The shattered pieces of the phone lay silently on the ground, cold and lifeless. Lance couldn't remember the last time he'd been this furious. Whatever had happened today, Addison had managed to strike a nerve, igniting a fire within him that he struggled to control. His anger felt unresolved, boiling just beneath the surface. For a moment, he considered clearing everything off the table in a fit of rage. But as his hand hovered over it, he paused. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to step back and let go of the impulse. Just then, a soft knock came at the door. The knocks were hesitant, spaced out as though the person outside lacked confidence. When there was no response, the knocking grew more insistent, the urgency testing Lance's already frayed patience. Suppressing the urge to unleash his frustration, he clenched his jaw and strode toward the door, his irritation rising with each step. On the way, a trash can blocked his path. Without a second thought, he kicked it aside, sending it crashing into the wall. The loud clatter echoed through the room, reminiscent of the earlier destruction of his phone. When Lance opened the door, Isaac stood there, looking nervous. Isaac had overheard the noise from inside and seemed shaken, his demeanor hesitant. "M-Mr. Johnston," he stammered, holding out a stack of papers with trembling hands. "I've brought the documents for you." The papers, crucial and requiring Lance's signature, had forced Isaac to make the trip all the way from Halton to Kreshill. "I didn't realize you were in a bad mood today," Isaac mumbled, nervously wiping the sweat off his forehead. Regret washed over him. Knocking on the door had been a mistake. It felt like he had walked straight into trouble. Lance's dark, piercing gaze seemed almost predatory, as though it could swallow him whole. "I ... I didn't mean to keep knocking," Isaac stuttered, desperate to justify himself. "I tried calling you, but you didn't answer."Lance stared at Isaac in silence, his expression unreadable. After a long time, he turned away without a word and walked deeper into the room. Isaac hesitated before trailing after him, his anxiety growing with every step. The shattered remains of a phone lay scattered across the floor, catching Isaac's eye. His jaw dropped. What could have enraged Mr. Johnston so badly that he destroyed his phone? Having worked for Lance for years, Isaac's instincts immediately pointed to Addison as the likely culprit. It couldn't have been Virginia—she couldn't upset Lance this way. Only Addison held that power. Isaac was certain of it. He was debating whether to drop the documents and make a quick escape when Lance's voice broke through the silence. "Use your phone to message Addison," Lance ordered coldly. "Huh?" "Now."Seeing the fury in Lance's eyes, Isaac hurriedly pulled his phone from his pocket, his hands trembling. There was no doubt about it—Lance's anger was because of Addison. No one else could provoke him to this extent. "Here's my phone," Isaac said nervously, handing it over. He had no intention of meddling in Lance's love affairs. Without a word, Lance grabbed the phone, his face unreadable. He typed something quickly before handing the phone back to Isaac, his expression as cold as ever. Isaac averted his eyes, not daring to peek at the message. "Mr. Johnston, why not hold onto it? That way, if Ms. Daves replies, you can respond right away," he suggested hesitantly, offering the phone back to Lance. "You can use it," Isaac continued, his voice shaky. "Don't worry about me—I'll go get you a replacement phone now." With that, he turned and bolted from the room. Left alone, Lance stared down at the device, his gaze fixed on the message he'd sent. Minutes passed before the status indicator changed to read.His eyelids twitched, and his face tensed. His hand tightened around the phone as he waited, but no reply came. The silence was maddening. Frustrated words hovered on the tip of his tongue, but he bit them back, his jaw clenching in restraint. He let out a low, bitter laugh, mocking himself. "Fine, Addison. If your hands are so useless, maybe you should donate them! "What's the point of keeping them if you can't even reply to a single message?" His voice rose as he shouted, the sound echoing through the empty room. After a short while, Lance started to mull over his problems. Could it be that he had been spoiling her too much lately? Had his kindness gone too far? Before he could dwell on those thoughts for long, his mind took a sudden turn. Addison owed her life to him. Without his help, she would have collapsed in the freezing dressing room! Yet, instead of showing gratitude, she treated him with such disrespect.The more he thought about it, the more infuriated he became. His gaze drifted to an unanswered text on his phone. The message sat there silently, almost taunting him, daring to wound his pride. Unable to hold back his frustration any longer, Lance hurled the phone with force. At that very moment, Isaac burst into the room, breathing heavily and pushing the door open. The phone hit the ground near him with a loud crash, shattering into pieces. Isaac froze, holding a brand-new phone in his hand, completely stunned. Did he see it wrong? The broken phone lying on the floor was his! He had just replaced it this month, and now it was already smashed to bits! His precious phone had become collateral damage, all because of Addison. Would she even consider reimbursing him? Isaac scratched his head, feeling utterly helpless. ...The next day, around noon, at a restaurant in Kreshill, Addison arrived dressed in a dark green silk blouse, the bow at her collar tied slightly off-center. She had chosen the venue, and she'd also set the time. The waiter approached her several times, asking if she was ready to order, but she waved him off each time. She checked her watch. It had been an hour past their agreed meeting time. Lance had suggested they meet for a meal to discuss their divorce. Initially, Addison had no intention of agreeing, but the mention of divorce made her relent. Without his signature, she couldn't finalize the separation. So, she compromised and arranged the meeting. But now, it was clear Lance had done it on purpose, leaving her to sit alone and wait. However, Addison wasn't reacting the way he probably expected. She sipped her tea and flipped through magazines, maintaining a calm and composed demeanor.Having picked the restaurant herself, Addison had anticipated Lance's petty behavior. After all, she had ignored his calls and taken a long time to reply to his texts. Knowing his temperament, it was no surprise he'd try to make her wait as payback. In truth, she hadn't arrived at the designated time either—she showed up almost 40 minutes late and only then took her seat. Lance had parked his car outside the restaurant. Though he'd arrived early, he lingered inside his car for an hour. When the clock finally struck 12, he looked up at the restaurant's sign, adjusted his bow tie, and made his way in. The interior was softly lit with a warm yellow hue. Just as Lance was about to enter, a voice called out, "Harvey!" The name jolted Lance. It was etched into his memory, impossible to forget. He froze mid-step, turning in disbelief. Harvey? Isn't he dead? How could I have heard his name? Lance scanned the area behind him, but no familiar figure appeared. Just as he convinced himself he must have imagined it, the voice rang out again, clearer this time. "Harvey Johnston! Wait!" This time, it was unmistakable. The name was too vivid, too real. Lance stood rooted to the spot, utterly dumbfounded.