Page 202 of This Woman Forever

“Going to try a normal relationship?”

“Normal?” he asks, and I smile. “What the fuck is normal? We’re going to try a relationship with no sex manor.”

“Good for you,” I murmur, looking up at the stained-glass window again. The heartbeat’s getting duller.

“But for the sake of old times.” Sam grins at me. “Mind if we have one more play?”

“Keep it between the two of you.”

“Of course. It’s like a farewell thing,” he says wistfully, eyes back on The Manor in the distance. “She’s been a part of my life forever.”

“Yeah,” I whisper, studying her. Imposing. Magnificent. Full of pleasure-filled promises.

And tragedy.

I feel like I’m subconsciously trying to come to terms with the end of an era. Is that what this odd feeling I have is? Or just the aftermath of seeing my mum? Or both?

“How was your break?” Sam asks.

I breathe in and exhale, finishing my coffee. “Nice while it lasted.”

“Well, welcome home. I’ll catch you later.” Sam races off, and I carry on walking, finding the picture of the twins again. My eyes remain on the little undistinguishable blobs all the way back to my office.

I walk in and find Cook and John on a couch each. “It wasn’t Van Der Haus who drugged Ava.” Cook gets straight to business, stalling my arse midway to the couch opposite him. I look at John. He’s removed his shades for this meeting. “He also didn’t steal your car.”

“Right,” I say slowly, lowering to the couch next to John, hoping Cook’s going to give me more than his baseless conclusions. He tosses some papers on the table between us. “What are they?” I ask, leaving them where they are.

“Passenger records for flights from Heathrow to Copenhagen in the past few months.”

“You’re going to tell me he was in Denmark on both occasions, aren’t you?” I scrub a hand down my face, breathing out my frustration. Cook doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. “Fuck.”

“I started a deeper dive into his finances before I had it confirmed he was out of the country, therefore out of the frame.”

“And?”

“And I found out his credit records have been looked into recently, along with his business accounts. Requests to Companies House being made, things like that.”

“Who’s looking into his finances?” John asks. “And why?”

“The who is easy.” Cook pulls his phone out and shows me the screen. “Haskett and Sandler. They’re specialists and advisors in selling small to medium-sized businesses. The why?” He shakes his head, putting his phone away. “I’m working on the why.”

“Is he selling up?” And fucking off back to Denmark, because that would be perfect?

“No, it looks like he’s buying.”

“Buying what?”

“That goes with the why, Ward. I don’t know.”

I huff, sinking back into my seat, thinking.

“So, if it wasn’t him in the bar, or who stole your car,” Cook says. “Surely you can forget about Van Der Haus.”

“He still wants my wife.” My voice is low, a bit like my mood. I mean, yes, it would have been convenient if it was Van Der Haus, but I think I knew deep down that he’s not capable. So the question remains—who is?

Cook nods slowly, thoughtful. “Because you and Freja?—”

“Yes.”