Chapter 31
Then Sebastian sat there alone until dawn.
Outside the window, the sky changed from deep blue to gray-white, then to pale gold. Sunlight squeezed in from the edges of the floor-to-ceiling windows, hitting the corners of the desk.
Sebastian didn't confront Arianna.
Not because he was afraid.
Because he wasn't ready to face the answer yet.
But he did something he'd never done before.
He opened his phone and went into his contacts settings.
Found Arianna's name.
Clicked in.
Call alerts: all silenced.
Message notifications: off.
His thumb hovered over the confirm button.
For a long time.
The auto-lock countdown ran from thirty seconds down to five.
In the last second, he pressed it.
The first day Arianna called Sebastian and he didn't pick up, she didn't think much of it.
The second day she called again. Still no answer.
She sent three messages on WhatsApp. Read. No reply.
The third day.
Not a single response. The calls went straight to voicemail.
Arianna sat in the guest room on the second floor of the Ashford Estate, phone gripped in her palm. On the screen was a list of messages she'd sent over three consecutive days, each one ending with a gray "read" tag.
She changed into a light pink knit dress with a cinched waist, touched up her makeup, called a car, and headed straight to Ashford Group headquarters.
The elevator reached the top floor.
The secretary office door was open. The youngest of the three secretaries saw her step out of the elevator, froze for a moment, then immediately stood up and walked into the hallway.
"Ms. Jackson, do you have an appointment?"
Arianna's mouth held its standard curve.
"I'm here to see Seb."
The young secretary's gaze slid toward the executive office.
"Ms. Jackson, I'm sorry, Mr. Ashford is in a meeting right now. He's not available."
Arianna's smile didn't change.
"What kind of meeting? How long will it be?"
"It's an internal management meeting. The time isn't certain."
Arianna tilted her head slightly, her gaze moving past the secretary's shoulder toward the closed office door at the end of the hallway.
The frosted glass on the door was semi-transparent.
The light was off.
The conference room was on the twenty-eighth floor. If Sebastian was in a meeting, the office light wouldn't be on. But if Sebastian was in his office, the light shouldn't be dark either.
Unless he'd turned it off.
Unless he knew she'd come.
Unless he was avoiding her.
Arianna's fingertips twitched against the side of her dress.
The motion was tiny. So small the young secretary didn't notice at all.
Her mouth still curved upward.
"Then I'll wait."
"Ms. Jackson, the meeting might go on for a while, maybe you should come back another day—"
"It's fine. I'm not in a hurry."
Arianna sat down on the sofa outside the secretary office. Both hands folded in her lap, posture upright, gaze level and forward.
The secretary hesitated for two seconds, then returned to her seat.
Forty minutes passed.
The executive office door never opened.
Arianna's phone buzzed.
A message from the estate housekeeper.
[Ms. Jackson, Mr. Richard Ashford woke up and is asking where you went.]
Arianna replied with two words: On my way.
She stood up and smoothed her skirt. Her gaze swept one last time over that tightly closed frosted glass door.
Then she turned and walked into the elevator.
The instant the elevator doors closed, the light behind the frosted glass door turned on.
Sebastian stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window.
He looked outside.
From the forty-third floor, the city's buildings looked like flattened building blocks. In the distance was a forty-eight-story glass curtain wall tower, reflecting a blinding beam of light in the afternoon sun.
Parker Group Tower.
Sebastian pulled his gaze back and walked to his desk to sit down.
He opened his computer.
Not to handle work.
He went into Ashford Group's internal personnel management system and typed a name in the search bar.
Evelyn.
The employee file page popped up. Last time he'd scrolled to the last page. Today he started from the first page.
Attendance records.
Two years and four months.
Days off requested: three.
First time, sick leave, one day. The notes column said "acute gastroenteritis." The date was a winter day a year and a half ago. That evening he'd been at Arianna's eating hot pot. By the time he got home, Evelyn was already asleep in the bedroom. The next morning she went to work as usual. He had no idea she'd taken sick leave.
Second time, sick leave, half a day. The notes column said "fever 101°F." The date was a spring day a year ago. He checked his phone calendar—that day he'd been with Arianna at the dentist.
Third time, personal leave, one day. No reason given. The date was eight months ago.
Eight months ago.
Sebastian froze. What was eight months ago? He checked his phone calendar. A note was marked on that date.
The anniversary of Evelyn's mother's death.
Sebastian moved his hand from the mouse.
His fingers slowly clenched into a fist.
He kept scrolling.
Email records.
The system had retained all emails Evelyn sent through the company email during her employment. He sorted them in reverse chronological order.
Emails sent on weekends were highlighted in blue.
A lot of them.
Almost every weekend.
The latest one was sent at 2:11 a.m. The recipient was the liaison from the Eastside project client, subject line "Revised Brand Placement Proposal V3.0." Two in the morning. She'd sent it from the home office.
What had he been doing that day? Where was he? He couldn't remember.
Sebastian kept scrolling.
An internal email sent to HR. Subject: [Regarding Intern James Smith's Project Contribution Record.]
He clicked it open.
In the email body, Evelyn listed in detail the work an intern named James had done during the preliminary research phase of the Eastside project. Data collection, competitive analysis, user interview summaries—each item noted the intern's contribution percentage.
The last line of the email said:
[Mr. James Smith's actual contributions to the project far exceed the requirements of an intern position. If there are openings for full-time conversion, I recommend prioritizing him.]
Sebastian closed the email.
He scrolled to the internal departmental collaboration records.
One memo caught his attention. The title was "Eastside Project Client Amendment Emergency Revision Record."
The memo documented something he'd never known about.
The day before the Eastside project contract was signed, the client's representative suddenly requested amendments to three core clauses. The changes were substantial, involving rental structure, brand admission standards, and incubation period duration.
It was Friday evening at seven. The client demanded to see the new proposal by nine Monday morning.
Evelyn had spent two days revising it alone in the office.
There was a small note in the memo, added by Lisa.
[Ms. Kendall stayed at her desk from Friday evening at 7 p.m. to Sunday afternoon at 4 p.m., barely leaving except to eat. After the revised proposal was delivered to the client, they approved and signed on the spot.]
Sebastian stared at that line for a long time.
Friday to Sunday. Forty-five hours.
What had he been doing that weekend? He tried hard to remember.
He'd been at the villa watching movies with Arianna.
Arianna said she'd been stressed lately, couldn't sleep, wanted someone to keep her company and talk. He'd stayed there the entire two days.