You Had Me, You Lost Me, You'll Never Find Me novel Chapter 137

She lived on the third floor, so she could clearly see it was a man.

He would occasionally look down, then gaze up, holding an umbrella as he stared in the direction of her apartment.

Sylvia wasn't entirely sure if it was Ashton due to the poor lighting, but the moment she appeared at the window, the man lifted his head and stared fixedly at her. A tiny, glowing ember of a cigarette flickered in his hand.

Sylvia locked the window and yanked the curtains shut, refusing to look at him.

For some inexplicable reason, the image of a soaking wet, abandoned puppy flashed in her mind.

But it had nothing to do with her.

Ashton was just suffering from a bruised ego.

Like a spoiled child, he was only panicking now that he realized his favorite toy no longer belonged to him.

But why should anyone be obligated to cater to his tantrums?

Sylvia didn't sleep well that night. When a sudden crash of thunder woke her in the middle of the night, she got up, peeked through the curtains, and saw that the street below was empty.

A strange, faint sense of relief washed over her chest.

When she woke up the next morning, she went straight to Julian's place, bringing him a thermos of hearty bone broth that Mrs. Mabel had specially prepared.

Julian unscrewed the lid. It had been simmering all night, the broth incredibly rich and tender.

"You went to so much trouble. Make sure you have some too."

Watching him effortlessly spoon the soup with his left hand, Sylvia asked, "Are you left-handed?"

Julian looked up and gave her a warm smile. "I am, actually. I used to get teased for it by my classmates when I was younger, so I forced myself to switch to my right hand. I still use my right hand for most daily tasks. Honestly, the right hand isn't in terrible shape—I just can't perform complex surgeries for a while. Normal day-to-day stuff is fine."

He paused, suddenly realizing something. "Wait, should I have said it's actually really difficult?"

Sylvia looked confused. "Why?"

Julian smirked playfully. "Because then you could feed me."

Sylvia: ...

The fever still raged on Ashton's forehead, the light in his eyes dimming by the second.

He wasn't deaf. Even without hearing her response, Gideon's reaction made it painfully clear what Sylvia's attitude was.

A freezing chill crept into his chest. He tossed the phone aside, deciding to just stop looking.

"How's the investigation going?"

Gideon immediately snapped to attention. "Connor covered his tracks well, but he's definitely tied to this. A lot of the dirt on Ms. Harlow was secretly filmed by him, and his timing was too perfect."

Ashton ground his teeth, a lethal coldness flashing in his eyes. "He's been a worthless piece of trash his whole life. Sounds like he's been living a little too comfortably lately. Didn't he throw his mother into a psychiatric ward? Get her out."

Connor was an illegitimate son. His mother, Grace Gillian, had been a mistress, but she was entirely unhinged. On Elder Brooks's eightieth birthday, she had stormed the Brooks estate and caused a massive scene, forcing the family to formally acknowledge Connor.

Connor had only been ten at the time. When he was twelve, his mother came to visit him and pushed him into a pond, nearly drowning him. Connor retaliated by having her committed to an asylum.

The entire family was a pack of lunatics.

"And find out exactly who he's been rubbing shoulders with lately."