She's Too Busy Winning to Watch Him Cry novel Chapter 290

Caleb's mind was still heavy with the thought of the dead employee whose family couldn't be reached. Hearing Zane, he merely offered a distracted glance and said nothing.

Zane turned and walked down the hall, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

Rowan suddenly inhaled sharply, looking down at his own hand as if just realizing he was injured. "My hand actually hurts."

Lyra glanced over and saw a shallow cut on his palm. "We're in a hospital. Go find a nurse to clean it."

Rowan's expression hardened. "I saved your brother's life, and you can't even be bothered to get me a band-aid?"

Left with no other choice, Lyra walked over to the nearest sink, washed her hands, and asked the nurses' station for a bandage. She walked back and held her hand out. "Give it to me."

Her eyelashes were still clumped together with tears. She had been crying so hysterically that tear tracks were still visible on her cheeks, making her look like a pathetic, exhausted kitten.

Rowan stared down at her, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Lyra caught it instantly. She scowled, her voice dropping. "What's so funny?"

She was in no mood for his twisted games, and even less in the mood to entertain his smirking.

"Nothing," Rowan said, instantly schooling his features and extending his hand.

Beside them, Caleb was pacing, glued to his phone with a deep frown on his face. He was completely oblivious to the tension between them—there was still absolutely no word on the dead employee's family. What was going on?

A few minutes later, Zane returned with several bottles of water, handing them out one by one.

Caleb was still on the phone, but his eyes tracked Zane's movements. He couldn't help but give the man a second, assessing look.

Just then, Delilah and Mr. Lawrence rushed down the corridor. The second Delilah saw Caleb, she grabbed his arm, her voice shaking with residual terror. "Caleb! Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"Mom, I'm fine. It's just a scratch. Rowan pulled me out of the way," Caleb said, nodding toward the emergency doors. "But one of our guys is still in surgery with a crushed foot."

The rest of the drive was silent. When they pulled up to Zane's luxury apartment building, Rowan put the car in park.

Before getting out, Zane paused. "You haven't eaten, have you? Lyra helped cook a massive dinner. Do you want to come up and have some?"

Rowan froze, his hands gripping the steering wheel. "She came all the way here?"

"Has she ever struggled a day in her life?" Zane mused. "The Fairchild princess actually knows how to prep fresh fish and meat."

"Arthur loved her more than life itself, and Caleb worships the ground she walks on," Rowan muttered. "She doesn't know the meaning of struggle."

Inside the brightly lit penthouse, the massive spread was still sitting on the dining table. The main dishes had cooled, but the rice was still warm. Rowan sat down, picked up a fork, and took a bite.

Even though it was the very first time he had ever tasted this food, an incredibly strange, unexplainable illusion washed over him.

It felt as if, a lifetime ago, he had sat at a similar table and tasted this exact same flavor.