Chapter 133 Martin Tracks Patricia.
With her back to the door, Patricia was oblivious to Martin listening eagerly. She talked on the phone while heading upstairs.
Something said on the other end of the call left her beaming, "It's not that I haven't contacted you; it's just that too many events have recently prevented me from doing so," she said.
Already fuming, Martin overheard Patricia's next words, "Dinner? Sure, when?"
Martin longed to hear more, but the sounds ceased. Turning around, Patricia had vanished. He hesitated, then decided to follow her upstairs and press his ear to the door, trying to eavesdrop.
Unfortunately, despite how close he got, he heard nothing.
Regretting his earlier decision, Martin thought he shouldn’t have soundproofed the doors so well—now his own defenses were working against him.
After several unsuccessful tries, Martin gave up, suppressing the urge to kick the door and left with jealousy burning within.
Completely unaware of Martin's eavesdropping, Patricia ended the call with Hunter having set a time and place to meet. With Madam Thomas's issue resolved and Randy's surgery behind her, Patricia’s nerves finally relaxed, and she indulged in a long bath and peaceful sleep. Martin stayed with Randy at the hospital all night and didn't return home.
The next day, Patricia rested at home, not visiting the hospital. She didn't expect Martin to stay with Randy all day, but coming downstairs for breakfast, she found him already sitting at the dining table waiting.
Seeing Martin, Patricia paused for a brief moment.
"Why... why have you come back? Shouldn't you be with Randy at the hospital?" Patricia asked in a tone that conveyed her concern.
With a straight face, Martin lied, "Randy said he didn't want me there and sent me back."
Patricia didn't doubt his words; she simply nodded, and sat down beside him,
"Since Randy doesn't need you there, you might as well head to the company. You haven't been there for several days; many things must be waiting for you."
Her suggestion, however, doubled as an accusation to Martin's ears.
"What? Are you doing something guilty and afraid I'll find out, so you're rushing me to the office?" he added mentally, anticipating a meeting with Hunter.
"...??" Patricia, catching the insinuation, rolled her eyes speechlessly, "Tell me, what guilty things have I done?"
Turning away, Martin sourly retorted, "As if you’d tell me about your guilty conscience."
"…??” Indignant, Patricia got up to question him, but her phone interrupted her: 'I'll come back to this: "I'll come back to this."
Answering the phone next to her on the table, she changed expression upon seeing the number. Although she didn't save it, she knew it well—the Langley family's numbers were etched in her memory.
Hearing the ring, Martin assumed it was Hunter and craned his neck to look. Confronted with the caller ID and mixed emotions, Patricia stepped onto the balcony with the phone.
"...??" Agitated by her avoidance, Martin followed stealthily, listening from behind the curtains.
On the balcony, Patricia answered, "Hello…"
The authoritative voice of Samuel came from the other end, "I gave you a week to think, it's time now. What's your decision?"
Patricia replied calmly, "My answer was clear from the beginning; it won't change no matter how much time you give me."
Unsurprised, Samuel insisted on a meeting, "Let's meet. I'm currently at Old Times Tea Restaurant in private room 108."
Patricia hesitated, attempting to refuse, but Samuel interjected sharply,
"You should come, or I'll take measures. Though Martin now controls the Langley Group, as his father, I'm still in charge of the Langley family."
The uncompromising words left Patricia clutching the balcony's rail, fingers paling from the grip, just managing to utter in agreement, "Okay."
"I'll wait. Don't be late!" With that, Samuel hung up, leaving Patricia overlooking the vista with a suffocating, ominous premonition.
Martin, having learned little from listening, moved back to the couch, laptop ready, and feigned deep focus. Pushing away the unsettling feeling, Patricia turned back inside,
"I need to step out for a bit," she said directly.
"Where to?" Martin pressed, a tightness in his chest forming.
"Personal matters!" Patricia glanced sharply at him, left the two words hanging, and headed out.
Watching her depart, Martin's handsome face clouded with anger, impulsively grabbing car keys and following her—stooping to something he despised, something he never imagined himself doing: Tracking her.
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