I Was His Secret Genius, Now I’m His Biggest Regret Chapter 23

I Was His Secret Genius, Now I’m His Biggest Regret Chapter 23

A sharp pain pierced his heart.

Clayton took a deep breath and pushed open the glass door.

The clear jingle of the doorbell broke the focused hum of the factory. Several people looked up, their gazes landing on the uninvited guest.

Ava saw him, and her expression paused for only an instant.

The smile vanished, replaced by a calmness Clayton had never seen, so cool it bordered on indifference, as if she were looking at a stranger who had stumbled into the wrong place.

The man in the black-rimmed glasses, Ethan, instinctively moved closer to Ava, his eyes filled with a wary scrutiny.

Clayton ignored him. His eyes were only on Ava.

“I’m here to take you home.” His voice trembled in a way even he didn’t notice.

Ava’s gaze was faint, as if she were looking at a piece of furniture that had been misplaced.

“I think you’ve come to the wrong place, Mr. Montgomery,” she said. Her eyes moved away from him as she lowered her head and continued looking at the tablet. “Ethan, where were we? The temperature curve during mashing…”

“Ava.” He took a step forward, his voice rising despite himself.

Ethan immediately stepped between them, subtly blocking Ava from Clayton’s aggressive stare.

“There’s nothing to discuss.” Ava put down the tablet. There was no anger in her tone, only a weary finality. “Ethan, let’s go. We’ll look at the data in the office.”

Ethan nodded and turned with her, preparing to walk toward an office deeper inside the factory.

Just as Ava brushed past Clayton, a thin, piercing voice cut through the air.

“Mom!”

Daisy rushed in like a small cannonball, throwing her arms around Ava’s leg and lifting a tear-streaked face. “Mom! Do you not want us anymore?”

The room fell silent. Everyone’s eyes focused on the dramatic scene.

Then Beau ran in. Unlike his sister, he didn’t wail. His eyes were red as he reached out and grabbed a corner of Ava’s blue work shirt.

“Mom,” he said, his voice hoarse with fear and pleading. “Come home with us.”

Ava stopped.

She lowered her head. Her gaze fell on the small hand gripping the hem of her clothes so tightly the knuckles had turned white. It was her son’s hand.

Then, slowly, she stepped back.

The dark blue fabric, dusted with malt powder, slid decisively out of Beau’s clenched fingers.

“Home?” she asked.

Her voice was very light, yet it struck Clayton’s heart like a physical blow.

“When did I ever have a home?”