Chapter 133: Augustine’s possessiveness
Anne didn’t argue with him this time. She could see it now—his anger came from fear. "I’m sorry too... for making you worry. Next time, if something feels off, I’ll call you first."
That small promise loosened the tension in Augustine’s shoulders. He exhaled. Then a faint smile broke through, and he reached over, brushing his fingers softly against her cheek.
"You have no idea how scared I was when I heard something happened to you," he murmured. "I wanted to drop everything and just fly to you."
What he didn’t say was how he had run red lights, ignored every traffic rule in the book, just to get there faster.
Anne blinked, touched by his words. But then her expression shifted, suspicion creeping into her eyes.
"Wait... how did you know I was at the hotel? Who told you?" She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "Are you... keeping tabs on me?"
Augustine froze. A cold prickle ran down the back of his neck. Damn.
He hadn’t meant to say that much. He scrambled to recover.
"I—I-uh," he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I went to the hospital first, but you weren’t there. One of the nurses mentioned Lorie had picked you up, and she had heard her say something about the Grand Hotel."
He rushed to finish the story before she could question more. "I headed there, and as luck would have it, I ran into Patricia in the lobby. She told me you were upstairs... with a man."
Anne relaxed, her doubt slipping away. ’So that’s how he knew,’ she thought, her suspicions settling as quickly as they had risen.