His Belated Love for the Abandoned Ex-Wife Chapter 245: Familiar Taste

The door clicked shut, and in that brief moment before it fully closed, the look in Julian's eyes shifted, the warmth fading into something quieter, something that lingered as he stood there a second too long before finally walking away.

Inside, Iris stayed where she was, her back resting lightly against the door, the insulated container held in both hands. She didn't move right away, listening to the sound of his footsteps receding down the hallway, and only when they disappeared completely did she let out a slow, steady breath, as if she had been holding it in the entire time.

She lowered her gaze and opened the container.

The aroma rose instantly, rich and layered, seafood and chicken blending with the soft, comforting scent of rice dumplings. It hit her harder than she expected, stirring a sudden wave of hunger that had become all too familiar lately. Ever since the pregnancy, her appetite had been unpredictable, cravings showing up without warning and refusing to be ignored.

She carried the container to the table and opened it fully, taking in the sight of it. Everything arranged with care, everything unmistakably his.

She sat down, served herself a bowl, and took a bite.

The flavor settled slowly, savory, slightly sweet, warm in a way that felt deeply familiar. It wasn't just good, it was recognizable, like something tied to memory rather than taste alone.

She lowered her eyes, chewing quietly, her thoughts drifting without direction.

Julian had made this for her more times than she could count, and every time it got better, but the core of it never changed. That same steady flavor, that same quiet consistency, like him.

She didn't know why that thought made her chest feel tight.

By the time she finished eating, the feeling had settled into something heavier, harder to define. She packed the rest away carefully, placed it in the fridge, then grabbed her bag and left for work.

Work gave her structure, something solid to focus on, and once she got into it, everything else faded into the background. She stayed immersed the entire day, not once reaching for her phone.

It wasn't until she left in the evening, the sky already dimming, that she finally checked it.

Three messages from Julian.

The first came early in the afternoon.

"Iris, boarding now. Phone's off for a couple hours."

The second followed a while later.

"Just landed. Heading to the hotel."

And the last one had come ten minutes ago.

"Iris, what are you up to? Off work yet? What are you having for dinner?"

Iris stood still, reading them again without realizing it, her grip tightening slightly around her phone.

She had been clear with him, more than once, but Julian never fully stepped away. He gave her space when she pushed him, but only temporarily, and then he would come back again, steady and persistent, like nothing had changed.

That was exactly why she couldn't respond.

Any reply would blur the line she was trying to keep.

So she locked her screen and slipped the phone back into her bag, choosing silence.

"Iris, could you help me with something?" Nolan approached quickly, a file in hand, his expression tense and distracted.

She stood immediately. "Of course, what do you need?"

"I've been handling a collaboration with Aurelium Group, and this file needs to be delivered to Mr. Whitmore," he said, passing it to her. "I just got a call, my mom fell at home and she's at the hospital. I need to go right now. Could you take this for me?"

"Of course," Iris replied without hesitation, taking the file.

"There's a number inside, call ahead before you go," Nolan added, already moving toward the door. "Thank you."

He didn't wait for anything else before hurrying out.

Iris opened the file briefly, scanning the contents. It was detailed research data for their latest pharmaceutical project, sensitive and clearly important, which explained why Nolan had asked her personally.

She packed up, grabbed the file, and called the number as she headed out.

The call connected quickly.

"Hello?" a deep, steady voice answered.

"Hello, Mr. Whitmore. I'm calling from State Research Institute. I'd like to arrange a time to deliver some research materials—"

"Just bring it over," he interrupted. "I'm at Verdant Club, Room 101."

"Alright," Iris said.

The call ended immediately.

She paused for a second, then searched the location and realized it was a private club, upscale and exclusive. For a brief moment, she hesitated, but thinking of Brandon's calm and composed demeanor, she assumed his father wouldn't be too different.

That was enough to make her move.

The moment she stepped inside, she felt the shift in atmosphere. The space was polished and luxurious without being excessive, the kind of place that signaled status without needing to say it out loud. A staff member guided her down a long hallway and stopped outside Room 101 before opening the door for her.

Inside, a large round table was filled with food and expensive drinks. Six men sat around it, relaxed and mid-conversation, a few of them already flushed from alcohol.

Iris paused briefly at the entrance, taking in the scene. She had been in a similar setting once before with Julian, but being here alone felt different, less controlled, less predictable.

She stepped forward, scanning the room until a man in a crisp white shirt, composed and refined, gestured toward her.

"You're from State Research Institute? Here with the documents?"

Iris nodded. "Yes. Are you Mr. Whitmore?"

"I am. Let me see."

She walked over and handed him the file. He opened it immediately, his attention shifting fully to the contents.

Around the table, the other men began to look at her, their gazes lingering longer than necessary, carrying a kind of casual scrutiny that made her uncomfortable.

One of them leaned back with a smirk. "Didn't expect State Research Institute to send someone like you. Thought it was all older professors. How old are you?"

The tone alone made her uneasy.

Before she could respond, Cayden Whitmore's expression hardened, and he looked directly at the man. "She's a researcher, not someone you hired for entertainment. Watch your mouth."

The shift was immediate.

The man straightened, embarrassment replacing his earlier attitude. "Sorry, Mr. Whitmore. That was out of line."

He turned to Iris, his tone noticeably more respectful. "Sorry about that."

Iris didn't respond, choosing not to engage, and instead turned back to Cayden. "If there's nothing else, I'll head out."