Pick A Number, He Said, I Picked Divorce Chapter 08

Pick A Number, He Said, I Picked Divorce Chapter 08

The next few days were deeply uncomfortable for Silas.

No one made breakfast. All he could do was drink coffee.

Right now, his stomach was faintly cramping.

Out of habit, he pulled open the second drawer on the left side of his desk to look for his antacids.

Empty.

There was only a sticky note Serena had left behind:

[Let me know when the pills run out. Also, stop drinking iced Americans.]

Back then, he’d thought she was nagging and had casually shoved the note into a corner.

Now the medicine was gone. And no one told him.

During a meeting, he searched his bag twice for the partnership proposal. He couldn’t find it.

Without thinking, he picked up his phone and sent Serena a message.

[Serena, where did you put my proposal?]

The next second, a red exclamation mark popped up.

He froze for a beat before it hit him—she had already blocked him.

He had no choice but to call Fiona instead.

“Go to the study. Find the documents for me.”

On the other end, there was silence for a while. Then came the sound of files constantly falling.

After a long moment, Fiona’s aggrieved voice came through.

“Silas, there are way too many files. I can’t find it…”

He closed his eyes and forced down his frustration.

“Forget it.”

With that, he hung up directly.

The client, Mr. Wright, sat across from him. His fingers tapped on the tabletop. His expression was visibly impatient.

Silas looked at Mr. Wright, his face full of apology.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wright. Give me a moment. I’ll go back and get it.”

Mr. Wright let out a cold snort and stood up abruptly, knocking his chair over.

“Time?”

“Mr. Sterling, if you can even forget a proposal, it’s clear you have no sincerity about this partnership.”

With that, he turned and walked out.

Silas’s fingers slowly clenched. His knuckles turned white.

These things had never been anything he needed to worry about before.

Serena would always put whatever he needed into his bag in advance.

Now, the person who had always been there to back him up—was gone.

That evening, he came home exhausted.

Fiona immediately came forward to greet him.

“Silas, you’re back.”

He grunted in acknowledgment, but his gaze drifted past her and landed on the dining table.

Empty.

Nothing at all.

By this time before, Serena would have had a full table of dishes ready and waiting for him.

Fiona noticed his expression and spoke hesitantly.

“Should I make you something to eat?”

Silas was quiet for a few seconds and then said flatly.

“No need.”

With that, he walked past her and headed toward his room.