My Deceased Wife Wants a Divorce (Hannah) novel Chapter 41

In the car.

No matter how many times Hannah insisted she was fine, Yves wouldn't let her go.

The light turned red, and Yves eased the car to a stop. Leaning forward against the steering wheel, he turned to look at her and grumbled, “Well, I’m not.”

Hannah froze.

A smile played on his lips. “Just think of it as keeping me company at the hospital. A perfect excuse to slack off.”

“…Alright, then.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me what’s wrong?”

“Mr. Lancaster, what’s wrong?”

“That was painfully insincere,” Yves said, his gaze lingering on her radiant face. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and sat up straight. “I suppose Lionel is the only one you truly worry about.”

Hannah’s brow furrowed instantly. She had no idea why he would suddenly bring that up. “What happens to him is no longer my concern. Besides, someone else is worrying about him now.”

Yves smiled knowingly and pressed the accelerator.

He knew very well that Hannah was a terrible liar. Her eyes couldn't deceive anyone, least of all him.

When they arrived at the hospital, Hannah accompanied him to pick up his test results. They were chatting as they walked, completely oblivious to the two people standing in a nearby corner.

“Lionel, isn’t that Hannah?” Sandra asked, pointing toward them.

A cold glint surged in Lionel’s eyes, impossible to suppress. He stared at them, his gaze dark enough to kill.

“Is Mr. Lancaster with her for a doctor’s appointment? Hannah doesn’t look too well,” Sandra continued.

“Mr. Rosenberg, what a coincidence. We just saw each other yesterday,” Yves called out cheerfully. Noticing Hannah hunched over like a timid quail, he gently nudged her foot under the table.

Taking his meaning, Hannah took a quiet, deep breath and looked up, greeting him graciously. “Mr. Rosenberg.”

Lionel looked down at her. “What are you doing here?”

“What a question, Mr. Rosenberg. What else does one do at a hospital besides see a doctor? Surely you’re not here on a date?” Yves teased. “What’s the matter, is Ms. Woods feeling unwell? How thoughtful of you to personally escort your subordinate here.”

Sandra bit her lip gently and explained, “I skipped breakfast this morning and had a bout of low blood sugar. I told him I was fine, but Mr. Rosenberg insisted on bringing me.”

Hannah lowered her gaze, remaining silent. She knew he was deeply in love with Sandra, but she never imagined it ran this deep—he wouldn’t even let a simple case of low blood sugar go unattended.

She remembered the time she was home with a fever of 104 degrees. She’d called him, begging him to take her to the hospital, but he had just told her to drive herself.