You Had Me, You Lost Me, You'll Never Find Me novel Chapter 94

"That was rough, Luke. Mr. Wyatt was way out of line. You didn't even do anything wrong, yet he snapped at you like that."

Luke usually found Connor incredibly obnoxious, but this time, he didn't leap to Ashton's defense. He just sat there in stony silence.

—

Outside, a relentless drizzle cast a hazy, gray veil over the city.

Standing by the nightclub entrance, Finley Harris rushed forward with an umbrella the moment he saw Ashton. He noticed blood dripping from Ashton's hand, but before he could speak, Ashton kicked him squarely in the back of the knee. Finley collapsed onto the wet pavement with a gasp of pain.

The umbrella flew from his grasp, splashing into a murky puddle.

Sweating from the sharp ache, Finley barely processed what happened before Ashton hauled him up by his collar.

"Sylvia was almost killed, and you didn't say a damn word. Is this how you do your job?"

Despite the blinding pain, Finley felt a chill rush down his spine.

"Boss, back then... you ordered me not to bother you with trivial matters..." he wheezed, struggling to defend himself.

Ashton's expression was downright lethal, stripping away his usual nonchalance. "Since when do you make decisions for me? Do I need you to decide what's trivial and what isn't?"

Finley had no rebuttal. He had completely overstepped. He had been by Ashton's side for years and genuinely thought he understood him. He was dead wrong.

Ashton took a deep breath, fighting to regain a fraction of control. "Forget it."

He shoved Finley away. Finley stumbled, barely managing to stay upright.

Ashton pulled out a cigarette, took two deep drags, and finally spoke. "You're done working for me."

Finley swayed, looking at him in utter disbelief. "Boss... I..."

Ashton raised a hand, cutting him off. "Save the excuses. You know my temper. From now on, you're reporting to the old estate."

Back when Ashton was battling the company's board of directors, navigating a storm of corporate politics, he had delegated all external matters to Finley. In hindsight, he had given the man far too much power and trust.

It wasn't until he finished the cigarette that Ashton noticed the agonizing, stinging pain in his hand.

As he smoked, he repeatedly dialed a number on his phone. No one picked up.

Finley watched him try twice, then stare blankly at the screen. His boss looked profoundly defeated, but Finley didn't dare ask if he was trying to call Sylvia.

Right at that moment.

A man and a woman approached from the distance, sharing a single umbrella. The woman had the man's coat draped over her shoulders, and his hand rested protectively on her waist.

As they drew closer, Finley realized it was Sylvia. The man beside her was Julian Sterling, and their intimacy was undeniable.

He immediately checked Ashton's reaction. Ashton had already seen them. His cigarette burned forgotten between his fingers, the long column of ash threatening to scorch his skin.

Ashton stood frozen, watching Sylvia walk up the steps. With Finley standing between them, Sylvia didn't seem to notice Ashton at all.

As they reached the landing, Sylvia turned her head to talk to Julian. The wind carried a single, crystalline sentence to Ashton's ears:

"What do you think we should name the baby?"