Chapter 92

Ethan Roscente tapped his slender fingers twice on the document. A dark glint flashed in his eyes as he looked up.

"Flight tickets booked?"

Zachary Evans' nerves tightened again. "Not yet..."

"Do it now." Ethan closed the folder. "Departure in two hours."

Zachary fumbled for his phone, fingers flying across the screen. He stole a glance at his boss's cold profile, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Mr. Roscente, what about Miss Sophia..."

Ethan stood, adjusting his cufflinks. The metal gleamed cold under the light. "Let her wait."

Zachary's heart skipped a beat.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, dusk deepened. Ethan stood before the glass, his tense jawline reflected in the pane.

"Bring all the project reports," he said abruptly.

Zachary hurried to comply but paused when he heard an almost imperceptible sigh behind him.

"Tell her..." Ethan hesitated. "I'll be back tonight."

Zachary brightened, ready to respond, only to be cut off by an icy addendum: "If I make it in time."

As the black sedan sped toward the airport, Zachary caught Ethan checking his watch for the third time in the rearview mirror. The ticking of the second hand echoed sharply in the silent car.

"Faster," Ethan snapped.

The driver accelerated. Zachary gripped his seatbelt. He glimpsed his boss's phone lighting up before going dark—the caller ID clearly displayed "Sophia."

Ethan stared at the blackened screen, his knuckles whitening.

"Mr. Roscente, should we—"

"Focus on driving," Ethan interrupted, but his grip on the phone tightened.

When the boarding announcement echoed through the terminal, Zachary noticed Ethan lingering at security.

"Mr. Roscente?"

Ethan suddenly turned. "Change the flight."

Zachary's eyes widened. "But the Denver project—"

"Let Liu Ming handle it." Ethan strode back toward the exit. "Get the car."

Rain poured in sheets on the return trip. The windshield wipers thrashed wildly, failing to clear Ethan's increasingly stormy expression.

Bayview Residences blazed with light. Rain dripped from Ethan's hair as he stepped out of the car.

The living room was empty when he pushed open the door.

"Miss Sophia waited four hours," the butler murmured. "She just left."

Ethan loosened his tie. Water droplets splattered against the marble floor. His gaze fixed on the cold teacup on the coffee table before he snatched up his keys.

"Mr. Roscente! There's a typhoon—"

Before the warning could finish, the black sedan vanished into the downpour.

At the intersection, a red light glared. Ethan slammed the brakes. Through the rain-streaked windshield, a familiar figure crossed the street under an umbrella.

He threw open the door and charged into the storm.

"Sophia!"

The figure whirled around. Rain streamed down Ethan's brow as he seized her icy wrist.

"We need to talk."