Since I had to return to the house to gather my things anyway, I didn’t refuse Daniela’s “kindness.”
Inside the spacious black car, silence hung heavily—until, as if right on cue, I spotted something wedged between the seat cushions.
A pair of still-damp lace panties.
“Oh my!” Daniela gasped. “How did that end up here?”
“Michael, didn’t you say you took care of it already?”
Biting her lip, Daniela threw herself into his arms, blushing as she playfully hit his chest.
Michael chuckled and apologized, blaming everything on himself—yet his eyes subtly shifted, watching my reaction.
But when he saw that I wasn't angry at all, the same restlessness he’d felt back in the hospital room crept back into his chest, inexplicably heavy.
“Ashlyn,” he said coldly, “you’ve been glued to your phone ever since you got in the car.”
His voice carried a note of jealousy.
“Chatting with your cousin? Or someone else I don’t know?”
I had just finished booking my plane ticket and locked my phone screen.
“Just reading the news,” I replied calmly.
But rather than easing his mood, my answer only deepened the frown between his brows.
Catching me off guard, he snatched the phone from my hand.