Soren pushed open the door and stepped inside.
Contrary to what he’d expected, there was no chaos–no overturned chairs or
broken ss. Everything was perfectly in ce, the surfaces spotless, the floor so clean it gleamed.
A pair of clean slippers waited by the shoe rack.
There were no signs of a struggle–no broken vases, no scattered belongings.
It was obvious: the upant had simply stepped out.
Soren felt a brief flicker of relief, but as his eyes swept across the cramped space, his brow furrowed again.
The apartment was tiny. All the rooms together probably didn’t amount to the size of his own living room back home. Even with only a few pieces of furniture, the ce felt crowded and ustrophobic.
How could she possibly live like this?
He barely disguised his distaste, but then something caught his eye–a calendar on the wall.
A bold red circle marked the fifteenth of next month.
Evangeline always had a habit of jotting down important dates and anniversaries, but Soren couldn’t for the life of him recall anything special about that day.
What was she up to?
Before he could puzzle it out, Gregory rushed in, hesitating at the threshold. “Mr. Fawkes, I’ve got the building’s security footage. We… also found a record of Miss Whitmore leaving this morning.”
Gregory’s nerves were obvious; he half–expected Soren to lose it once he saw the footage. But with Soren in such a state, he couldn’t exactly hold back.
Soren didn’t notice Gregory’s unease. He took the tablet and immediately opened the video.
The timestamp showed early morning, just after sunrise.
A gray sedan pulled up outside the building.
The car looked ordinary enough, but the gleaming gold license te–almost like a
shield–hinted at the owner’s status.
Soren barely nced at it, about to dismiss the whole thing, when something in the footage made him pause.
Ten minutester, Evangeline appeared in the frame.
She wore a deep blue dress, her long hair casually pinned up, looking poised and effortlessly graceful.
She spotted the car at the curb and, without a moment’s hesitation, walked over, smiling as she opened the back door and slid inside.
“Miss Whitmore seems to know the driver,” Gregory offered quietly, watching Soren’s face for any sign of reaction. “It looks like she’s safe.”
There was something he didn’t say aloud.
The man inside the car–though his face wasn’t visible–looked suspiciously like the one they’d seen yesterday.
He kept that observation to himself, but Soren had already put the pieces together.
Soren’s fist clenched around the edge of the tablet, his knuckles turning white. A vein throbbed at his temple.
Perfect.
Just perfect.
Ignoring his calls, pretending to vanish–only to turn up in another man’s car.
Soren let out a bitterugh, the kind that held more anger than amusement.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ointment he’d bought for Evangeline the night before. Without hesitation, he tossed it into the trash.
He should never have bothereding here out of misced concern.
He turned on his heel and marched out of the apartment.
The tension in the air was so thick it nearly choked Gregory. He swallowed hard, understanding Soren’s fury, but still–Evangeline didn’t seem like the kind of woman to throw away a husband like Soren for a secret fling.
There had to be more to this.
Unable to hold back his doubts, Gregory hurried after Soren and shared his suspicions.
<b>2/3 </b>
Soren’s anger ebbed as he listened.
Gregory had a point, but Soren wasn’t convinced this was all a misunderstanding. It felt more like one of Evangeline’s calcted moves.
This was probably all part of her n.
She’d ignored his messages on purpose, knowing he’de looking for her. She’d probably guessed he’d get his hands on the security footage too. So she made sure he’d see her leaving with another man–just to get under his skin.
An borate game, and he’d nearly fallen for it out of sheer frustration.
Noticing Soren’s anger subside, Gregory finally rxed. “Sir, do you want me to dig into this guy–find out who he is?”