Let Me Go, Mr. Howard Chapter 65

Paul quickly excused himself and left.

Scarlett returned to the car with her document folder, overwhelmed with frustration. 

As she drove away, she caught a glimpse of Sebastian and Edith arriving arm in arm at the entrance. She allowed herself only one brief glance before looking away.

The sports car followed the riverside road before turning onto a side path that disappeared into the wooded hillside. Eventually, it stopped in front of a secluded villa.

Scarlett stepped out with her folder and pressed the doorbell. The sound echoed throughout the entire building. She looked up at the wind chimes hanging by the entrance, her eyes darkening.

The door opened.

"Who is it?" came a gentle voice.

Scarlett tore her gaze from the wind chimes. "Hello, Libbie."

Seeing Scarlett, Libbie's face registered surprise. "Ms. Seymour! It's been so long. How have you been? Come in, come in!"

"I'm fine." Scarlett stepped inside, following Libbie. "I'm here to see him. Could you let him know I'm here?"

"Mr. Howard has an engagement tonight. Hard to say if he'll return." Libbie smiled, guiding Scarlett to the sofa. "Have you eaten? I can make you something."

---

At the gala, Sebastian wasn't carrying his phone. Beside him stood Edith in a custom haute couture evening gown—George's selection.

Edith stayed close behind Sebastian. After the previous incident, she was careful not to speak out of turn in public, fully committed to projecting the image of a gentle, considerate socialite.

People occasionally approached them for conversation, but Sebastian responded with minimal engagement—disinterested yet faultless in his manners.

"Seb, are you unhappy?" Edith noticed his distraction and asked softly once they were alone.

Sebastian finished his champagne and glanced at her. "No."

Edith pouted, about to become playfully petulant when someone approached.

It was Paul from the project department. Seeing Sebastian, he immediately nodded with a smile. "Mr. Howard."

After this greeting, he looked at Edith, giving her a once-over. "Ms. Seymour."

His tone was equally respectful, clearly aware of her identity.

Edith was feeling pleased until Sebastian led Paul aside. She started to follow, but Sebastian said, "Go chat with the Myers family's daughter."

Even knowing she was being deliberately sent away, Edith couldn't protest. She could only smile and say, "All right."

Once Edith was out of earshot, Paul spoke.

"Ms. Seymour approached me."

Both men knew which Ms. Seymour he meant.

Sebastian nodded. "Where is she?"

Paul recalled Scarlett's casual attire and shook his head. "She probably didn't come in. She was dressed casually—we met in the parking lot."

Sebastian's expression remained unchanged. "I see."

"Oh, and Mr. Rogers asked me to pass along a message—something about activity at the wind chimes." Paul had nearly forgotten and quickly turned back.

At these words, a brief smile crossed Sebastian's face before vanishing. "Understood."

Paul nodded and departed, wondering what "wind chimes" referred to. Assuming it was a project codename, he didn't dare speculate further.

Few people knew about Sebastian's private villa nestled in the woods. The property was quite old, reportedly renovated six years ago at a cost of several million dollars—far exceeding its market value. 

Without some special significance, it was difficult to imagine why Sebastian would value this place so highly.

Since their agreement took effect five years ago, Scarlett had been a frequent visitor. She and Sebastian lived there like newlyweds, though Scarlett rarely stayed overnight, unable to find a convincing excuse for the Seymour family. 

Although they didn't particularly care about her whereabouts, whenever she didn't return home, both she and her mother faced humiliation. Not wanting to hear her mother degraded, Scarlett rarely stayed out overnight.

However, since news of Sebastian's engagement had spread, Scarlett had stopped coming altogether. 

The villa's only year-round resident was Libbie, the kind housekeeper currently busy in the kitchen.

Scarlett curled up on the sofa watching television. Soon, the aroma of fish soup wafted through the air. She inhaled deeply—she didn't like eating fish but loved Libbie's fish soup. Yet today, the savory smell made her stomach turn, and she felt nauseous.

She retched once.

Fortunately, with little food in her stomach, nothing came up despite the dry heave.

"What's wrong?" Libbie called from the kitchen.

Scarlett took a sip of water to settle her nausea. "Nothing."

The meal was ready quickly. Since Scarlett was dining alone, Libbie hadn't prepared much, but everything was Scarlett's favorite: fish soup, roasted salmon, grilled asparagus, and a small bowl of mashed potatoes.

"I didn't make bread—knew you couldn't eat that much," Libbie said with a smile as she set down the last dish.

Scarlett smiled back. "You know me so well, Libbie."

She reached for the mashed potatoes first. They smelled as delicious as always, but as soon as she took a bite, nausea struck again.

She retched once more.

This time Libbie's expression changed. She put down her phone, where she'd been sending a message. "What's going on? Are you sick?"

Scarlett set down her potatoes and let Libbie feel her forehead.

"No fever," Libbie said with suspicion, studying Scarlett's face. Her expression suddenly shifted. "Ms. Seymour, you're not pregnant, are you?"

Libbie wasn't kept in the dark about Sebastian and Scarlett's relationship. Coming from a background of service in wealthy households, she was accustomed to such arrangements. 

She also clearly understood what hardships Scarlett would face if she were indeed pregnant.

Scarlett's face paled.

She thought back over recent weeks. She had taken her contraceptive a week ago, and before that... she was sure she'd been consistent.

But as she thought more, Scarlett became uncertain. She checked her phone for her menstrual cycle tracker—she was three days late.

In an instant, Scarlett broke into a cold sweat.

"Ms. Seymour, don't be afraid," Libbie comforted her, and Scarlett suddenly realized her hands had begun to shake.

She took a deep breath, her voice steady. "No, I'm not afraid."

But despite her words, her hand in Libbie's grasp was ice-cold and damp with sweat.