Chapter 644

When Hannah's eyes landed on the red, raw gashes marring Claude's wrist, a ripple of tenderness stirred within her chest-an echo from the days of scraped knees and laughter under sunlit trees. No matter how much she wanted to stay detached, that flicker of shared childhood made it impossible to walk away.

With a resigned sigh, she murmured, "I can spare ten minutes at most."

The gloom in Claude's face lifted instantly; joy flared in his eyes like the spark of a long-extinguished flame. "Ten minutes is plenty. There's a quiet caféjust down the street."

"Lead the way," she replied, her voice cool and measured.

They moved together down the narrow path toward the corner, their footsteps falling out of rhythm-Claude walking ahead with occasional backward glances, and Hannah keeping a careful distance to trail behind.

Across the road, beneath the wide shadow of an ancient tree, a sleek black Maybach stood parked in silence.

Inside, Vincent sat stone-still, the storm brewing behind his composed expression. His dark eyes were locked on Hannah's and Claude's departing figures until they vanished around the bend, leaving only a heavy stillness behind.

The air inside the car was thick enough to choke on.

Derek, watching the reflection of Vincent's face through the rearview mirror, hesitated before speaking. "Mr. Jones, should we follow them?"

Vincent's jaw tightened, the muscles flexing beneath his skin. His lips pressed into a hard line before he answered, voice clipped, "Back to the office."

"Yes, Mr. Jones." Derek didn't dare question Vincent.He started the engine, though his thoughts ran loose and mutinous. Vincent had abandoned a mountain of work to rush here, only to run into this... Ah, the situation between Vincent and Hannah was a tangled mess.

In Derek's mind, the solution was simple: if Vincent truly cared, he should have stepped out of the car,taken Hannah's hand, and asserted his dominance outright. But now-after the memory loss-Vincent's once-clear emotions were reduced to confusion and hesitation. The decisive man he'd been was gone,replaced by someone uncertain, fighting feelings he couldn't name.

As the Maybach pulled away from the courthouse,the traffic light ahead flicked to red, forcing the car to a stop. Derek's sharp eyes caught a familiar face on the curb-Lennon, hand raised, trying to hail a cab.

"Mr. Jones, Lennon is over there," Derek announced.Vincent's gaze shifted slightly, his voice low. "Pick him up."

"Understood." Derek eased the car to the side and rolled down the window to call out to Lennon.

Lennon blinked, surprised to see the luxury car. Still,he opened the door and slipped into the passenger seat. "Mr. Jones? What brings you here?"

Vincent ignored the question. "Did the case conclude smoothly?"

Lennon nodded. "Perfectly. The evidence was solid.Rodney received ten years for attempted rape and related offenses."

Vincent gave a curt nod. "Good."

Silence lingered-thick, uncomfortable.

Then, as though in passing, Vincent asked, "Did she...mention me?"

The question caught Lennon off guard. He instantly knew "she" meant Hannah. After a pause, he answered honestly, "No. Ms. Scott was focused on the case, completely immersed in the proceedings.

She didn't bring up anything personal." The moment the words left Lennon's mouth, Derek felt the temperature in the car drop several degrees.He was itchy to clamp a hand over Lennon's mouth.Lennon, the top attorney who could charm entire juries with his words, had unwittingly maddened Vincent by revealing the truth.

Vincent's face hardened, his eyes glinting with restrained emotion. He didn't reply-just turned toward the window, the city's reflections washing over his cold, chiseled profile.

Derek grumbled in his heart that Vincent's anger wasn't about the case or the day's events. It might be because he started to care for Hannah.

Sensing the sudden tension but confused by its trigger, Lennon shifted uneasily, fingers brushing his nose. He replayed his words in his head, trying to pinpoint which one had struck the wrong chord-but none seemed offensive. Inside the café, sunlight filtered through the tall windows, glinting off polished marble tables. Hannah sat stiffly across from Claude, ignoring the glass of juice he pushed toward her. Her tone was crisp,impatient. "Say what you came to say."

Claude's eyes lingered on her face-the same face that once smiled freely at him. A dull ache throbbed in his chest, but his voice remained calm. "Bonnie and I are getting married soon."

Her expression didn't shift an inch. The words washed over her like wind against stone. "Oh.Congratulations."

That hollow "congratulations" pierced deeper than any accusation. For a moment, Claude forgot how to breathe. She truly didn't care at all. He forced a crooked smile and rolled up his sleeves,revealing the raw, inflamed stripes along his arm. "Thank you. It's just... things at home have been rough lately."

Her brows drew together. The marks on his forearm looked brutal. "Your parents did that to you?" she asked, her tone softening just slightly despite herself. For all her irritation toward his persistence, her instinct to care refused to die.

Claude lowered his gaze. "They said it's part of the Hobbes family's... tradition. To inherit the family business, one must learn endurance-learn to give up what others cannot."

He let the lie slip easily between them, careful to keep his eyes downcast. The truth was far less noble.Those lashes were self-inflicted-his own desperate attempt to garner her sympathy. He knew her heart better than anyone. Hannah could turn away from love. But from pain-especially someone else's-she never could.