Chapter 72

Sean POV

"Victoria." Angela's voice was warm, though I caught the slight tension in her shoulders. "What a lovely surprise."

"Darling." My mother moved to embrace Angela, shooting me a disapproving look over her shoulder. "I hope my son hasn't been making things difficult for you."

Before Angela could respond, the sound of a door opening down the hall drew our attention. Elizabeth appeared, her silver hair perfectly coiffed despite the early hour.

"Victoria!" Elizabeth's face lit up. "Alexander called to say you were both coming, but I hardly dared believe it."

"Mother." I cut in, studying her face carefully. "Why did you suddenly return from Europe?"

"Can't parents visit their son without an interrogation?" Victoria's tone was light, but her eyes were sharp as she glanced between Angela and me.

"I thought we could all have breakfast together. Though I must say, Sean, if you've done something to make Angela kick you out of bed, you should have had the decency to sleep on the floor, not the expensive Italian leather."

Angela stepped forward, her professional mask firmly in place. "It's not what you think, Victoria. Sean was just-"

"Working late," I finished quickly. "I didn't want to disturb anyone."

"How considerate." My mother's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Though I seem to recall you having no such concerns when you were living at home. The number of times you stumbled in at dawn..."

"Victoria," Elizabeth interrupted gently, "shall we have breakfast? Sarah has prepared your favorite croissants."

As we settled around the dining table, I couldn't help but notice how naturally Angela fit into this tableau of Shaw family domesticity.

She moved with easy grace, ensuring Elizabeth's tea was exactly how she liked it, engaging Victoria in conversation about her latest charitable endeavors in Europe.

"I'm sorry I've been away so long," Victoria said to Elizabeth, genuine regret in her voice. "The foundation's new projects have been all-consuming."

"Don't apologize," Elizabeth smiled. "Angela has been taking wonderful care of me. Such a thoughtful girl-always remembering my medications, accompanying me to every doctor's appointment."

I watched as my mother's expression softened, noting how she reached out to squeeze Angela's hand. The gesture sent a wave of guilt washing over me.

All this time, I'd been so focused on maintaining the facade of our arrangement that I'd failed to see the reality: Angela wasn't playing a role.

She was genuinely caring for my family, filling gaps I hadn't even noticed existed. The realization made my throat tight with shame.

How many of her quiet acts of kindness had I dismissed or taken for granted?

The drive to the hospital should have taken thirty minutes. In the tense silence of the Bentley's interior, it felt like hours.

My parents had taken Elizabeth in their car, leaving Angela and me alone.

As soon as we pulled away from the curb, Angela's warm demeanor vanished. She sat rigid in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead, her hands folded tightly in her lap.

"Angela-" I started, but she cut me off.

"Don't." Her voice was ice. "Let's just get through this morning."

Something in her tone made my hands tighten on the steering wheel. The familiar surge of frustration rose in my chest-the same feeling that had driven me to kiss her last night, only to be pushed away. Without thinking, I pressed harder on the accelerator.

The screech of tires came with barely any warning. A delivery truck appeared around the corner, its horn blaring as I swerved sharply to avoid it. Angela's gasp cut through the air like a knife.

I pulled over immediately, my heart hammering. "Are you alright?"

When I turned to look at her, I saw tears sliding down her cheeks. The sight hit me like a physical blow. Angela Wilson Shaw didn't cry-not when her family's company collapsed, not during our countless arguments, not even last night when I'd crossed a line.

"Angela, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-" I reached for her, but she flinched away.

"Don't touch me." Her voice broke slightly. "Just... don't."

She opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, leaving me alone with the weight of my mistakes. Through the windshield, I watched her pace slowly, one hand pressed against her stomach as if she felt ill.

The gesture triggered a memory from two months ago-another morning, another car ride.

She'd been laughing then, her head thrown back against the seat as I told her about William's latest romantic disaster.

When I'd reached over to brush a strand of hair from her face, she hadn't pulled away. Instead, she'd caught my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm that sent electricity shooting through my veins.

What had changed since then? When had we lost that easy intimacy?

Angela returned to the car after a few minutes, her composure restored.

We drove the rest of the way in silence, but I couldn't shake the image of her tears, or the growing certainty that I was somehow losing something precious without understanding exactly what it was.

When we arrived at Presbyterian Hospital, I hurried around to Angela's side before she could open her door.

I offered my hand and she took it, allowing me to help her from the car.

Then, driven by an impulse I couldn't quite name, I slipped my arm around her shoulders as we walked toward the entrance. Her body tensed slightly at the contact, but she didn't pull away.

We found my parents already waiting in the VIP wing. Elizabeth was being prepped for her tests, leaving us to wait in the pristine corridor.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. Christina's name flashed across the screen, and I quickly hit decline, hoping no one had noticed. Minutes later, it buzzed again. Another call from Christina. Again, I ended it without answering.

When her name appeared for the third time, I felt a bead of sweat form at my temple as I terminated the call. Glancing up guiltily, I found Angela standing with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, deliberately looking anywhere but at me. My mother, however, fixed me with that penetrating stare I remembered from childhood interrogations.

"Who keeps calling you?" Victoria's voice was deceptively casual. "And why aren't you answering?"

"I asked you a question, Sean." Victoria's voice took on that dangerous sweetness I remembered from childhood scoldings. The silence that followed felt heavy with unspoken accusations, but before I could respond, Dr. Carter appeared.

His expression was professionally neutral as he approached our group. "Mrs. Shaw is ready for her consultation. Would you all follow me, please?"