?Chapter 29:


    Ste faltered for a moment, caught off guard by his words. She’d left most of her belongings behind; the only sizable thing she’d carried out of the kitchen was the capsule coffee machine.


    That machine had been her first big purchase since they’d be a couple, back when money was tight, and she’d scraped together several months’ pay to afford it. Marc hardly ever set foot in the kitchen, so she never imagined he’d notice its absence.


    Lost in her thoughts, she startled at the sound of Marc knocking again.


    “Ste, open up!”


    If she dyed any longer, he’d start to suspect something—and thest thing she wanted was for him to realize other things had quietly vanished too.


    She hurried to the door and pulled it open, matching his confused expression with a calm, steady gaze.


    “The coffee machine stopped working, so I brought it out for repairs.”


    The machine had been around for years; it wasn’t exactly a stretch for it to finally break down.


    Marc’s shoulders eased, the worry fading from his face as he epted her exnation without another word.


    Rather than letting her go, he caught her arm with a gentle touch.


    “Ste, I really messed up. Please, just give me another chance. Let me make your favorite meale downstairs and have a little with me?” His easy, charming grin was as familiar as it was calcted.


    Whenever she showed the slightest irritation, he would head into the kitchen and whip up something himself, pretending to bridge the gap with a homemade dish.


    She used to find it endearing—this man, who wouldn’t so much as set a te on the table for anyone else, suddenly rolling up his sleeves just for her.


    Now, she recognized it for what it was: another routine performance. He had probably used the same trick on others before her.


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    She kept her tone calm and unbothered.


    “I’m not really hungry. I think I’ll skip it.”


    Marc didn’t lose his smile, still doing everything he could to stay in her good graces.


    He asked, “Ste, what happened to that coat you got me a while back? I checked the closet yesterday, but it wasn’t there.”


    Ste guessed he actually meant the one she’d picked out for William instead. Every season, his closet overflowed with fresh deliveries; half the time, he couldn’t recall what she’d given him.


    His sudden interest struck her as odd, stirring a flicker of annoyance.


    “I ended up getting the wrong size, so I sent it back,” she answered.


    Marc looked genuinely taken aback. “Sent it back? Why not just swap it for another one if the fit was off?”


    If she’d really meant to buy something for him, he doubted she would’ve returned it at all.


    He hadn’t examined the coat that day, but the logo on the shopping bag hadn’t escaped his notice—a high-endbel, unmistakably expensive.


    Ste pressed her lips together, her tone mild. “Lately, your whole look has shifted. I wasn’t sure what you’d actually wear. Anyway, it’s not like you’re short on clothes—you’ve got tons already, don’t you?”


    Marc usually gravitated toward understated, ssic pieces.


    But his recent outfits had taken on a ssh of color and sh, which Ste easily traced back to Haley.


    Haley’s taste was as loud as her personality—confident, eye-catching, never subtle.


    More than once, Marc hade home in clothing Ste didn’t recognize. Knowing Marc’s aversion to shopping, she could only guess Haley had been slipping him these gifts.


    He shook his head gently. “But you picked that coat out for me, Ste. Whatever you choose, I’ll always like.”


    Marc instantly sensed her hidden warning and tried to justify himself, his expression strained with anxiety.


    Ste retreated a pace, her tone brisk. “I’m exhausted. I’m turning in for the night.”


    Without waiting for a response, she swung the door shut, refusing to spare Marc another nce and leaving him alone in the hallway, isted and unwee.


    Back at her desk, Ste dove into the project files, her attention fixed on the task at hand. Momentster, the rumble of an engine drifted in through the window.


    She let out a quiet, knowing smile, having expected nothing less, and carried on reading without pause.


    Unbeknownst to Ste, Marc didn’t drive off immediately. He loitered by the curb for several minutes before sending out a message. “Keep watch on her. I want updates on everything she does.”


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