Chapter 196
“Have you found out where my wife went tonight?”
In a massive bedroom dominated by mahogany furniture, Timothy’s face was grim as he spoke into the phone to his assistant. He was soaking his feet, a nightly ritual to relieve fatigue and aid sleep. He’d tried to get Lindsay to do it too, but she always refused, calling him an old man and accusing him of being impotent. He was only trying to help her.
“Sir, we’ve tracked the car to a villa,” the assistant replied.
Timothy’s frown eased slightly. “Which of her villas?”
The assistant hesitated. “It’s… not one of hers, sir. It belongs to someone else.”
Timothy’s brow snapped back together. He stared at the bubbling water in the foot basin. “Whose?” Which of her little friends would dare to let her stay the night?
There was a two-second pause. “The property records show the owner is George Spencer.”
Hearing the name, Timothy’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Who?”
The assistant felt a chill travel through the phone line. “George Spencer, sir,” he answered shakily. “The CEO of S.S. Capital.”
Timothy’s face was as dark as thunder, the veins in his neck standing out. “How does she know George?” he growled. George was famously uninterested in women. He had never been seen in public with a female companion.
“I’m not sure, sir.”
Timothy hung up, his normally stern features contorted with a chilling rage. He had completely lost interest in his foot soak. He kicked the basin over, sending warm water sloshing across the floor, quickly soaking a large patch of the plush carpet.
He stood barefoot on the damp floor and stared out the window, his eyes burning with a fury that mirrored the roiling water. As Mrs. Harris, she had no business spending the night at another man’s house. If it had been anyone else, one phone call from him would have sent them scrambling in terror. In the past, when she had run off to a friend’s house after a fight, he would call, demand her return, and issue a warning. None of them dared to harbor her again.
And as for men? Everyone in Northpine knew Lindsay was Mrs. Harris. No one would dare touch her.
But this was George. The man who was currently at the absolute pinnacle of Northpine society. He hadn’t relied on a family fortune; S.S. Capitabalone was powerful enough to rival all the old-money dynasties. Those families had deep roots, but they also had their weaknesses: bloated organizations, complex internal politics, and outdated business models. The rise of the digital economy had left many of them struggling.
S.S. Capital, on the other hand, had ridden the wave of technology and the internet and quickly pivoted to investment George’s success was something everyone admired and feared. He was the one mancin
Northpine that Timothy was wary of.
And Lindsay, of course, had to go and pick him. If she was going to cheat, she was
going to aim for the top.
Fine. Just fine.
He had been far too lenient with her.
The sharp-featured man’s eyes filled with a brewing storm. His calls were blocked,
so he sent a message.
[You have one hour to get home.]
Marguerite filled Lindsay in on what had happened with Joshua.
Lindsay howled with laughter. “Hahaha, Mr. Sprinkler! I’m dying!”
Marguerite’s mouth twitched. “Go to sleep.”
Lindsay was still laughing when her phone buzzed. She picked it up
her smile instantly froze. The and
patriarchal dinosaur rarely texted her, he always called.
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