They Want Me Back When It's Too Late (Jessica and Brian) novel Chapter 75

Chapter 75

Chapter 75

Jessica frowned, her mind racing. Who is the one sending me anonymous messages? It must be someone from Brian’s company, but definitely Madeline’s pawn

Just then, Herbert knocked on the door. “Ms. Grant, Mrs. Grant says if you don’t go home soon, she’ll come picky

you up hersel

Jessica let the tension in her chest fade and glanced at the clock. It was almost eight, “Got it. Thanks for coming, Herbert She didn’t pursue the mystery tester’s identity or motives, Grabbing her folder and switching off the lights, she left the office

At the restaurant, Brian’s gaze kept darting to his silent phone throughout dinner. Even as Jacob finished his meal, Brian didn’t receive a reply.

Brian thought, ‘She truly didn’t care!

“Mr. Atkinson, thank you for this wonderful dinner,” Madeline smiled.

As they left the restaurant, Brian had already arranged for a car to take Madeline home. He wouldn’t be driving her back himself.

Madeline hid a flicker of disappointment behind her smile. Jacob rubbed his eyes sleeply. “Dad, I’m sleepy.”

At first, Madeline had played with Jacob, but then a few other kids showed up, and he had gone wild with excitement. Now that it was almost ten, he was sleepy.

Brian crouched and scooped Jacob into his arms, gave Madeline a nod, and then carried him to the back seat.

Madeline forced a sweet smile, waving gently as the car pulled away. “Goodbye, Mr. Atkinson. Bye, Jake.”

Her smile held a mix of shyness and quiet joy. She told herself, ‘Be patient. Tonight’s dinner marked undeniable progress”

In her mind, this dinner had been an intimate candlelit dinner–just her and Brian Jacob barely ate anything anyway. He spent most of the time playing with kids in the play area.

On the way home, Jacob had fallen asleep in the back seat.

By the time they got home, Brian had to rouse the groggy boy and take him through bedtime routines.

No sooner

had he tucked Jacob in than Jackson called and reported that the pastry

try chef had arrived, along with crates of tropical fruits.

Next morning, Jessica had barely settled at her desk when an assistant knocked, with arms full of fruit bags.

“Ms. Grant, where should put these?” the assistant asked.

Assuming they were from Herbert, Jessica pointed to the table. “There’s fine.”

“Got it.” The assistant set them down and hurried out, only to retum moments later with another heavy load. Within minutes, the two–meter–long table was nearly full.

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