Infidelity: His Regret, My Revenge – A Twisted Love Story You Can't Ignore

Chapter 189
Sherry thought Olivia was acting strangely, but she didn’t probe further.
“Then let’s leave early tomorrow morning. We’re not even sure if we can find that girl.”
Then, Sherry’s eyes suddenly gleamed with mischief.“What if we make Rita lead us straight to the body? Wrap this up in one
go.”
I snorted.“That ‘what if belongs in a crime. drama, Miss Lawyer.”
She hooked her arm around my neck and told me her plan.“What do you think? It’s gonna
work, isn’t it?”
I pondered for a moment.“If you put it that way, I think it’s worth a try.”
“Then let’s do it!”
Sherry finished her orange juice.“I’ll go find Madame Huang now! Our original plan holds, upgraded version activated–success or
fail, we swing! Come on!”
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She put on her suit and rushed out, looking like she was about to crack the old woman’s
skull.
Friday passed peacefully. I even had the leisure to order a small cake and have afternoon tea. My boss didn’t come to the
company in the morning and only appeared with Zach at 1 PM. He stayed in his office and didn’t call for me. It was arguably the
most relaxing day of the week for me.

Evan was going on a date tomorrow, so he probably couldn’t be too overworked today.
After work, while I was driving past a pharmacy, I remembered that hadn’t
returned the borrowed medicine. Therefore,
I went in and bought some.
Dinner done, I texted Gary before ascending to the penthouse.
“These are for you. Thank you so much.”
“For me?”
Gary accepted the paper bag, confusion knitting his brows as he peered
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inside. “Digestive tablets? Antacids?” Why is Olivia giving me these?
I explained to him, “I took a few boxes of the medicine Cody bought for you. I thought you might still need them, so here I am.
Replenish your stock.”
“Cody? Well...” Gary was even more confused, but then, his weathered face brightened with manufactured recollection as he
patted his forehead.“Oh, right, right, I remember. I’d asked him to fetch these. Old age turns my brain to sieve lately. Father time
has a cruel sense of humor, right?”
“Please take care of your health.”
“I know, but you can’t fight time’s little pranks, right?”
I bit back commentary on the “little pranks” requiring enemas and cardiac tonics. Managing Mr. Jones clearly qualified as
hazardous labor.

As we were chatting in the living room, Evan came out from inside. He stood framed in the doorway wearing loose beige
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loungewear, a pair of non–prescription
glasses perched on his aristocratic nose. The
hard–edged CEO persona had dissolved into something far more dangerous–a scholar–prince casually thumbing through a
leather–bound volume, all frost–kissed elegance and untouchable grace.
I quickly greeted him, “Mr. Jones.”
He glanced up as if noticing me for the first time, gaze flickering between Gary’s medicine bag and my face. Then, he gave me
a noncommittal hum.
When he settled onto the sofa with his book, lamplight gilded the sharp line of his jaw.
I muttered to myself: Why is he choosing to read in the living room. Better lighting for scrutinizing subordinates?
“I’ve
got soup simmering downstairs.” I said to Gary,“Please take care.”
I turned around. Halfway through my turn, I
heard a soft voice beside my ear, “I heard you had gastric distress.”
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The voice was casual, like a usual inquiry.
I turned back. “Well, just minor indigestion.”
Evan shifted his gaze from the book, looking up at me.“Are you feeling better?”
“Yep. Thank you for your concern, Mr. Jones.”
“Rest well this weekend then.”
“Okay, I will. I wish you a pleasant weekend as well.”
I said goodbye again and left quickly.
Evan stared at the disappearing figure, his brow furrowed.