Chapter 615

Vincent let out a sharp, mocking laugh, the sound laced with disbelief, as though Hannah had just said something outrageously absurd. "At this hour, in this place, you just happen to bump into me? Come on,Hannah, that's hardly a coincidence."

Hannah observed the smug curve of his mouth, a flicker of amusement softening her expression. A laugh escaped her, though her eyes remained cool and detached. "Mr. Jones, let me make this clear-you are not the center of my world. I'm here for someone else entirely."

Vincent's expression hardened, the crease between his brows deepening.

Tilting her head slightly, her tone took on a teasing note. "What's wrong? Am I supposed to orbit around you?"

Her words threw Vincent off for a moment, but he quickly recovered, his smirk sharpening with ridicule."You cling to the memory of a dead man, yet you can't release me, your ex-husband. Hannah, you really know how to play your games, don't you?"

The venom in his voice struck like a lash, deliberate and unrelenting.

The faint, composed smile Hannah had worn faltered, her features darkening with wounded restraint."Vincent, that's enough. Don't twist this into something it's not. I came here for the same reason you did-to honor the deceased one."

Vincent's reply came clipped and cold. "Save the sentiment. We're divorced. You no longer need to pay respect to my dead father."

Her anger broke through her calm façade, heat flaring in her eyes. Without warning, she stepped forward,caught Vincent's wrist, and dragged him toward a nearby tombstone with sudden force.

Startled, Vincent stumbled after her, unprepared for the sudden movement.

She stopped before a weathered tombstone and pointed at the engraved inscription. "Read it, Vincent

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-'Raymond Scott's Grave!' This is my father's resting place. That's whyI'm here."

Vincent's gaze fell on the unfamiliar name, and every biting retort he had prepared dissolved on his tongue.

A silence thick with awkwardness settled between them.

After a few seconds, he awkwardly pulled his hand back, straightened his suit, and said nothing.He turned,ready to leave.

"Wait," Hannah called out softly.

Vincent didn't stop, his voice cutting back with icy distance. "If this is about that misunderstanding, I'm not offering an apology."

He simply wasn't one to apologize.

"Who asked for your apology?" Hannah's tone steadied, though something curious lingered beneath."1just wanted to ask-have you been going on blind dates lately?"

Vincent paused but didn't look back. His answer came flat, devoid of emotion. "Yes." Danica had been arranging a series of introductions with affluent daughters she deemed suitable matches. He'd found the meetings dull, but he'd gone along, more to placate his mother than from genuine interest-anything to draw a line between himself and Hannah once and for all.

"Anyone you actually like?" she asked, her fingers tightening slightly at her sides.

Turning at last, Vincent locked eyes with her, his gaze detached and distant. "That's not something an ex-wife should concern herself with."

Hannah's chest tightened, but she forced an airy smile. "Fine. Don't tell me. It's not like I care."

She figured that if he moved on and found someone else, so would she. They could walk separate paths,untethered, unbothered. She would seal away their shared past, never pestering him again.

But as she began to turn away, a quiet, low voice drifted from behind her. "No."

Hannah froze, surprised, and turned, only to find Vincent was already walking away, his figure distant

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against the gray expanse. Was that"no" in response to her question?

Vincent's stride quickened, as if eager to escape his own voice. Regret hit him instantly. He should have stayed silent, or better yet, left her standing there without another word. But the sight of her feigned indifference, her gaze lowered in brittle composure, had unsettled something deep inside him-a pulse of panic, sharp and inexplicable. It felt like if he didn't say something, he'd lose something irreplaceable. The thought clawed at him.

Agitated, Vincent strode briskly to his car, wrenched open the door, and slid in, his face carved in stormy tension.

From the driver's seat, Derek glanced nervously at Vincent through the rearview mirror and toward Hannah lingering by the cemetery gate."Mr. Jones," he ventured cautiously,′′aren't you leaving with Ms. Scott?"

Vincent's glare was swift and cutting. "Couldn't you just mind your own business?"

Derek shrank back but gestured toward the gate. "Mr. Jones, look-someone's bothering Ms. Scott."

Vincent's eyes followed his gesture immediately.

By the cemetery gate stood a man in a pressed suit, blocking her path with an overly eager smile. He reached for her arm, the gesture intrusive.

Hannah's face hardened with visible irritation as she pulled away.

Vincent's jaw tensed, his eyes darkening, every trace of composure vanishing. A chill radiated from him,dangerous and unreadable. "Who the hell is he?"