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.

“Once Dad gets

dear! Maybe one day

a faint

since she had smiled like this. When she smiled, two little tiger

she sat on the bed, carefully wiping her cherished violin.

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 know you need money. Let’s

for four

she still

“Dress up pretty

in acknowledgement.

up, she couldn’t help but embrace her violin, caressing it

pick out the right outfit. She 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 trance, this

had been ages since she’d last worn them,

at a high–end French restaurant located on a prime road

bustled with their trays, weaving

her hair swept up, accentuating her neck with a

the chandeliers, the grace with which she played the violin was

Sullivan leaned against it, casually smoking. He wore a black shirt and casual

tom apart by the night breeze,

mix of male desire and a

men were amazed by Megan and handed her their business cards, but

Sullivan was