Facade of Love

Chapter 193 Trouble with his legs?

The guy looked older by his build, and it was clear he had trouble with his legs.

I thought back to the guy I had been chatting with in the private room, hidden behind a screen. Was that Inch’s buddy, Charlie Yates? He said he could not come out to greet me because of his legs, right?

Why did any of that matter to me? He did not show his face, but still agreed to meet and hear my thanks. If Inch was here, why didn’t he join us for the meal?

“Madam, what’s up?” Ensio caught my stare and checked in.

I shook my head, “It’s nothing,” I said.

Ensio revved the engine, and we left the restaurant behind.

In the rearview mirror, I watched Inch help the man into the car. I could not catch what they said, but Inch was all nods and respectful before he climbed into the driver’s seat.

Watching them, I frowned. This felt oddly familiar, like watching Idris and Ensio together.

Inch had said they were just friends, but this looked more like boss and worker.

After all, they had helped me. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and pretended to doze off, but inside, I was still buzzing from Idris’s reaction earlier.

brief pause, I finally broke the silence and asked Ensio, “Mr. Candor, what were Mr. Young and Jack hashing out

trying to figure out if the evening’s drama was going to mess with things

the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, and replied with a serious tone, No project talk. Mr. Zanier just asked Mr. Young out to dinner and

sake?” I raised an eyebrow. When big shots in business and

and added, “Word is the head honcho of Lake City’s getting shipped off to Capital City for a new gig. Lately, a bunch of Lake City folks have been hitting up Mr. Young, all under

the Youngs‘ investments were a big deal, not just here but everywhere. Young Corporation’s finances could make or break Lake City’s

effect. Jack’s

explained why Jack was tiptoeing around Idris earlier, not daring to lay a finger on me.

with

2/2

a whirlwind. Idris stepping in

my place felt way too quiet.

the door open, the living room was aglow, yet eerily empty. The only sign of life was a voice drifting from the bedroom–it sounded like someone was on a phone call. I sl*pped off my shoes and tiptoed toward the bedroom to

tiny balcony, phone in hand, her legs folded beneath her. I could not catch who was on the other end, but her voice was a gentle murmur, “I’m okay, just had

wide as saucers, and gasped, “When did you sneak in? You’re like a ghost. I didn’t even hear