Missing Mrs. Lowry: The Billionaire’s Wakeup Call

Chapter 79

Megan stood by the floor–to–ceiling windows, peering out in silence.

She watched as Cora descended the steps, collapsing in tears on the curb. She had never seen Cora like this, not even on the day the Quigley family fortune crumbled, when Cora had managed to keep her composure.

Behind her, Blanca couldn’t help but murmur softly, “Mrs. Lowry, do you have regrets?”

Megan lowered her gaze. After a moment, she offered a faint smile. “Regrets? I don’t do regrets.”

How could she have regrets when there had been no choice?

Megan had stayed home for half a day. When she left in the afternoon, she carried only a small suitcase.

As dusk fell, the sky was a canvas of colors, the sunset paintin

painting a spectacle of beauty.

A luxurious black limousine glided through the wrought–iron gates, circling to a stop on the villa’s driveway.

Sullivan stepped out from the shadows to o

open Megan’s door.

He called her Mrs. Lowry. His handsome face broke into a charming, easy smile. “Lila’s whipped up a crab casserole. Looks delicious. Perfect to pair with a bottle of red wine later!”

clear, Megan knew it was the novelty of the moment for him.

had claimed her body night after night, in this moment, Sullivan was filled with a sense of conquest, having maneuvered her back into his world. Any man would swell with pride, and Megan was certain that crab casserole wasn’t the only thing he was eager

but firm. “Sullivan, there’s no need

for what?”

her against the side

were left alone in the vast

face in a flattering light.

of her head. He leaned in close, his voice

of affection in public and

away, unable to bear it. “You wanted me back, Sullivan. I’m here. What more

scoff.

homecoming was anything but pleasant.

the anticipated warm reunion, and the bottle of

Sullivan retreated to his study to work, leaving the household staff worried for Megan. One whispered, “Men like a

neutral. She uncorked the wine, pouring herself half a glass, and

smile. “Being compliant didn’t make life any easier before.”

dare to

ascended the stairs to the master bedroom,

been her prison, and now she was back. Whether for five years or ten, as long as

preparing for a bath, aware that Sullivan wouldn’t let the night pass easily. She hoped a relaxed body might

limp and relaxed. She blow–dried her hair and tied her bathrobe before stepping out

Sullivan was already in the bedroom. He had showered in the quest room and now lounged in a crisp white robe by the bed, flipping through a magazine under a single reading lamp–a clear signal of his intentions for the