Missing Mrs. Lowry: The Billionaire’s Wakeup Call

11:13

Chapter 17

Megan dashed back to the modest apartment she was renting

From a distance, Cora, holding on umbrella, anxiously waited downstairs

Megan slowed her pace. “Cora, how come you are here?”

Once inside, Corn gave her a towel and began drying Megan’s damp hair while saying, “I was worried, so I came to check on you. How could you not call a cab in this downpour?”

Megan repited softly. “It’s not easy to get a cab when it mins.”

Cora urged Megan to take a shower. When she came out, Cora had heated up some soup to warm her up.

As Megan sipped her soup, Cora hesitated before asking. “So, what’s the latest with you and Sullivan?”

Megan paused. Then, continuing with her soup, she murmured, “He refuses to sign the divorce papers! I can’t find a lawyer willing to take the case just yet, but I’ve filed for separation. In two years, whether he likes it or not, I’ll be free.”

Cora chose not to press further. She silently applied ointment to Megan’s finger her eyes tearing up at the sight of the injury.

In those years, Megan was a high–talent student at the music academy; many maestros wanted to take her as a student, including that musical genius, Paxton, who had knocked on her door several times.

Now, here she was… playing her violin in such places.

mind. She reassured Cora, “Once Dad gets better and

Maybe

offered a

been a long while since she had smiled like this. When she smiled, two

the

rang: it was her manager from the performance company. “Megan, there’s an opening for a high–end French restaurant tomorrow. They want something classy. I thought of you night away! Play for four hours and you’ll make 5,000 bucks–it’s like money falling from the sky! I

for four

she was not usually sociable, she still managed to butter up the manager with a few kind

instructed her, “Dress up pretty tomorrow!”

in

help but embrace her

searched for a long time, and then she saw the white silk blouse paired with a black long dress. Megan looked at them and touched them, somewhat in a

had been ages since she’d last

next evening, the at a high–end French restaurant located on a prime road in

bustled with their trays, weaving through the

with her hair swept up, accentuating her neck with a pair

with which she played the violin was

glass, a black Bentley pulled up outside. Sullivan leaned against it, casually smoking. He

expelled and instantly tom apart by the night

violin, His gaze was a mix of male desire

Megan and handed her their business cards, but Megan politely declined them

Sullivan was