Lost Me Gained Regret

Chapter 494

66

Greg frowned, "You'd better ask her yourself."

The usually stoic finance news figure now seemed somewhat helpless, "You know she won't tell me anything."

Leaning against the hall table, Greg's voice was indifferent, "Instead of chasing after her, maybe you should clean up your act with those tabloid rumors first."

"Which rumors?"

"Mr. Taylor has so many tabloid stories?"

Greg couldn't hide his sarcasm, defending his sister's honor.

I had seen some of Herbert's tabloid tales, but they always seemed like wild goose chases.

Yet, Herbert never really made any effort to clear the air.

Herbert frowned, "She cares about that stuff?"

Greg was at a loss for words, "Ask her, not me."

With those words, he reached for the door.

Herbert stopped the door from closing, rubbing his temple in frustration, "If I could get anything out of her, I wouldn't be asking you."

"Mr. Taylor, that's rather amusing," Greg said, barely hiding a smirk. "You and she are divorced. Apart from some necessary business collaborations, we have nothing to do with each other. If you really care, go grovel to her directly. Why involve me?"

Greg didn't mince words.

After shutting the door, Greg returned to the dining table. I was a bit worried, "Is this really okay? After all, he is Ike's dad."

"Their issues can't be solved by a third party," Greg seemed to understand the dynamics of their relationship well. "A little provocation might be the only way for Edith to finally confront him."

I was puzzled, "Confront? But they're divorced."

Ike, propped up at the table, blinked his big eyes and sighed like an old soul, "Mom loves to get worked up with Dad."

Greg flicked Ike's forehead gently, "Little rascal."

Ike puffed up in defense, "I am not a little rascal!"

Barcelona, 3 a.m.

Herbert had been awake for two straight days and nights due to last-

Renute trip, barely sleeping

on

plane while buried in wo All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

Upon landing, he took a cab straight to the hotel where Edith was staying.

He dropped his luggage in the room next door, planning to catch up on some sleep before dawn.

Yet, restlessness kept him wide awake. Deciding against sleep, he got up and knocked on the neighboring door.

The knock echoed in the quiet hallway.

Edith, not a morning person and startled in a foreign land by a late-night visit, asked through the door, "Who is it?" Herbert's voice was deep, "It's me."

Then the

peeror opened, and a groggy

Edith, rubbing in disbelief,

her eyes

out, "Herbert? What are you

doing here?"

Her usually sultry face looked

top had

fallen down her arm, likely

Cone spaghetti strap of t

during sleep, hanging loosely.

Herbert reached out, adjusting the strap back onto her shoulder, "Why are you always in spaghetti straps?"