Chapter 92
Chapter 92:
“Mr. Koch is at the office. He hasn’t come home for dinner. Again,” Mrs. Higgins said, splitting a carrot clean in half. “Mrs. Koch is away p>
Azalea frowned. She hopped off the counter. “They had a fight. I can feel it. The vibes are rancid p>
She pulled out her phone and called Dallas. No answer.
She called Eliza.
“Hey! Mom!” Azalea chirped.
“Hey, Azalea,” Eliza answered, her voice low.
“Dad is starving,” Azalea lied without hesitation. “He hasn’t eaten all day. Mrs. Higgins made his favorite dim sum, but he won’t come home. He’s at the office, probably wasting away p>
“I’m at Hyde Manor, Azalea. It’s late,” Eliza said, hesitating.
“Please? If he gets an ulcer, that’s on you,” Azalea pressed. “He listens to you. Just drop off the food. You don’t even have to stay p>
Dо𝗐𝘯𝘭𝗈𝘢𝘥 𝖯D𝘍ѕ 𝗳𝘳eе оn ѕ.сo𝗆
Eliza sighed. She missed him. The cold text from the night before had been gnawing at her all day. She needed to see his face.
“Okay. I’ll go p>
Eliza slipped out of Hyde Manor, telling the night nurse she had a work emergency at the firm. She took a taxi to Koch Tower, stopping at a late-night place to pick up actual dim sum. She arrived at the tower at eleven. The security guard looked up and nodded. “Good evening, Mrs. Koch p>
The elevator ride up felt like an eternity.
The CEO’s office was dark, lit only by the glow of the city skyline and the cold blue light of computer monitors. Dallas stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the rain-soaked city, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He looked like a lonely king surveying a kingdom he no longer cared about.
Eliza knocked softly on the glass door.
Dallas turned. A flicker of surprise crossed his face — then his expression shuttered, the walls rising.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Azalea said you were starving.” Eliza held up the takeout bag.
Dallas checked his phone. He let out a quiet, humorless sound. “Azalea is manipulating you p>
“I know,” Eliza admitted, stepping into the room. “But I wanted to come p>
She walked to his desk and set the food down. The smell of shrimp dumplings filled the sterile air.
“Are we fighting, Dallas?” she asked directly.
Dallas looked at her. He took a slow sip of whiskey. “I saw him holding you p>
“And you saw me push him away,” she countered.
“I saw his hands on my wife,” Dallas said. His voice was dark and heavy with something that went beyond anger. “That is enough to make me want to tear the world apart p>
Dallas walked around the desk. He ignored the food. He moved with a slow, deliberate grace that made Eliza’s breath catch.
“You shouldn’t be here. It’s late,” he said. But his body language said the opposite — he was standing between her and the door.
“I’m going back to the Manor after this. I just wanted to check on you,” Eliza said.
“Going back to him,” Dallas corrected.
“To Victoria,” she insisted.