Left at the Altar with His Triplets: The Billionaire Begs for Forgiveness - Chapter 71: Chapter 71
You are reading Left at the Altar with His Triplets: The Billionaire Begs for Forgiveness, Chapter 71: Chapter 71. Read more chapters of Left at the Altar with His Triplets: The Billionaire Begs for Forgiveness.
Victoria bit her lip: "Arnold, Paisley just called, but you weren't here, so I answered for you."
She hadn't expected me to still contact Arnold through Neil.
Arnold picked up his phone and glanced at the call log, his brow immediately furrowing.
There was no record of that call at all.
He quickly realized what had happened, looking at Victoria with a low, cold voice: "Victoria, if there's nothing important, don't come to my office so often."
"I..."
"Go back for now." He interrupted her, his eyes showing clear impatience.
Victoria was stunned, not expecting him to treat her this way.
Her eyes immediately reddened, resentment swelling rapidly in her heart, blaming it all on me.
In her mind, if not for me, Arnold would never treat her like this.
As she left, I happened to hear Neil reporting to Arnold that I was looking to arrange a meeting with him.
Victoria listened from outside the door, her palms almost bleeding from her own grip.
She couldn't endure this much longer.
She knew that to win completely, she had to eliminate me as soon as possible.
Arnold listened to Neil's report, his brow furrowing.
Without thinking, he knew I was looking for him about the divorce.
This matter... indeed needed to be discussed clearly.
He glanced at the time—it was almost lunch.
If he remembered correctly, yesterday Elodie's "mother" had said she wanted to invite him and me to lunch today.
He stood up, casually grabbing his suit jacket from nearby.
"Sir, where are we going?"
"Nebula Hotel, for lunch."
"Yes."
Clara and I brought the children to Nebula Hotel early. Although yesterday's dinner invitation was just an excuse, we had indeed made reservations for a private room.
This restaurant had an excellent reputation. When I was in New York before, Clara and I often came here to eat.
During those years abroad, I often missed the flavors here. Now that I was finally back, I couldn't miss the opportunity.
The dishes were served quickly, tasting as good as always.
Just as I was about to peel shrimp for Elodie, my phone suddenly rang.
I instinctively moved to answer, but seeing the caller ID on the screen, my heart jumped—it was Arnold.
This number was the phone we used to contact "Elodie's mother" when we were still in England.
So this call wasn't for me, but for "Elodie's mother."
I immediately handed the phone to Clara.
She was chewing food when I suddenly handed her the phone, looking confused: "Who is it?"
"Arnold, looking for you."
More precisely, looking for "the child's mother."
Clara's face immediately tensed, even putting down her chopsticks: "Why is he calling me now?"
"How would I know! Answer quickly, he's very suspicious—if you don't answer, he'll definitely get suspicious."
She quickly swallowed the food in her mouth, took the phone, took a breath and answered: "Mr. Cavendish, what can I do for you?"
I watched her nervously, my heart racing.
The next second, I heard her gasp quietly: "What? You're at the restaurant?"
My heart jumped to my throat.
What? He was here?
Had he discovered something? Was he here to catch us?
Any movement involving Arnold would make me reflexively think the worst. This state of excessive tension had almost become instinct.
I immediately leaned closer to her, getting near the phone, and heard Arnold say flatly: "Didn't you say you wanted to invite me to lunch? What, am I not welcome?"
Clara quickly smiled apologetically: "Of course not, you're certainly welcome..."
Welcome my ass.
She had only been polite yesterday, and he had clearly said he wouldn't come!
Clara hung up the phone and jumped up from her chair like a spring: "What do we do, what do we do! He's here! He's already in the elevator!"
I was almost thrown off by her rapid speech, taking a deep breath to calm myself: "Don't panic, don't panic, he's just here for a meal... Rowan, Callum, Elodie! Quick, stop eating!"
I instinctively pulled the three children up to leave, but Clara grabbed me.
"Why are you running?! He knows you and Elodie are here—if you leave with Elodie now, that's when we'll really be exposed!"
I stopped, coming to my senses: "Right, right, I can't leave, and neither can Elodie... But what about Rowan and Callum?"
Clara opened the door to peek out, her face turning pale, then quickly closed it again: "Too late, he's already coming!"
I looked at the three wide-eyed children, not even sure what expression was on my own face.
Since we couldn't run, we could only—hide.
I pulled the children to hide in the side room, while Clara quickly cleared away the extra two sets of bowls and chopsticks.
Just as she finished, the door was pushed open.
The waiter led Arnold in.
She hadn't expected me to still contact Arnold through Neil.
Arnold picked up his phone and glanced at the call log, his brow immediately furrowing.
There was no record of that call at all.
He quickly realized what had happened, looking at Victoria with a low, cold voice: "Victoria, if there's nothing important, don't come to my office so often."
"I..."
"Go back for now." He interrupted her, his eyes showing clear impatience.
Victoria was stunned, not expecting him to treat her this way.
Her eyes immediately reddened, resentment swelling rapidly in her heart, blaming it all on me.
In her mind, if not for me, Arnold would never treat her like this.
As she left, I happened to hear Neil reporting to Arnold that I was looking to arrange a meeting with him.
Victoria listened from outside the door, her palms almost bleeding from her own grip.
She couldn't endure this much longer.
She knew that to win completely, she had to eliminate me as soon as possible.
Arnold listened to Neil's report, his brow furrowing.
Without thinking, he knew I was looking for him about the divorce.
This matter... indeed needed to be discussed clearly.
He glanced at the time—it was almost lunch.
If he remembered correctly, yesterday Elodie's "mother" had said she wanted to invite him and me to lunch today.
He stood up, casually grabbing his suit jacket from nearby.
"Sir, where are we going?"
"Nebula Hotel, for lunch."
"Yes."
Clara and I brought the children to Nebula Hotel early. Although yesterday's dinner invitation was just an excuse, we had indeed made reservations for a private room.
This restaurant had an excellent reputation. When I was in New York before, Clara and I often came here to eat.
During those years abroad, I often missed the flavors here. Now that I was finally back, I couldn't miss the opportunity.
The dishes were served quickly, tasting as good as always.
Just as I was about to peel shrimp for Elodie, my phone suddenly rang.
I instinctively moved to answer, but seeing the caller ID on the screen, my heart jumped—it was Arnold.
This number was the phone we used to contact "Elodie's mother" when we were still in England.
So this call wasn't for me, but for "Elodie's mother."
I immediately handed the phone to Clara.
She was chewing food when I suddenly handed her the phone, looking confused: "Who is it?"
"Arnold, looking for you."
More precisely, looking for "the child's mother."
Clara's face immediately tensed, even putting down her chopsticks: "Why is he calling me now?"
"How would I know! Answer quickly, he's very suspicious—if you don't answer, he'll definitely get suspicious."
She quickly swallowed the food in her mouth, took the phone, took a breath and answered: "Mr. Cavendish, what can I do for you?"
I watched her nervously, my heart racing.
The next second, I heard her gasp quietly: "What? You're at the restaurant?"
My heart jumped to my throat.
What? He was here?
Had he discovered something? Was he here to catch us?
Any movement involving Arnold would make me reflexively think the worst. This state of excessive tension had almost become instinct.
I immediately leaned closer to her, getting near the phone, and heard Arnold say flatly: "Didn't you say you wanted to invite me to lunch? What, am I not welcome?"
Clara quickly smiled apologetically: "Of course not, you're certainly welcome..."
Welcome my ass.
She had only been polite yesterday, and he had clearly said he wouldn't come!
Clara hung up the phone and jumped up from her chair like a spring: "What do we do, what do we do! He's here! He's already in the elevator!"
I was almost thrown off by her rapid speech, taking a deep breath to calm myself: "Don't panic, don't panic, he's just here for a meal... Rowan, Callum, Elodie! Quick, stop eating!"
I instinctively pulled the three children up to leave, but Clara grabbed me.
"Why are you running?! He knows you and Elodie are here—if you leave with Elodie now, that's when we'll really be exposed!"
I stopped, coming to my senses: "Right, right, I can't leave, and neither can Elodie... But what about Rowan and Callum?"
Clara opened the door to peek out, her face turning pale, then quickly closed it again: "Too late, he's already coming!"
I looked at the three wide-eyed children, not even sure what expression was on my own face.
Since we couldn't run, we could only—hide.
I pulled the children to hide in the side room, while Clara quickly cleared away the extra two sets of bowls and chopsticks.
Just as she finished, the door was pushed open.
The waiter led Arnold in.
End of Left at the Altar with His Triplets: The Billionaire Begs for Forgiveness Chapter 71. Continue reading Chapter 72 or return to Left at the Altar with His Triplets: The Billionaire Begs for Forgiveness book page.