The Night I Left, He Turned Grey

Chapter 41: Chapter 41: Are You Trying to Climb Into His Bed?

Ms. Neville turned, and the sight of her single son was enough to give her a headache. She didn’t look pleased at all.

"What are you yelling for? Even if you aren’t embarrassed, I am for you." She then turned to Leila Jennings, her face breaking into a warm smile. "I’ll leave you young folks to talk. Remember to come visit with Cherry when you have time. I’ll make sure we have plenty of good food and fun things for you."

"You can just call me Auntie. ’Ms. Neville’ sounds so formal."

Leila Jennings was touched and a little overwhelmed to be so warmly accepted by her friend’s mother. "Of course, Auntie."

"Good girl." Ms. Neville gently patted Leila’s hand, then turned to her daughter. "Cherry, let’s go find your father."

Cherry Cole asked, "Huh?"

"Ah!" Realization dawned, and she nodded vigorously. "Okay, Mom!"

"Bye, Leila!" she chirped.

"Brother! Take good care of my friend!"

The abrupt change in her attitude was dramatic enough to rival a face-changing opera.

Nathaniel Cole was used to it, but he still felt a pang of embarrassment in front of Leila Jennings. He shot his sister a harsh glare.

Leila, on the other hand, was surprised. She’d never have guessed that the cold and ruthless President of The Cole Group was actually so "unpopular" with his own family.

She blinked, looking thoroughly bemused. freёweɓnovel.com

"President Cole."

"Mm." Only then did Nathaniel Cole truly take in Leila Jennings’s appearance. Her eyebrows were shaped like crescent moons, her cheeks were rosy, and the light lipstick she wore was a soft, dusty rose.

Her neck, in particular, was like white jade—so fragile it seemed like porcelain. He worried the pearls resting there might mar its surface.

For a moment, Nathaniel Cole was completely captivated.

Leila Jennings glanced down at herself but couldn’t see anything out of place.

Nathaniel Cole snapped back to reality. "Who did you come with," he asked, "all dressed up like this?"

Leila had already prepared herself for this question.

"With Sean Sinclair."

No sooner had the words left her mouth than she heard a soft laugh.

She looked up.

Nathaniel Cole was still straight-faced. "I thought you were getting a divorce. Why are you still attending events with him?"

His tone was perfectly calm.

"There’s a one-month cooling-off period for the divorce," Leila said. Unwilling to discuss it further, she looked for an out. "I’m going to get something to eat over there."

"Wait." Nathaniel Cole reached out and took hold of her arm.

The man’s warmth seeped through her lace gloves, and Leila’s skin began to feel hot.

She turned back. "President Cole, I’m not your secretary tonight."

"Are you Mrs. Sinclair, then?" Nathaniel Cole lifted his chin, gesturing toward Sarah Lynch, who was holding court in a crowd nearby. "So who is she?"

A pang went through Leila’s heart, and she forcefully wrenched her hand free.

Nathaniel Cole watched her snatch her hand back. A flash of surprise appeared in his eyes, but then he recalled that Leila was, in fact, surprisingly strong.

He withdrew his hand.

He asked, "How long have you and Sean Sinclair been married?"

This was the second time Nathaniel Cole had asked her this. Asking the same question twice was bound to raise suspicions.

Leila frowned slightly. "Why do you ask?"

"You told me before, but I’ve forgotten." Nathaniel Cole stared intently into her eyes, searching for any sign of wavering or any crack in her facade.

Leila said, "Four years and one hundred and fifteen days."

"Why so interested in other people’s business, President Cole?" Sean Sinclair suddenly materialized, his arm snaking around Leila’s waist. He was smiling. "Didn’t you hear? Leila and I have been married for four years and one hundred and fifteen days."

Leila went rigid. Every cell in her body recoiled from Sean Sinclair’s touch.

"Four years and one hundred and fifteen days..." Nathaniel Cole’s gaze flickered between them. "You have a good memory, President Sinclair."

"Thank you for the compliment, President Cole." Sean Sinclair switched to taking Leila’s hand. "If you’ll excuse us."

He dragged Leila away, taking long strides and paying no mind to the high heels she was wearing. She stumbled and wobbled, and halfway across the floor, one of her shoes fell off.

"Sean Sinclair!" Leila tried to wrench her hand free, but his grip was too tight, his nails digging into her skin.

Sean Sinclair kept dragging her.

Not wanting to hurt her foot on top of her hand, Leila kicked off her other high heel as well.

Nathaniel Cole bent down and picked up both of the high heels that had been left on the floor.

He noticed a trace of blood on the heel of the second shoe and frowned.

Holding the shoes in one hand, Nathaniel Cole took out his phone with the other and made a call.

"Has a woman named Leila Jennings called you in the past couple of days about a divorce?"

The man on the other end of the line paused. "Not in the last two days, no. But she did a few days ago. We drew up a divorce agreement."

Nathaniel Cole hung up.

He now understood why Leila had said "four years and one hundred and fifteen days" three times in a row, and why the number hadn’t changed.

Because on the one hundred and fifteenth day of the fourth year of their marriage, she had signed the divorce papers.

Leila Jennings was already in the process of divorcing Sean Sinclair.

A ghost of a smile played on Nathaniel Cole’s lips.

...

Leila was dragged by Sean Sinclair to a deserted corner.

He finally let go of her.

He, too, began to size Leila up. Impeccably dressed, with delicate features, slender and tall—she was completely different from the Leila he knew.

And all of this was Nathaniel Cole’s doing.

Nathaniel Cole had gone to great lengths to dress up his secretary. As a man himself, Sean knew exactly what sort of filthy intentions were behind such an act.

"Why are you dressed like this? And why did you come to this reception with Nathaniel Cole?"

Leila knew he would be furious, but she couldn’t understand what he was so worked up about. ’Instead of going to his precious Lover, he’s over here yelling at me.’

"This is the proper attire for the event," she explained simply.

Sean Sinclair had, in fact, seen her beautiful side before. On their wedding day, the sight of Leila in her splendid gown had left him breathless more than once.

He’d always known she was a natural beauty. But over time, having only seen her day in and day out looking drab and exhausted in the kitchen, he had forgotten just how beautiful she could be.

The last time Leila had dressed up like this, it was to marry him.

This time, it was to accompany her boss to an event.

A strange wave of jealousy washed over him. Sean Sinclair reached out, pulling the ornament from her hair and ripping off her gloves, only to find it made no difference.

Someone else had made Leila beautiful. She no longer seemed like something that belonged to him.

He then reached for her mouth to wipe off her lipstick. "Who are you trying to copy, wearing lipstick? It’s hideous. A guy like Nathaniel Cole has depraved tastes. Rich people like him love playing these Cinderella-makeover games!"

He scrubbed at her lips so hard they hurt. She pushed his hand away.

"Sean Sinclair, what are you doing?"

"What do you think YOU’RE doing!" Sean Sinclair closed in again, pulling Leila forcefully into his embrace and scrubbing at her face with the palm of his hand, trying to rub off her makeup.

"You get yourself all dolled up like this for Nathaniel Cole... Are you trying to climb into his bed?"

Leila couldn’t believe he was projecting his own behavior onto her. She raised her hand to slap him.

This time, Sean Sinclair caught her hand.

Leila said furiously, "Not everyone is like you, Sean Sinclair. Don’t you dare think I’m as disgusting as you are."

Sean Sinclair’s pupils shrank, and the arms holding her slackened.

"What do you know?"

Leila immediately broke free.

She lost her balance and stumbled backward, but someone suddenly appeared behind her, reaching out to steady her.

"President Sinclair, do I need to arrange for a legal primer for you?"

"Domestic violence is a crime."

The man’s voice was firm and resonant.