Chapter 120

Hannah’s expression darkened. She pulled out her phone and checked the calendar. A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “We were married in the spring. It’s autumn now. Who did you marry in the fall that you’re confusing their anniversary with mine p>

When he’d said the words “wedding anniversary,” her heart had skipped a beat. A flicker of panic, of guilt. Their actual anniversary had passed months ago, and neither of them had mentioned it. She remembered working late that day, coming home exhausted, and collapsing into bed. It wasn’t until the next morning that she realized, and she had grabbed her phone, ready to apologize for forgetting. But she saw that he hadn’t mentioned it either, so she let it go. The day had simply passed, forgotten by both of them.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lionel said, pouring her a glass of red wine. “You mentioned we both forgot this year, so I wanted to make it up to you. You always said the little rituals are important. Look at the view from here. It’s beautiful p>

Hannah took a sip of the wine. Something felt off. This was more than just a make-up dinner. In all their years together, he’d never done something like this. The feeling of unease grew stronger, the sour taste of the wine coating her tongue.

As the waiter began bringing out dish after dish, her suspicions solidified. He was here for something else.

“You used to love celebrating holidays,” Lionel said, noticing her grim expression. “You always said life needed more ceremony. I know I was wrong the past couple of years. I apologize. From now on, I’ll spend every holiday with you p>

Hannah stabbed her fork into the lobster on her plate. “Spend every holiday with me? By taking me out for seafood so you can watch me die from an allergic reaction? Ther you’d be a widower, free to marry the woman you actually love p>

“And since I would have died from an allergy, not a divorce, your grandmother wouldn’t get upset and fall ill. Is that the plan p>

Of the twelve dishes on the table, six were seafood. And she recognized more than half of them as Sandra’s favorites.

“I went to the police station to see Xenia today. You must have heard. Are you worried she’s going to confess that Sandra put her up to it? Are you here, under the guise of a make-up anniversary, to ask me to let Sandra off the hook p>

She had been running through scenarios in her head the entire way here. This was the only one that made sense. The seafood on the table was the final, brutal confirmation. It chilled her to the bone.

“I didn’t order this,” Lionel said, his eyes fixed on the plates. “I had Owen make the arrangements. He must have made a mistake p>

His brow furrowed, and he

immediately summoned the waiter,

instructing him to clear the table and bring non-seafood dishes. He had

been

busy with meetings that hed only given Owen brief instructions. He never imagined it would turn into such a disaster. If

he’d known, he would have handled it himself.