?Chapter 76:


    For a moment, William regretted clearing things up earlier. In hindsight, allowing Ste to continue misunderstanding him might have been the smarter choice.


    “Ms. Russell,” he said casually, between bites, “since you’re working at the research institute, maybe you should stay up to date with the outside world. You may not be able to contact anyone, but you can still read the news.”


    That threw Ste off. Then it clicked—he was hinting at something.


    Marc.


    The thought of him instantly soured her mood.


    “There’s no need for you to worry about that, Mr. Briggs!” she snapped, her voice sharp with irritation.


    William, meanwhile, ate with theposure of someone sitting in a fine-dining restaurant. “I wouldn’t bother either, but your husband seems… rather restless. At this rate, the whole world might hear about it.”


    He even chuckled afterward, which only irritated Ste more. First off, why was he still calling Marc her husband? And second, thatugh—was it aimed at Marc or at her? Either way, she wasn’t amused.


    Seeing that William was nearly done eating, Ste stood abruptly and grabbed the tray.


    “Well then, Mr. Briggs, since you’ve eaten, I suggest you get some sleep. Wouldn’t want to risk insomnia!” she said, her tone pointed. She turned and stormed out without another word.


    Back in the dorm, Laura was still awake. Seeing Ste walk in with a scowl, she raised an eyebrow.


    “You okay? Was thete-night snack that bad?”


    Ste flopped down into her chair with a dramatic huff. “Ugh, yeah. Disgusting. Never going for that again.”


    Lying back in bed, Ste reyed William’s crypticment in her mind and picked up her phone. It had been a while since she’d checked social media anyway. Sure enough, her feed was buzzing with updates about the Walsh family.


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    There were endless posts about Marc’s search efforts—and the fallout from her patent withdrawal from Walsh Group.


    Headlines. Spections. Even some blurry, unttering tabloid shots of Marc.


    She stared at one of the photos and nearlyughed out loud. Marc, who had once been obsessed with his image, now looked like aplete mess.


    His hair was disheveled. His cheeks hollow, as if he hadn’t slept in days.


    The abs he used to unt like trophies? Probably just a sad memory now.


    Ste snorted.


    Watching someone she hated fall apart was strangelyforting. That smug satisfaction made her fall asleep faster than she had in weeks.


    Meanwhile, over at the Walsh Vi, the atmosphere was bleak. Marc sat alone in the dim study, a single floormp casting long shadows across the room.


    Hisputer screen was filled with grim news—terminated contracts, a plummeting stock price, endless messages from his assistant asking how to fix it all.


    The ashtray on the desk was overflowing. A fresh cigarette burned slowly between his fingers.


    But the thing haunting Marc the most wasn’t thepany’s mess. It was the divorce agreement sitting on the desk.


    He hadn’t slept properly in days. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was Ste’s cold, distant stare.


    How had he missed all the signs?


    How had he not realized she’d already made up her mind to leave him?


    By the time the sky began to lighten, Marc finally sshed some water on his face, threw on a coat, and drove straight to the research institute.


    He parked out front and, just like before, asked to speak to the management.


    Last night, something Ste had said came back to him—she’d mentioned a closed project. He couldn’t remember the exact details, but one thing was clear—it mattered to her.


    That got him thinking. What if she was part of that project? What if that was why no one could reach her?


    The security guard, already tired of his face, immediately called Paul.


    Paul came out, looking more exhausted than annoyed this time. “What now, Marc? I’ve already told you—Ste resigned.”


    Marc’s visits every other day were bing a nuisance.


    Marc ignored him. “What about the closed project? Is she part of it?”


    Paul sighed deeply, as though his soul had left his body for a moment. This guy was relentless. “If I show you the personnel list, will you leave and not make a scene?”


    Marc nodded earnestly.


    Paul led him to the office and handed him a printed document. “Here. Official stamp and all. Go ahead, check.”


    Marc grabbed it like it held the meaning of life, scanning every name twice. Then a third time. No Ste.


    His shoulders slumped. The faint glimmer in his eyes faded away.


    Paul looked at him, his tone softening. “If you still can’t find her… maybe it’s time to file a missing person report.”


    Marc’s breath caught. Missing? The thought hit him like a punch to the gut.


    No—he refused to believe something had happened to her.


    He couldn’t let anything happen to her.


    Leaving the institute, he immediately contacted a private investigator and poured a fortune into the search.


    He wasn’t going to rest until he found her, whether she was in the country or halfway across the world.


    Haley had been lying low ever since the police incident. Her family had barely kept her from ending up in jail, and now she was stuck at home under constant watch.


    No more scandals. No more trouble.


    But while she was stuck inside, she couldn’t help but scroll through the same social media news—Marc was searching everywhere for Ste.


    The jealousy burned like acid. Ste had left. Why was he still so obsessed with her?


    Haley couldn’t stand it anymore. She booked a beauty treatment, put on a fresh new outfit, and headed straight for the Walsh Vi.


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