I Was His Wife, Then His Widow, Then No One's But My Own novel Chapter 126

Xander Harrison opened the door, stepped out, and walked over to Nora's car, sliding into the backseat. His assistant scrambled to follow, but Xander shot him an icy glare. "Grab a cab."

The assistant froze in his tracks, immediately pulling his hand back. "Understood, Mr. Harrison."

Seeing this, Nora offered, "I can give you both a ride."

The assistant frantically waved his hands, knowing better than to intrude. "No, no, it's fine! I'll just catch a cab. Mr. Harrison doesn't like sharing a car with too many people."

Before Nora could say anything else, the assistant had already called a tow truck for the broken-down SUV, hailed a passing cab, and hurried away.

Nora started the engine and drove toward the airport. Neither of the two people in the car spoke first, and the silence thickened instantly.

She glanced at the man through the rearview mirror. He was leaning back against the seat with his eyes closed, his powerful, aloof presence consuming the entire space in the back.

She exhaled deeply. She had no idea what he was thinking, or if he was still on guard against her. But none of that mattered. She genuinely harbored no ulterior motives.

Just then, a deep, magnetic voice drifted from the backseat, unhurried and calm. "There's a scent of gardenias in this car?"

Nora smiled faintly. "Yes. I love gardenias. The scent always puts me in a good mood."

"Why gardenias?" Xander asked, a faint chuckle in his tone.

Nora paused. Unconsciously, her eyes dimmed, and a heavy weight settled in her chest, as if a wad of cotton had been shoved down her throat.

She used to love gardenias solely because of Finnegan. He once said it was his favorite scent, so she had kept gardenia air fresheners in her car, breathing it in for years.

Meanwhile, The Fletcher Manor was brightly lit. The massive round table was overflowing with luxurious dishes, and almost every eligible member of the family had arrived.

Alastair Fletcher sat at the head of the table. His gaze swept over the empty seat, and he drummed his fingers slowly against the wood, his face darkening.

The chair situated directly beside him, reserved specifically for Nora, was blatantly empty, standing out like a sore thumb among the full house of relatives.

Sitting next to Finnegan, Seraphina casually let her eyes drift over the empty chair, a smirk curling her lips. Finnegan noticed it too, his brows pulling into a tight knot.

Finally, the patriarch spoke, his grim voice sending a chill down everyone's spine.

"Where is Nora? Who was supposed to notify her?"