The Best Revenge It Wasn't Even Your Child novel Chapter 399

What on earth did Harrell say to Lance?

Catherine barely had a moment to process before her phone buzzed. A million possibilities raced through her mind in just a few seconds. She didn’t even have time to joke about it with Lorinda. She answered the call right away.

“Lance.”

“Come downstairs.” His voice was cold, almost icy.

Catherine could practically picture the stormy look on his face. Her heart skipped a beat. Whatever she’d said to Lorinda earlier would be mortifying if Lance found out. But from the way he sounded, he wasn’t just irritated, he was actually angry.

He hung up before she could say anything else. Catherine stared at the dark phone screen, her brow creasing.

“What happened?” Lorinda asked, swallowing her last bite and clearing her throat. “Why do you look like that? Is he about to yell at you for crying after the divorce or something?”

Catherine grabbed her stuff, ready to go. “Something’s off. Can you find out what Harrell told Lance?”

Lorinda followed her to the door. “Harrell didn’t say anything nice about you?”

“All I know is Lance is here, and he’s in a terrible mood.” Catherine hadn’t done anything to upset him lately. What else could it be?

As soon as she stepped out of the hospital, she spotted a Cullinan parked by the curb. Lance was leaning against it, the city’s neon lights outlining his tall, effortlessly cool silhouette.

His eyes were deep, unreadable. The second Catherine appeared, his gaze zeroed in on her.

At this hour, the hospital was almost deserted. In her creamy long dress, Catherine stood out. She picked up her skirt as she hurried down the steps, quick little steps carrying her toward him.

“Lance, it’s so late. Why are you here?”

His jaw tightened, the line of it sharp enough to cut glass. “Catherine, if you’re going to keep secrets, you’d better hide them well. If I catch you…”

You’ll regret it. Catherine could almost hear the unspoken threat. Her heart missed a beat.

The neon lights washed over her face, making the tension in the car obvious.

After half an hour, they turned at an intersection near her place.

“Just stop here,” Catherine said, pointing. “I’ll walk from the entrance.”

There was a traffic jam at the entrance, two cars blocking everything as their drivers argued. Catherine could hear the shouting even with the windows up.

As soon as Lance parked, she got out, not looking back. He paused, hand on his seatbelt, watching her walk away.

She didn’t have to look over her shoulder to know he was still watching as she walked past the accident and rounded the corner.

Only then did she stop and glance back. The entrance was bright, a small crowd still arguing about who was at fault. Through the jumble of people, she could see the Cullinan was gone.

Catherine let out a long breath, finally able to relax.