Chapter 4

Mrs. Thompson asked gently, "Don't you usually not like honey mustard?" "Really?" Elaine glanced at the roasted chicken she'd just demolished more than half of. In her memory, Audrey had always preferred clean, minimal flavors. But Audrey was Audrey—and she was herself. And she was all about bold flavors and hearty meals. Acting all casual as she held her plate, Elaine replied, "I think it tastes great." Mrs. Thompson nodded politely. "You always preferred lighter dishes before. I only made this one because Mr. Sinclair came home today—it's one of his favorites." Elaine gave a couple of exaggerated coughs and said, "Don't worry about me. Just cook whatever Mr. Sinclair likes—roasts, seafood, bring it all on." Marcus: "..." Mrs. Thompson nearly told her that Mr. Sinclair wasn't really big on meat, but she held her tongue and replied stiffly, "Understood..." Everyone noticed Elaine's odd behavior these past couple days—especially Marcus. He even pulled Mrs. Thompson aside into his study to ask about what had happened at the hospital. She told him everything, but nothing she said helped clear up his confusion. After mulling it over, Marcus pulled out his phone and called Henry Bennett. As soon as it connected, he cut right to the chase, "Starting tomorrow, I want someone tailing Audrey 24/7." "Sir, the missus..." Henry could sense a strange vibe coming from Audrey. Marcus didn't bother arguing, "Just do what I said." "...Understood." Henry didn't dare question him again. The next morning, Elaine dragged herself out of bed. She used to be all about sleeping in—never up before ten. That habit came straight from her dear mentor, who also happened to have trained her into a top-tier hacker. But things were different now. Until she got Valtros Group back, lazy mornings were off the table. Downstairs was quiet. The maids were cleaning up the breakfast plates. When they saw her, they greeted politely, "Good morning, ma'am." "Morning," Elaine replied with a bright smile. They looked a little shocked. Mrs. Thompson must've heard her coming—she walked out from the kitchen with a breakfast tray. "Ma'am, come eat!" "Where's Mr. Sinclair?" Elaine asked casually. "He just left for the office." Elaine nodded. Good—he wasn't home. Then she followed up, "Mrs. Thompson, do we have a car?" "Yes, ma'am. If you've got somewhere to go, I'll have the driver get it ready." "No need!" Elaine turned her down right away. "I can drive myself." Mrs. Thompson stared at her in disbelief. "You're driving? Yourself?" "Mhm," Elaine nodded firmly. Mrs. Thompson's eyes widened even more. "But weren't you... not able to drive? And you don't have a license either." "I do." Elaine said it with full confidence. Then she realized she might've said too much, and quickly added, "I got my license before the wedding. Didn't I tell you?" "No..." Mrs. Thompson looked totally blank. The more you talk, the more mistakes you make—totally true. Elaine quickly changed the subject, "Where's the car parked? I'll just go get it myself." Still worried, Mrs. Thompson asked again, "Are you sure you're okay to drive?" "Totally. Relax." Elaine patted her chest like a promise.