It was Jude Sinclair.
Willow's fingers hovered over the lock, a smile quickly reappearing on her face.
The door clicked open, and the cold night wind swept in. Jude stood there holding a manila folder, his suit jacket draped over his arm, looking slightly exhausted.
"You're up late," he noted.
Willow stepped aside to let him in. "You're up late yourself."
Jude walked in and noticed the two sets of bowls and glasses on the table.
One set had been touched; the other was perfectly clean.
His gaze lingered for a split second before moving away.
Willow noticed.
She had always been excellent at catching the tiny thorns hidden in people's eyes.
"Lawrence isn't coming over tonight," she murmured softly. "I'm just used to setting out an extra portion."
Jude tossed the folder onto the coffee table. "I had my team revise the preliminary proposal for the rehab project. Take a look."
Willow didn't immediately reach for the file.
She walked into the kitchen, poured the cold broth down the sink, and started boiling fresh water. As the sound of the running water filled the silence, she kept her back to Jude, her voice dipping low. "Jude, do you think I'm a joke, too?"
Jude looked up.
She didn't turn around. Her shoulders looked incredibly delicate, the white knit cardigan clinging to her frame, making her look as soft and harmless as a dove.
"Why would you say that?"
Willow let out a faint, hollow laugh. "I know what people say about me. They say I'm not Mrs. Langford but I enjoy all her perks. They say Wren is the real wife, and no matter how hard I try, I'll always just be..."


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