Chapter 280: Chapter 280: Not Even a Chance to Say Goodbye
Once Mrs. Quincy was gone, Claire Sinclair left the house.
She then went to the supermarket in her neighborhood, purchasing a heap of ingredients and fruit.
Her shopping cart filled to the brim, Claire Sinclair walked toward the checkout counter, satisfied.
The checkout line was long at this time of day. With five or six people still in front of her, she had to wait patiently.
After waiting for a good while, a familiar voice suddenly called out from behind her, "Claire Sinclair."
Claire Sinclair turned around instinctively. There stood Ethan Kingsley behind her, holding a bottle of soy sauce. Dressed in a blue t-shirt and casual pants, he looked every bit the homebody—a style completely different from his usual suit and tie, lending him a sunnier disposition.
Although the man was handsome, Claire Sinclair had a deep-seated dislike for him. Nevertheless, she remained polite and gave him a nod.
Ethan Kingsley smiled and said, "Buying so much food again. You must live nearby, right?"
Claire Sinclair replied coolly, "That doesn’t have anything to do with you, does it?"
"Haha..." Ethan Kingsley laughed aloud. "Alright, I won’t ask. But I still have to tell you—remember to update your novel on schedule. Otherwise, I’ll have to shell out for tips to push for more Chapters."
At his words, something suddenly clicked for Claire Sinclair.
’The ridiculously wealthy fan who’d been tipping her like crazy... it had to be this guy!’
"You don’t even read my novel. Why are you tipping me?"
"Who says I don’t read it? I follow every single Chapter you post. The reader with the highest fan score? That’s me. The ones below that are all my guys."
"..." ’A grown man reading romance novels. It felt so out of place.’
’This must be what they mean by "more money than sense."’
Claire Sinclair was silent for a long while, not knowing what to say. She wanted to tell him to stop tipping, but that was his own decision to make. She had no right to interfere. And she couldn’t possibly tell him to stop reading, either—a novel posted online was meant for public consumption.
After thinking it over, she decided to just drop it. They had nothing to talk about, so she pulled out her phone and pretended to be answering a message.
Ethan Kingsley was about a head taller than her, so by lowering his gaze slightly, he could see her phone screen.
The pinned chat window prominently displayed the name: Adrian Quincy.
A few minutes earlier, Adrian Quincy had sent her a message: I can’t make it over tonight, I have things to take care of. Make something for yourself to eat.
A flicker of disappointment crossed Claire Sinclair’s eyes. She replied: Okay.
Seeing this, a devious smile played on Ethan Kingsley’s lips.
’Looks like things are progressing smoothly between Adrian Quincy and this woman...’
’They say even the greatest heroes are helpless against a beautiful woman. He’d love to see how Adrian Quincy navigates the challenge that is Claire Sinclair.’
...
Ever since the failed divorce, Claire Sinclair’s life had returned to its previous rhythm. She spent her days dashing around the city, chasing news wherever a story broke.
Once she got busy, Claire would often lose all track of time. She’d occasionally even forget about him, and it wouldn’t feel strange if they went two or three days without seeing each other.
This went on until the seventh day, when a piece of news broke—Noval had been hit by a once-in-a-century torrential downpour, triggering widespread flooding and mudslides. Millions of people were affected, and there were casualties.
On the same day the news broke, Adrian Quincy gave Claire Sinclair a call.
"Claire, I’m leading a team to Mount Garlan for the disaster relief effort. I might be gone for half a month. Take good care of yourself at home. No overtime, no all-nighters. Wait for me to come back."
His call was more like a voicemail; he gave her no chance to ask questions before hanging up.
She remembered the last time he had left for a mission, departing in the dead of night with the same urgency. She could picture it clearly: he must have been packing as he spoke to her on the phone just now.
’Not even a chance to say goodbye...’
