Chapter 77

Habit is a terrifying thing.

Usually, the moment Marguerite arrived at the villa gate, she would message George. He always replied instantly and would be there to open the gate within moments. This time, there was only silence, and Marguerite found it strange.

"The lights are all off. Maybe Mr. Spencer isn't home?" Theobald's voice came from beside her.

Only then did Marguerite look up at the villa. The massive house was dark, a silent beast looming in the night. She hadn't even thought to check for lights, just instinctively assumed someone would be home.

Rubbing her nose, Marguerite said, "I forgot George is a busy man too. He was with me at the Pinecrest game earlier but had to leave for a work thing."

Theobald realized he, too, had grown accustomed to Mr. Spencer being there to greet Marguerite every time he dropped her off. He knew from Marguerite that George's staff left at eight sharp every night, so he hadn't found it odd that George himself came to the door.

“Let's wait a bit, then. Mr. Spencer is probably in a meeting with his phone on silent." After all, Mr. Spencer wasn't like him he wasn't so lovesick that he'd refuse to silence his phone during a meeting for a girl. Besides, he didn't even like Marguerite.

Theobald opened the passenger door, his hand adorned with the prayer beads, and gestured for Marguerite to get in and wait.

Marguerite turned back toward the car. "I should have gotten a key made. I can't believe I never realized how much I was bothering him every day."

From the very first day, George had told her to message him when she got home, so the thought of getting her own key had completely slipped her mind.

But before she could reach the car, the lights at the villa gate suddenly switched on, illuminating the path before her. Her phone buzzed. It was a reply from George.

[Coming.]

Marguerite turned around just as the main gate opened from the inside. The handsome man was clearly out of breath his chest rising and falling. He stopped, adjusted his glasses with one finger, and his voice was raspy when he spoke. "I'm sorry, I fell asleep."

He was still wearing the same white sweatshirt from earlier. His soft hair was unstyled, giving him a refreshingly youthful look. Panting slightly, he looked like a boyfriend who had accidentally overslept for a date and had rushed over in a panic.

Marguerite smiled. "What's the rush? I don't mind waiting. I thought you weren't home."

The fact that George had run over and immediately apologized was unexpected to Theobald. Was this the same calm, composed, and unapproachable George?

Theobald's cold gaze shifted slightly as he rotated the prayer beads on his wrist. decided he should

retract his earlier thought that Met

Spencer didn't like Marguerite. He knew this feeling all too well this fear of making someone wait. It was just like when he had cleared out the mall for Hannah the day Marguerite

returned. He hadn't wanted Hannah to wait, so he had arrived extra early.

Realizing this, Theobald wasn't particularly surprised. Falling for his sister was as

natural as breathing. It was only human.

George's breathing steadied. He

looked at the girl through his glasses, his eyes filled with a sticky excitement. He had been home all day just hadn't expected the girl who had gone to see Joshuato come back so early. During the day, he could numb himself with work, but as night fell, his anxiety grew, and the urge to message her became unbearable. Yet he had no right or reason to.

So he had retreated to the secret room in his study. Only there could he delude

himself into believing that Stella was still by his side.