfaction.

That afternoon, Hannah was about to go to lunch with her colleagues when she got a message from Yves. There was a partnership deal that needed to be negotiated with the Rosenberg Group, and they had to go now.

It wasn't that Yves was trying to put her in an awkward position; she was the lead on this project and needed to be there. He had asked if she was comfortable with it and made it clear she didn’t have to go.

But Hannah had agreed. Work was work, and she wouldn’t let her personal life interfere.

When they arrived at the Rosenberg Group headquarters, there was a commotion at the front desk.

“I am Mr. Rosenberg’s personal assistant! I’m here on the orders of Mrs. Rosenberg Sr. to deliver his lunch. If you stop me and he goes hungry, will you take responsibility?”

Cora stood there, holding a lunch pail, berating the receptionists.

After her mother’s call, she had gone straight to the family matriarch, insisting that she had to bring Lionel lunch immediately or he would get a stomachache.