My coldhearted ex demands a remarriage - Chapter 272

Chapter 272:

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“Fool! Who said he’d be making a living from playing the piano? You’ve been using that pitiful excuse for logic all these years? Is that why you’ve failed me over and over?”

The man flinched but didn’t move, taking the blow squarely. The cup shattered against his temple, sending shards scattering to the floor. Blood and coffee dripped down his face as he muttered something unintelligible, but his fear kept him from speaking clearly.

Daxton leaned back, his hands steepled under his chin as he contemplated his next move. “Check every household that owns a piano! Dig into families who’ve purchased second-hand ones—find out exactly where they came from.”

The man’s face brightened with sudden inspiration. “Brilliant as always, Mr. Garcia!”

After a moment’s hesitation, he added tentatively, “The hotel recently diverted hot spring water from the mountains. Perhaps you’d like to stay and relax for a couple of days?”

Daxton hesitated, a melodious female voice ringing in his memory. Against his better judgment, he found himself agreeing. “Hmm.”

The man smiled. “I’ll have your private room prepared immediately!”

Daxton’s eyes flicked to the blood still trickling down the man’s face, and his expression twisted with disgust. “Clean yourself up. You’re an eyesore!”

The man acted as though he’d been absolved of all sins, bowing profusely as he retreated.

Left alone, Daxton pulled out his phone. He opened WhatsApp, his eyes hovering over the chat box for a long time. Then, he exited the app without typing a single word.

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Carrie strolled through the streets, lost in thought, noticing how many of the familiar old shops from her past had either moved, been renovated, or were now under new ownership. She had always dreamed of bringing Kristopher here—to walk the same streets she once did, see the familiar sights, and taste the foods that held a special place in her heart.

Such a simple wish had gone unfulfilled, despite two years of marriage. This time, with him by her side in Esterhall, she had hoped the trip might finally make it come true, offering a chance to make up for the regrets that had lingered in their relationship. But everything had shifted, even their relationship. Some changes were permanent, leaving nothing behind but regrets.

Without realizing it, she ended up at her old elementary school. The childhood snacks she remembered so fondly were no longer sold, a casualty of the rising prices. She picked up a few fried skewers and, noticing that the school bell would ring soon and the sun was beginning to set, she remembered her time in Foxfire and decided it was time to head home.

Carrie walked back into Gracie’s apartment, greeted by the mouthwatering aromas of various dishes drifting up from downstairs. Someone was clearly cooking something spicy, the sharp scent of chili cutting through the other fragrances. Feeling the pang of hunger herself, Carrie glanced at the fried skewers in her hand and considered whipping up some instant noodles to hold her over.

When she opened the door, the rich smell of food filled the air. To her surprise, Kristopher stepped out of the kitchen, his face flushed from the spicy fumes, coughing as he tried to catch his breath. Carrie paused in the doorway, unsure of what to make of the situation. She had assumed, after their heated argument, that he would have gone to stay at a hotel.

But here he was, not only home but cooking for her. Kristopher, still coughing, didn’t seem to notice her at all. He was wearing an old apron from the apartment, and oddly enough, it suited him, giving off a casual, effortlessly stylish vibe. Sometimes, it’s not the clothes that define the person; it’s the person who makes the clothes work. Without the white shirt underneath, the apron alone would have been an irresistible temptation in the kitchen.

After a moment, Kristopher managed to catch his breath and shot her a look of mild annoyance, his voice raspy. “Can you pass me a bottle of water?”

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