Quennel looked up from his juice. “Hannah. What a coincidence. We’re on the same flight.”
“Mr. Rosenberg, fancy seeing you here,” Yves said, stepping out from behind Hannah. “And we’re in the same row! Hannah, why don’t we switch? You take the aisle seat so you can chat with Quennel.”
He took her bag and settled into the window seat. Hannah, seeing no way to refuse, sat down.
“When we get to Sova, are you heading to the office or straight home?” Quennel asked.
“Straight home.”
“Good,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. “I have something to discuss with Lionel. We’ll go together when we land. No need to trouble Mr. Lancaster.”
Yves leaned back, a lazy smile on his face, and said nothing.
During the flight, Quennel only made small talk, asking about her time in Ryth. Hannah was dying to ask what he wanted to talk to Lionel about, especially given his grim expression, but with Yves there, she kept quiet.
When they arrived home, Lionel was already there. The sight of Hannah and Quennel walking in together made his jaw tighten.
“Why didn’t you call me from the airport?”
“We were on the same flight,” Quennel said, his voice hard. “Lionel, you’ve gone too far this time.”
He walked into the living room and sat down. Hannah, thinking Quennel was about to bring up the kidnapping, decided to stay.



VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABEL
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: My Deceased Wife Wants a Divorce