The Sleeper's Wrath and His Wife's Strike novel Chapter 107

Cheryl immediately zipped her lips with a dramatic gesture. "Not a word will slip from me. Promise."

As a woman herself, she knew women best.

Lindsay was still fuming, and if Cheryl so much as mentioned Yves right now, Lindsay would probably murder them both. Better to wait until Lindsay had gotten some sleep and cooled off—then, and only then, would it be safe to bring it up.

"You’re sleeping in this room tonight, and I need total peace. No interruptions," Lindsay declared.

"Okayyy!"

The moment Lindsay disappeared into the bedroom, Cheryl whipped out her phone to update Yves.

[Yves, Lindsay’s safe at Pine Residences. She’s still furious. I’ll explain everything when she’s calmed down tomorrow.]

Yves replied: [When did she buy a place at Pine Residences? She never mentioned it to me.]

Cheryl: [I found out by accident, but I told her it was you who told me. So don’t let it slip, and remember to delete these messages!]

Yves: [You’re the one making things up, and I’m supposed to cover for you?]

Cheryl: [My brain glitched, okay? You take the fall this time, next time I’ll have your back.]

Yves didn’t reply again.

When Cheryl saw the double blue ticks but no response, she knew Yves had just left her on read.

…

The next morning.

Lindsay hadn’t slept a wink all night. She only managed to doze off around sunrise, and even then, her alarm went off over and over without waking her.

It wasn’t until the delicious smell of food drifted into the room that she finally woke up, sitting bolt upright in bed, her mind still foggy.

She glanced out the window: blazing sunshine. Judging by that golden light, it was definitely well past morning.

She grabbed her phone. 12:30 p.m.

Lindsay stared at the spread—four dishes and a soup, all looking and smelling incredible. Her eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "You cooked all this? It’s not takeout or from the deli?"

Cheryl stifled a proud laugh. "So you’re telling me my cooking could pass for restaurant food?"

"You’ll only know after I taste it." Lindsay sat down, picked up a fork, and tried a piece of chicken with peppers and peanuts.

"Well?" Cheryl leaned in, chin propped on her hands, eyes shining with anticipation.

Lindsay sampled every dish before giving her verdict. "Honestly? It’s really good. Easily on par with a chef’s."

"Right? If you like it, eat up!" Cheryl ladled out a bowl of soup and set it in front of Lindsay.

"This soup simmered for four hours. Perfect for sleepless nights," Cheryl added, almost conspiratorially.

Lindsay laughed and shook her head. "So you just assumed I’d be up all night, huh? Called in sick for me, made soup in advance…"

"Of course! Woman’s intuition. I know you too well." Sensing her chance, Cheryl continued, "Honestly, I think Yves was out of line too. You’re right to be upset. This time, I’m not taking his side."