NovelBarDon was the first to snap out of it, quickly nudging Cindy with a poke. "Cindy."
Cindy snapped back to reality, "Oh, | will send you Director Yearwood's address, the Fragrant complex."
As she spoke, she whipped out her phone and shot Don the detailed address.
Don quickly passed it on to Brandon, and when he looked up, Brandon's tall, strapping silhouette had already vanished at the
entrance of the cafeteria.
Brandon didn't check his phone until he was in the car.
The complex wasn't far from the company, but it was in the opposite direction of his way home.
With a swift twist of the steering wheel, he was off.
It took him less than twenty minutes to get to the complex.
Brandon took a quick look inside.
The complex was sizable, pitched as a mid to high-end living area.
Full of life, with tight security, you had to sign in and out.
Brandon vaguely remembered Sophia living in a similar complex back in Wye City, wondered if it was a habit of hers.
After registering at the guard post, Brandon drove in, following Don's intel to find building 8 tucked away deep in the complex. He
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtparked and took the elevator up to Sophia's floor.
Sophia's place was on the fifteenth floor.
The elevator dinged to a stop on the fifteenth floor.
Stepping out, Brandon took a casual look around - a three-apartment, two-elevator layout with decent hallway decor and good
maintenance. Seemed secure enough.
He headed straight to door 1506 and knocked, a steady "thump-thump-thump".
Sophia was lying on the couch with her eyes closed, trying to rest.
She'd just gotten back from the hospital, still feeling dizzy.
MRI cback clear, no issues with her brain or blood vessels - probably just the overtime, late nights, and last night's booze and
chill catching up with her.
A walk hadn't helped much. She still felt groggy and under the weather. The tumble she took saving Louis wasn't light either -
elbows, knees, and hips had all slammed down hard, still aching, with scraped elbows and knees.
She didn't regret diving to save Louis, didn't even know it was him. An old man nearly taking a spill, saving him was just instinct.
She had meant to head straight to the 130-something square meter place on the sixteenth floor when she got back, but then
thought of Cindy saying she'd cby later and decided to stop on the fifteenth floor instead.
The two-bedroom was rented as an office space.
Impossible to get work done with the kids around.
Theresa wasn't clingy. As long as Sophia wasn't home, she'd stick with Susan and Grace, her caretakers, never bothering Sophia.
But as soon as Sophia was home, Theresa was all over her.
Now, even though she wasn't as swamped as back in Wye City, juggling studies and work, she still had her fair share of late nights.
The knock puzzled Sophia, she'd wanted to ignore it, but the persistent "thump-thump" sounded serious.
Forcing herself up despite feeling weak, she muttered "Coming," then pulled open the door, only to freeze.
Brandon stood at the doorstep, his tailored black suit accentuating his naturally cool and sharp aura.
Sophia tried to ask what he was doing there, but her throat felt choked up.
Brandon's gaze lingered on her pale face, then he asked, "What's with the mess?"
"Just caught a bit of a chill," Sophia said softly, then looked at him, "Why are you here?"
Instead of answering, Brandon just asked, "Have you eaten?"
As he spoke, his eyes had already moved past Sophia's shoulder to the dining table behind her.
There was a takeaway box on the table, opened but almost untouched and clearly cold.
Following his gaze, Sophia glanced at the box.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏm"I had a sandwich outside," she explained awkwardly, "l ordered the takeaway earlier, but it didn't sit well with my stomach, so |
didn't eat it."
Brandon gave her a look but didn't say anything.
The strange silence made Sophia even more uncomfortable. She was about to say something when Brandon pushed past her into
the apartment.
"I'll make you spasta, | haven't eaten either," he said.
As he spoke, Brandon was already heading towards the kitchen, asking over his shoulder, "What's in the fridge?"
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