The Ex-Wife's Triumph novel Chapter 90

The next morning, the people Jane arranged arrived at The Vista Gardens on time.

Paula had already organized the gifts sent by the brands. Seeing the movers arrive, she directed them to carry the items out one by one. The movers skillfully opened the boxes they brought and packed everything away efficiently.

Watching the busy workers, Paula couldn't suppress the concern in her heart and asked softly, "Is Miss Lynwood doing okay now?"

The worker straightened up, paused, and replied, "We don't know Miss Lynwood. We're just here to move things."

"Oh, right. I shouldn't have asked," Paula waved her hand quickly, then turned to the kitchen to get some water for them. "You've worked hard. Have some water."

At noon, when Kingsley walked into the reserved private room, Joyce was already waiting. Seeing him enter, she got him a cup of tea and pushed it towards him with both hands, her eyes filled with delight.

"Kingsley, I'm really happy you could come."

Kingsley sat opposite her, his gaze sweeping over the tea. His tone was flat. "I happened to have time. Which country are you going to?"

"France!"

Joyce smiled, her voice full of anticipation, hoping to see some reaction on his face.

Kingsley's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, but he smoothed it out instantly. He didn't ask further, only giving a faint "Okay."

Joyce gripped the tablecloth tightly, looking up at him, her voice softer. "Kingsley, will you wait for me?"

Looking at the familiar yet incredibly distant Kingsley before her, she felt bitter and sour—he could have three years of patience for someone else, yet wouldn't give her a single chance to try.

Kingsley looked at her deeply, his tone carrying a final shred of restraint. "My care for you is out of respect for Joyce's mother. You should know this better than anyone. Joyce, don't burn through the last of that goodwill."

With that, he picked up his phone and stood, walking straight toward the door. "Eat by yourself. The bill is paid."

Walking out of the private room, he quickly messaged Shane: [Order me a lunch and send it to the office.]

Receiving the message, Shane stared at the screen, muttering to himself: "Mr. Sherwood just got to the restaurant. Is the food that bad today?"

Inside the private room, after Kingsley left, Joyce could no longer hold back. She slumped onto the table and cried loudly, her nails digging deep into her palms, oblivious to the blood seeping out.