Chapter 140: Arthur’s Growing Obsession?
Mrs. Harriet stepped into Richard’s office without knocking, the way she always did, and Arthur watched the exchange from the hallway through the half-open door, unable to make out the words but catching enough of the shape of it to know something felt off.
He couldn’t place exactly what. Just a feeling, vague and persistent. He didn’t dwell on it long. There was nothing actionable in a feeling, and he had more pressing things occupying his mind than whatever brief exchange was happening behind that door.
What he did notice, more clearly than he wanted to admit, was Richard’s face the moment she walked in.
Richard’s eyes were dull most days. Flat, unreadable, the kind of expression that gave nothing away to anyone in the room regardless of what was actually happening behind them. Arthur had grown up watching that same expression across a lifetime of interactions, had learned to read the smaller signals underneath it because the eyes themselves never offered anything.
But for a moment, just as Mrs. Harriet stepped through the door, something shifted. A flicker. Brief, almost imperceptible, gone as quickly as it appeared, but Arthur had caught it regardless — something close to actual light behind his brother’s eyes, the kind Arthur couldn’t remember seeing directed at anyone in years.
He filed it away and told himself it was nothing. Overthinking, probably. He’d been on edge lately, watching too closely for patterns that might not actually exist, reading significance into things that were likely just ordinary. He had bigger threads to track than a passing look between husband and wife.
A few minutes later, Mrs. Harriet exited the office, Richard following close behind her, already reaching for his jacket.
Arthur assumed, naturally, that his brother was heading to the secondary location — the meeting they’d discussed earlier, the one requiring both of them present. He straightened, ready to follow.
"Arthur." Richard’s voice stopped him before he’d taken a full step. "Stay here. Oversee things. There’s a chance we get another client through today."
Arthur blinked. "Another client? We don’t have anything scheduled."
"Doesn’t mean one won’t walk in."
Arthur wanted to point out how absurd that actually was — clients of the caliber they dealt with didn’t simply walk in unannounced. They booked months in advance, worked through layers of scheduling and vetting before ever setting foot in the building. Anyone who showed up today without a reservation would be exactly the kind of small, disposable account that could sit and wait, or be turned away entirely, without consequence to the firm.
Which meant, once again, Richard was handing him the scraps. The dog work. The waiting room duty dressed up as a legitimate responsibility, while the real business — whatever Richard actually considered important enough to attend personally — happened somewhere Arthur wasn’t invited.
"Understood," Arthur said, keeping his voice level, giving nothing away.
Mrs. Harriet glanced at him as she passed, and something in her expression made his jaw tighten instantly. A smile, faint, curling at the edge of her mouth, disguised well enough that anyone glancing casually would read it as polite. Arthur read it differently. Mockery, thinly veiled, the kind of look that told him she knew exactly what he’d been trying to do — the digging, the surveillance, the slow, careful construction of a case against her — and that she found it, at this stage, more entertaining than threatening.
She’d been winning every round so far. Every attempt Arthur made to pin down proof solid enough to bring to Richard had come up short, slipping through his fingers at the last moment like she was always one calculated step ahead of whatever he tried.
He watched them walk out together, Richard’s hand briefly finding the small of her back as they moved toward the elevator, a gesture so small most people wouldn’t have registered it at all.
Arthur registered it.
He stood there a moment longer after the elevator doors closed, jaw still tight, turning the entire exchange over in his mind — the spark in Richard’s eyes, the mocking curve of her smile, the casual dismissal disguised as a task. None of it added up to anything he could act on yet.
But it was building. Slowly, piece by piece, and Arthur had never once believed patience was a weakness.
-
Sara sat curled up on her private balcony, phone resting on her knee, the message she’d sent to Liam still sitting there unanswered. No typing bubble. No read receipt she could actually confirm. Just silence, stretching longer than she was used to tolerating from him.
A slow smirk crept across her face regardless.
She’d expected some kind of response by now — a curt one, maybe, something clipped and cold to match the way things had ended between them. But nothing at all felt almost more interesting. Either he genuinely hadn’t seen it yet, buried under whatever chaos currently occupied his life, or he had seen it and was choosing, deliberately, not to respond.
If it was the second option, that told her something valuable. It meant he’d actually built up some resistance, some new discipline he hadn’t possessed before, back when a single text from her could unravel his entire evening.
She found that almost impressive. Almost.
She glanced at the time on her phone, calculating how long it laid there, and decided it didn’t particularly matter whether he answered tonight or not.
She wasn’t checking his social media the way some pathetic, insecure ladies might have. She didn’t need to track his location through a story or guess which restaurant he’d been seen at.
She already knew where he lived.
That was the advantage most people chasing a man like Liam simply didn’t have — actual, physical access, unearned and unremoved, a spare key still sitting quietly in the bottom of her bag exactly where she’d left it months ago.
He’d never asked for it back.
Whether that was an oversight on his part or something else entirely, she hadn’t decided yet, but either way, it remained hers to use.
And Sara knew exactly the kind of surprises Liam liked.
She set the phone down, a slow, deliberate smile settling into place, already turning the idea over with the patience of someone who never rushed toward what she wanted.