?Chapter 1547:


    The sound of the door closing made Ste flinch. What had she done wrong this time?


    She sat alone at the table, a bitter smile twisting her lips. He was already so exasperated by her existence. There was no way — absolutely no way — he would let her have a pet. Tasha had been wise not to bring it up at dinner the night before.


    William drove to the office in silence. After a morning meeting, he summoned Luca and Steven to discuss contract details. Steven left first. The moment the door clicked shut, William drummed his fingers against the desk and spoke quietly. “What kind of animal makes a good pet?”


    It was the question he had been meaning to ask Luca the night before, and now he could no longer hold it back.


    Both men looked visibly caught off guard. “Mr. Briggs, are you thinking about getting a pet?”


    William’s frown deepened. “Not for me. I am just asking.”


    Understanding flickered across Luca’s face. “It depends on personal preference, really. Cats are more independent — self-sufficient. Dogs are needier, more affectionate and demanding. Mr. Briggs, are you considering getting one for Ms. Russell?”


    William did not answer. He simply waved Luca toward the door.


    Once alone, he pulled out his phone and opened his conversation with Jewell. As Ste’s therapist, Jewell might have better insight into what she would actually enjoy. He typed the same question and sent it. Jewell’s reply came almost instantly. “A pet? For Ste? Long-term istion can be genuinely damaging to mental health — apanion animal could help. As for what kind… why not just ask her what she prefers?”


    Both of them had thrown the question right back at him. William rubbed his temples and set his phone aside.


    Ask Ste directly?


    The idea struck him as almostughable. Since when did he need to concern himself with what his prisoner actually wanted? Would he really go and consult the woman he had personally dragged back here?


    He shoved the entire idea aside and forced himself not to dwell on it.


    ?????? с??а?????????? ????е???? wе???? o? gа??n????e??s.со??


    Yet over the following two days, the thought kept returning like a persistent ghost. Every evening when he came home, there she was — sitting alone in the garden with a book clutched to her chest, looking impossibly fragile and isted. During meals, she barely touched her food, a tangible gloom settling around her a little more with each passing day. Her profound loneliness seemed to seep into him somehow, deepening the inexplicable restlessness that had taken root in his own chest.


    The next morning, the dining room was filled with nothing but the soft, rhythmic tter of silverware against porcin.


    Ste kept her head bowed, taking small, careful sips of her milk while trying to make herself as invisible as possible. When William set his coffee cup down against the saucer, the sharp crystalline sound seemed to echo through the silence. Ste’s entire body went rigid on instinct, her fingers clenching around her silverware until her fingertips drained of color.


    .


    .


    .