The Sleeper's Wrath and His Wife's Strike novel Chapter 116

But the problem was, Naomi’s design was the very same one she’d created in her previous life. Back then, the prize-winning entry had been the design draft Naomi herself submitted.

Cheryl let out a light laugh. “What exactly do you mean by ‘unexpected’?”

“There are just too many variables, I can’t say for sure.” Lindsay raised her teacup and took a small sip, her mind still preoccupied with the real origin of Naomi’s design.

No matter what, she simply couldn’t believe Naomi had that kind of talent.

Cheryl just smiled and kept her thoughts to herself.

The food arrived soon after, but Cheryl didn’t touch her fork. Instead, her gaze drifted toward the entrance of the restaurant.

Curious, Lindsay followed Cheryl’s line of sight—and spotted Yves’ familiar face. Suddenly, it all made sense.

She turned and shot Cheryl a look, a hint of reproach in her eyes.

Cheryl lifted her hands in mock surrender. “What can I do? I can’t say no to him. You two should talk—I’ll leave you to it.”

As she got up and passed Yves, she leaned down and whispered, “Be gentle. Your words should be used to make up, not to start a fight.”

Yves nodded, then maneuvered his wheelchair over to Lindsay.

“Lindsay, can we talk?” he asked, lowering his voice.

Lindsay pressed her lips together, dodging the question. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No.”

“If you don’t mind, join me.”

Yves smiled. “It would be my pleasure.”

Lindsay didn’t respond. She simply continued eating in silence.

“Go ahead.”

“Were you having dinner with Cheryl at that bistro on the south side last night?” Lindsay asked, watching his face closely.

“Yes. And I saw you having dinner with a man.” Yves’ tone was tinged with jealousy. He’d already had someone look into that man—turned out to be Fitch, the VP of Silverlight Productions.

Lindsay had actually hired that company to write a script for her.

“I saw you with Cheryl too, didn’t I? She was holding your hand—the two of you looked pretty cozy.” Lindsay laughed coldly, her words laced with sarcasm.

She hadn’t witnessed it in person, but the photos she had were proof enough.

Yves paused, searching his memory for details from the night before. When had Cheryl held his hand? The only thing he remembered was his hand getting cut by broken glass, and Cheryl wrapping it up for him…

Suddenly, Yves lifted his injured hand and showed it to Lindsay. “She wasn’t holding my hand—she was bandaging my wound.”