Chapter 11
After a while, Alexander received a call. “Mr. Hawke, we found something. Ms. York had a record at Mercy Hospital.”
Hearing that, he jumped into his car and sped off without a word. In the rearview mirror, he could see the sun dipping low and casting a crimson glow over the river. It was just like the unshed tear that had clung to Vanessa’s lashes the last time she looked at him.
He pushed open the doors to Mercy Hospital, ‘his face dark with tension. When he saw Vanessa, he would surely…
“Vanessa York,” the receptionist muttered as she tapped away on her keyboard. “She was
discharged this morning.”
“When exactly?” Alexander’s voice turned sharp and cold.
“Around… two hours ago?” the nurse replied nervously, shrinking under his intense gaze.
Alexander clenched his fists, his knuckles turning pale. He spun on his heel and strode straight to the security office, demanding to see the surveillance footage.
The footage flashed frame by frame until a familiar figure finally appeared at the end of the
hallway. She wore a simple white shirt and faded jeans. Her long hair was loosely tied back,
and though her face was pale, she radiated a strange sense of calmness.
She didn’t even glance back once.
memory,
Alexander’s breath caught in his throat. That was Vanessa, yet it wasn’t her. In his Vanessa always looked at him with patience and tenderness, but now her eyes held nothing.
Had she really forgotten him?
He closed his eyes, his chest churning with indescribable emotions. She had just disappeared like that, with no goodbye or explanation.
He suddenly remembered the last time he saw her. She had stood on the auction platform with hollow eyes, saying, “Mr. Hawke, as you wished.”
Back then, he thought she would never leave, but now she was truly gone. This time, he didn’t even know where to look for her.
Outside the office’s floor-to-ceiling windows, dusk pressed down. Alexander stared at his computer screen, his fingers unconsciously tapping the desk. The screen displayed a quarterly report with numbers densely arranged, but he hadn’t absorbed a single word.
“Mr. Hawke, your coffee.” The new assistant, Mandy Cooper, placed a cup gently on the corner
of his desk, her voice cautious.
Alexander took a sip, then immediately frowned. “Too sweet.’
“Huh?” Mandy froze. “But Ms. Watson said you’ve been asking for double sugar lately…”
“Get me a new one.” He pushed the cup away with more irritation than he realized. “Black coffee. No sugar.”
Mandy nodded quickly and backed out of the room.
Alexander rubbed his temples and glanced toward the corner of his desk, where there used to
be a
cup of black coffee at the perfect temperature every morning. A small sticky note would always be tucked beneath it, outlining his day’s priorities in neat handwriting.
Just like Vanessa herself-quiet, precise, and always just right.
Suddenly, he stood up. His suit jacket brushed against the coffee cup, knocking it over. The brown liquid spread across the paperwork, but he didn’t even blink.
He walked straight to the window and looked out at the city skyline. Neon lights shimmered
across the wet streets below, blurred by the rain.
His phone buzzed, and the name “Lucille Watson” lit up the screen. He stared at it for a long time until the call ended on its own.
The lock screen wallpaper appeared, and it was a photo from last week of Lucille holding his arm with a bright smile. She had specifically set this, saying it would make him think of her
whenever he looked at his phone.
However, why did he always feel something was missing from the picture?
“Mr. Hawke, your coffee,” Mandy called out, knocking timidly again.
Alexander accepted the cup. The bitter taste slid down his throat, familiar and grounding.
The taste was just right.
As the flavor spread through his mouth, a memory surfaced. Five years ago, just two months after Vanessa started working for him, he’d switched to drinking black coffee.
“Alexander!” The office door banged open as Lucille stepped inside, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. Her perfume hit him like a wall. “Why aren’t you answering my calls?”
Alexander blinked, pulling himself back. “Busy.”
“You still need to eat.” Lucille pouted as she set down a takeout box. “I had the kitchen make your favorite-glazed pork ribs.”
Chapter 11
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She opened the box, releasing a thick, syrupy scent that quickly filled the room.
Alexander stared at the dish, and his stomach twisted. He had loved it once, but not now.
“What’s wrong?” Lucille picked up a piece and held it out to him. “Come on, I watched the chef make it myself.”
He forced himself to take a bite, and the flavor exploded in his mouth. It was too sweet, cloyingly so. He instinctively looked for water, but the only thing on the desk was that bitter
black coffee.
“Is it not good?” Lucille’s smile faltered.
“It’s not that,” Alexander replied, setting down his fork. “I guess… my taste has changed lately.”
“Changed?” Her voice rose an octave, and something in her cracked. “Last week, you didn’t like the tie I bought. Two days ago, you said the apartment decoration was too flashy. And now your taste in food’s changed too?”
Her eyes welled up, and her voice trembled. “Alexander, are you… done with me now that you’ve had what you wanted?”
