Missing Mrs. Lowry: The Billionaire’s Wakeup Call

Chapter 133

Sullivan returned to his villa just shy of 11 p.m.

As he stepped into the foyer, the maid approached him, her voice a whisper, “Welcome home, sir! Shall I prepare a late–night snack for you?”

Shrugging off his coat and unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt, Sullivan replied in a subdued tone, “Just a plate of plain pasta, please. Is Madam already in bed?”

The maid, with respectful hands, took his coat and softly confirmed, “She had a light supper, played piano for a bit, and hasn’t come down since.”

“Understood,” Sullivan muttered.

As the maid disappeared, Sullivan settled at the dining table, reached out to open the French doors, and lit up a cigarette, taking slow drags. In the pale wisps of smoke, he remembered how Megan used to wait for him at home, always with a spread of dishes or a batch of fresh–baked cookies, eager for him to taste even a single bite, which would delight her for hours.

The dining table was just as empty now as it had been back then. Only now, it was Sullivan who sat there alone.

Lost in thought, when the maid brought the pasta, Sullivan absentmindedly said, “Sit down, join me.”

After a moment of silence and no response, Sullivan looked up, startled to find that it was just the maid by his side, not Megan.

of pain. It must be the

his meal, he went upstairs to

wake Megan, who was enveloped in

he finally did, Megan’s voice softly

He stiffened slightly.

Megan began to undress. The ties of her silk nightgown loosened, revealing her pale, delicate skin clad in

other ideas. She would prefer a purely physical exchange and even pragmatically suggested, “If you’re going to do this, make it quick. I’m

words struck Sullivan like a slap to the

slightly and asked through gritted teeth,

her tone was indifferent, “What else is

settled

the same bed. They made love once or twice, but Megan was silent throughout, her face buried in the pillow, offering no response. It felt like a solitary act for Sullivan,

with a few words, softly assuring

was thrilled, repeatedly saying how good it was to

was not

she had been through a serious illness, her delicate face now even more strikingly refined. Sometimes, Sullivan thought she might