Chapter 37

A glare full of venom shot from Brinley's eyes. "You shameless bitch!"

Unbothered, Hannah gestured toward the door."Say whatever you want. Now do us both a favor and leave my room."

A sharp retort from Brinley followed. "As if I'd stick around any longer than I have to. Sharon sent me to fetch you for dinner."

Before heading out, Brinley's eyes darted to Hannah's laptop screen. In that split second, something cold and vicious flickered in her face. She had overheard the recording on Hannah's phone just now.

Having realized Hannah was on her trail and actually gathering proof, Brinley's nails dug into her palms,anger simmering just beneath the surface. There was no way she'd let Hannah uncover the truth and turn the tables on her. Not a chance.

Hannah, oblivious to Brinley's scheming, was too busy to care. With days of skipped meals catching up to her, Sharon's invitation was as much about concern as family tradition. She closed her laptop and made her way downstairs.

The last thing Hannah expected was to see Vincent waiting at the table.

"If I hadn't called, would you have even bothered returning for dinner, Vincent?" A tired sigh escaped Sharon.

Vincent glanced up briefly, just long enough for his and Hannah's eyes to meet before both looked away."Work's been nonstop."

Sharon's patience was wearing thin. "Work demands your presence 24/7, huh? You can't even show your face at home. No wonder I still don't have a great-grandchild."

Vincent pressed his fingers to his temples. "Grandma, making a baby isn't that simple. It couldn't be rushed."

The response didn't soften her expression. "Time isn't on my side. When do you plan to try to have a baby with Hannah? After I'm dead and buried? I don't care what's on your schedule tonight. After dinner, you're going upstairs with Hannah."

Hannah's brow twitched. Sharing a bed with Vincent? Hell no.

Pulling Hannah closer, Sharon's tone gentled. "Sweetheart, I know you've been putting in long hours.Please, get some rest tonight. I just want what's best for you."

A hint of awkwardness colored Hannah's reply. "Alright."

Brinley, refusing to fade into the background, hurried over to Vincent and eagerly launched into a discussion about the subsidiary's affairs.

Every now and then, Vincent offered a suggestion or nodded along, giving her just enough attention.

All the while, Hannah kept her eyes on her plate, not saying a word as the conversation swirled around her.

Once dinner ended, Hannah wasted no time slipping away, drawn back to her laptop to finish up details for Sharon's birthday celebration.

Not long after, Vincent emerged from the shower, hair damp and water still clinging to his neck.He reached for the hairdryer and then eventually collapsed onto the bed without a word.

Sharon's insistence meant he was spending the night at home for a change.

With her work finished, Hannah slipped into the bathroom, showered, and climbed into bed, staking out the very edge of the mattress for herself.

That silence didn't last long. The bed dipped under Vincent's weight as he shifted closer, arms finding their way around her waist.

She stiffened and then wriggled free. "If you want sex, Brinley's room is upstairs."

"Don't move. Just let me hold you," he murmured, pulling her back into his arms. She smelled faintly of her citrusy body wash.

He sounded utterly exhausted. When it became clear she wouldn't break his grip, she stopped resisting.Soon,his steady breathing filled the silence-he had fallen asleep.

Pushing him away seemed pointless. With only two weeks left before the divorce, she figured there was no sense turning it into a war zone. Besides, exhaustion from work and party planning had kept her own sleep fitful at best. Eventually, she let herself relax and surrendered to sleep.

Morning arrived to find herself curled against Vincent's chest, one arm slung across his waist. His pajama shirt hung slightly open, a few buttons mysteriously undone.

Propping himself up, Vincent met her gaze. "Did you rest well?"

Without missing a moment, Hannah slid out of bed, her face unreadable. "You're not exactly winning points as a cuddle buddy. You're far worse than the male escorts I've hired."