The Billionaire Who Faked A Split To Keep His Affair Chapter 06

The Billionaire Who Faked A Split To Keep His Affair Chapter 06

Kellan went straight to Rookwell Biotech.

The receptionist recognized him.

The moment she saw him, her expression turned strange.

“Marlowe? She left last month.”

Kellan froze.

“Left?”

“Yeah. She resigned.”

“Where did she go?”

“Grad school. Out in Oregon, I think.”

The receptionist frowned, trying to remember.

“I don’t know which university. She left in a hurry. Finished all the paperwork in one day.”

Someone at a nearby desk looked over.

It was one of Marlowe’s former coworkers.

The woman studied Kellan with open confusion.

“Aren’t you her boyfriend? She used to video–call you every day at lunch. How do you not know she

moved?”

Kellan opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Then the coworker added, “Actually, her best friend came by too. Tamsin. She showed up the day

after Marlowe left.”

Kellan’s head snapped up.

“Tamsin came here?”

“Yeah.”

The woman looked between him and the door.

“Her boyfriend and her best friend both had no idea she was leaving? That’s… kind of weird.”

Kellan barely heard the last part.

Tamsin had known.

she’d known the day after Marlowe left.

And for nearly two weeks, while she’d been living with him, sleeping beside him, eating with him, she hadn’t said a word.

He walked out of the building into the bright afternoon sun.

His neck burned from the heat.

The rest of him felt cold.

When he got home, the smell hit him first.

Takeout containers were stacked across the coffee table.

Grease had soaked through plastic bags, and dried sauce stuck to the surface.

Shipping boxes and torn packing material littered the floor.

Three or four jackets were thrown across the couch, and one of Tamsin’s scarves was draped over

the TV remote.

Tamsin was curled up on the couch, playing a game on her phone.

Her thumbs moved rapidly over the screen.

Without looking up, she asked, “You’re back. Where are my hot wings?”

Kellan checked his phone.

Ten minutes earlier, she’d texted:

Tamsin: Bring me hot wings. Extra hot.

“I didn’t see it.”

His voice sounded rough.

“Mmm.”

Her eyes stayed glued to the screen.

“Then go now. I’ll finish this round by the time you get back.”

Kellan didn’t move.

He stood in the entryway, staring at the mess.

The boxes.

The grease stains.

The blanket crumpled beneath a stack of takeout containers.

Marlowe had knitted that blanket last year.

Cream–colored yarn. Crooked stitches.

She’d laughed when she gave it to him.

First thing I’ve ever knitted. It’s ugly, but at least it’s warm.

Now one corner was smeared with sauce.

“Tamsin.”

His voice came out hoarse.

“Marlowe moved to Oregon. You knew the day after she left, didn’t you?”

Tamsin looked away.

Then she threw her phone onto the couch.

“I knew it.”

Her voice rose.

“You still care about her. She hasn’t even been gone two weeks. You were perfectly happy before, and now you’re acting heartbroken?”

“I asked why you didn’t tell me.”

Kellan’s voice stayed flat.

“What difference would it have made?”

She jumped to her feet.

“You kept saying you loved me. You said you wanted us to be together.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“I’m the one who’s been sleeping next to you, cooking for you, listening to you complain about work. And now you’re interrogating me over her?”

She swallowed hard.

“Fine. I get it. I’m not as good as Marlowe. If you care that much, go find her.”

She stormed toward the bedroom and started throwing clothes into a bag.

Tamsin had done this countless times before.

Whenever they argued, even over something small, she’d threaten to leave.

And every time, Kellan would chase after her.

Grab her.

Hold her.

Apologize over and over until she softened.

He knew the routine by heart.

He’d done it more than a dozen times.

This time, he didn’t move.

He leaned against the entryway cabinet and watched her kick aside a box before yanking more

clothes from the closet.

He was suddenly exhausted.

“Fine.”

Tamsin froze.

She turned around slowly.

“What did you say?”

“Go.”

He rubbed his forehead.

“I’m tired.”

Her mouth fell open.

Then she glared at him, grabbed her bag, and slammed the door behind her.

Kellan stood there alone.

Then he started cleaning.

He stacked the takeout containers and tied them inside trash bags.

He flattened the boxes and leaned them against the wall.

He gathered the clothes from the couch and threw them into the washing machine.

When he crouched to scrub the dried sauce from Marlowe’s blanket, his fingers caught on the

rough, uneven stitches.

He suddenly gripped the fabric.

What had Marlowe thought about all those times she’d cleaned up after him?

When the place was spotless again, Kellan booked the next available flight to Oregon.

He was going to find her.

He was going to ask her to forgive him.