The Sleeper's Wrath and His Wife's Strike novel Chapter 165

Yves sat in silence.

Ever since the ambush, he hadn’t been the same. He was no longer the Yves Lindsay remembered—no longer that strong, unshakable man she once admired.

He was human, after all. He could bleed. He could break.

The image of Charles being slaughtered right before his eyes haunted him relentlessly. The blood, the cruelty of it—those memories clung to him like a shadow he couldn’t shake. Even in his sleep, he found himself reliving that nightmare, trapped in the chaos of that day.

No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t let it go.

“Yves, let’s go home,” Lindsay said gently, sensing he needed space and time to heal.

They left the restaurant together, climbing into the sleek car parked outside. The engine purred to life, and they began the slow, winding drive back toward Quigley Manor.

Lindsay gazed out the window, lost in thought, when a familiar face suddenly caught her eye on the sidewalk. She startled upright and called out to the driver.

“Stop the car.”

Yves turned to look at her, puzzled. “What’s wrong?”

“I just saw an old friend. Wait for me here, I’ll be back in a minute.”

She popped the door open and hurried out, her heels clicking against the pavement. Yves glanced into the side mirror, hoping for a glimpse of whoever had caught her attention, but his view was blocked.

Lindsay approached the man—Ward Carter. He wasn’t dressed for a meal at MOLA Café; his attire was more workmanlike, practical.

But Ward shook his head and pushed her phone away. “My son’s grown now, doesn’t need me anymore. I just need to make enough to get by for myself.”

The money bounced back. Lindsay sighed, exasperated. “Mr. Carter, don’t be so formal with me. You spoiled me rotten as a child—don’t pretend you didn’t. And don’t try to fib about your son. I remember you swore off marriage, and even when you finally did settle down, your boy couldn’t be more than ten or eleven. Just take it, consider it a gift for your little guy.”

She resent the money, determined not to take no for an answer.

Ward chuckled, realizing where her confusion had come from. “You’ve got it all wrong. I really did swear off marriage, but my son was born from my first love, back when I was young. He’s in his forties now.”

Lindsay stared at him, stunned by the revelation. That couldn’t be right—Mr. Carter was only about sixty-four. Did that mean he’d become a father at twenty?

He seemed to read her disbelief. “I know, it sounds crazy. I never talked about it back then, not even to your parents. I regret not being there for him, but he turned out all right. He’s got a respectable job now, doing well for himself.”