Silent Dreams Never Die — Author: John Miller 359
Even so, Vincent made a U–turn and headed back to the office.
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By the time he arrived, several senior executives were already assembled in the conference
room.
Abbott stepped forward to brief him. “Mr. Stewart, I’ve confirmed it was Zachary’s group that outbid us for the project rights.”
Vincent frowned, perplexed. “I thought his holdings were in hospitality. Since when did he move into construction and development?”
Abbott shook his head. “It’s unclear.”
After a moment’s consideration, Vincent replied dismissively, “Let him have it. It’s not a critical loss. We just need to ensure the subsequent handover is managed smoothly.”
“That was our assessment as well,” Abbott agreed. “However, there is a substantial amount of documentation that still requires your personal review and signature.”
Knowing he couldn’t leave at this point, Vincent acquiesced. “Very well.”
And so, Vincent remained at the office, working through the night. By morning, his eyes were bloodshot from the all–nighter. He was just wrapping up as dawn began to lighten the sky.
Abbott brought in a simple breakfast. After eating quickly, Vincent tackled the final tasks. By the time everything was signed off, it was pushing ten o’clock.
A nagging concern for Scarlett prompted him to drive to the hospital.
Upon arrival, however, he learned from the nurse that Scarlett had been discharged that very morning. “She left about an hour ago,” the nurse informed him.
Back in his car, Vincent didn’t hesitate. He pulled out his phone and called Scarlett.
The line was answered almost immediately, and Vincent demanded, “Where are you?” His voice was hoarse and deep from the sleepless night, laced with an edge of irritation.
Instead of Scarlett, a smug male voice answered. “She’s sleeping.”
Vincent’s brow furrowed. “Damian?”
Damian let out a low, satisfied laugh. “The one and only.”
Vincent got straight to the point. “Where have you taken her?”
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Damian, however, dismissed the question with mockery. “Since when do you have the right to ask?”
Before Vincent could retort, the line went dead. Listening to the dial tone, a sharp, sour feeling twisted in his gut.
They had filed for divorce and were in the mandatory separation period–so why did this bother him so much? He couldn’t even pinpoint the exact nature of his discomfort.
As he sat there, lost in the uneasy feeling, his phone rang again. For a fleeting moment, he thought it might be Scarlett calling back. Glancing down, he saw Sabrina’s name.
He paused, then answered. “Sabrina.”
Hearing the roughness in his voice, Sabrina guessed he’d pulled an all–nighter.
After a brief internal debate, she ventured, “Mr. Newman is hosting a dinner tonight. Would you accompany me?”
Vincent agreed without hesitation. “Of course.”
They spoke for a few more minutes, the conversation mostly revolving around Vanessa. Afterwards, Vincent said he needed to go.
He initially considered having Abbott track Scarlett’s location but decided against it. He needed sleep. Being well–rested was essential for the dinner with Sabrina later.
With Xavier staying at Ravenshade Villa, Vincent headed to Oakland Villa to get some rest.
When he arrived at the villa, Freya was in the kitchen having a late lunch–a simple meal of reheated leftovers. Hearing the door, she looked up, surprised. “Mr. Stewart! What brings you back?”
Hearing her tone, Vincent couldn’t help but ask, “Is it that unusual?”
Freya nodded. “It is, Mr. Stewart. You and Mrs. Stewart haven’t been back in quite some time.”
Her words evoked a strange pang of melancholy. In his memory, whenever he returned to Oakland Villa, Scarlett was always there, attending to every detail. Now, she was gone.
Musing on this, he murmured in agreement, “It has been a while.”
His gaze swept the familiar space, and for a moment, it felt as if no time had passed at all. Yet everything was undeniably different.
Seeing his pensiye look, Freya added softly, “Mrs. Stewart used to come by often too, but now…”
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Not wanting to dwell on Freya’s reminiscence, Vincent cut in, “I’m going to get some sleep. Please wake me at four.”
Freya simply nodded. “Yes.”
*****
At Theron Manor, Damian was lounging on the living room sofa. He had just ended the call with Vincent when the front door opened and Nathan walked in, arms laden with grocery bags.
Seeing him, Damian quickly pocketed his phone, stood up, and went to the doorway to help. “Here, let me get those for you.”
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