The Ex-Wife's Triumph novel Chapter 102

"Well, look who it is! Mr. Sherwood!" Sean greeted him with a grin, draping an arm heavily over Kingsley's shoulder.

Kingsley glanced at the hand on his shoulder, his tone indifferent. "What are you doing here? Get your hand off."

"How else would I get here? By car, obviously. I didn't run here," Sean didn't move his hand. "Just trying to rub shoulders with the elite. Is that a crime?"

Kingsley brushed his hand away, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Go get a sex change, and I might consider letting you."

"Get lost..." Sean laughed, swearing lightly.

The two walked into the private booth where Thurston was sitting on the sofa, legs crossed. Seeing them enter, he raised an eyebrow. "Took you long enough."

Kingsley sat down, gently swirling the wine glass in front of him. "Why aren't you at home enjoying your freedom?"

Thurston gave him a look full of meaning, his tone lazy. "Ideally, I need to let loose occasionally too."

Inwardly, however, he was criticizing Kingsley—he felt a strange pang of sympathy that the man didn't even know he had a son over a year old. But on second thought, he felt it served Kingsley right.

He handed a glass of wine over. "Here, cheers. Let's celebrate."

Kingsley didn't take it. He placed his glass back on the table and pulled a cigar from his case.

Sean, having downed half his drink, asked, "Ground has been broken on The Eastborough District. Mr. Sherwood, when is the completion date?"

"Don't you read the files?" Kingsley played with his lighter. With a snap, a blue flame sprang to life. He lowered his head to light the cigar, took a drag, and slowly exhaled smoke. "Next winter at the earliest."

Thurston took a sip of his wine and said gravely, "I don't want to interfere, but you're going to hurt people."

The tension between the two made Sean helpless. He quickly tried to smooth things over. "Can we drink in peace? If not, let's go home. Or... why don't you two just fight it out?"

"He's not worth my effort," Thurston muttered. He already had plans—he had to go to Switzerland tomorrow; he couldn't stop worrying about a pregnant Jane, who also had a child with her.

Kingsley didn't respond, silently smoking his cigar.

When the cigar had burned down two-thirds of the way, he snubbed it out in the ashtray, his voice filled with certainty. "Nobody can stop what I want to do."

Thurston looked at him and scoffed softly. "You're hopeless."