Chapter 5

The guest room was at the end of the hall.

Shannon paused at the doorway, her fingers resting lightly against the frame before she stepped in.

It used to be a storage room now it was neat, cleaned and prepared.

A bed, fresh sheets and a wardrobe that looked barely used.

Shannon exhaled slowly and stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

For a moment, she just stood there.

The house was quiet. Once, it had been filled with soft music, the hum of late night work, Rowan’s voice drifting from one room to another as he called her name.

Now silence.

Shannon walked to the bed and sat down slowly.

Her body was still recovering, but it wasn’t her body that felt heavy. It was everything else.

Three months.

Three months of her life gone. And in those three months everything had changed.

Her gaze drifted toward the wardrobe. She stood and opened it, then she froze.

Her clothes.

Folded.

Organized.

Hanging neatly like they had always belonged there.

Shannon’s fingers trembled slightly as she reached out, brushing over one of her dresses.

This wasn’t the maid’s doing.

There was only one person who would have made sure everything was arranged this way.

Her chest tightened.

Shannon closed the wardrobe slowly.

Three months.

She repeated it again in her mind.

...............................

Dinner was at eight.

She made it at exactly eight, not a minute early, not a second late.

The dining room looked the same.

Long table, polished surface. Everything in its place, everything except them.

Rowan was already seated, Evelyn beside him.

Shannon’s steps slowed for just a second before she composed herself and walked in.

Rowan glanced up briefly. “Sit,”

Shannon nodded and took her seat across from him.

The space between them felt wide, like even distance had rules now.

A maid began serving the dishes. 

Shannon’s eyes flickered toward Rowan instinctively, old habit.

She noticed the way he reached for the water before touching his food.

The slight pause before he started eating.

He hadn’t changed. Not in the little things and that hurt more than anything else. Because it meant his body remembered even if his heart didn’t.

Shannon picked up her utensils. “Your meeting with the textile partners is tomorrow morning,” she said gently.

Rowan paused and looked up at her slightly surprised. “How do you know that?”

“I used to manage your schedule, so I reached out to the new secretary.” she replied calmly.

A small silence followed.

“You’ve worked with them before?”

She nodded. “Several times."

Another pause then.. “I designed the spring collection that secured that partnership,” she added quietly.

Rowan’s brows pulled together slightly. “That collection made the company a significant profit,”

Shannon gave a small nod. “Yes.”

“I didn’t know that was you,” Rowan said.

Shannon lowered her gaze briefly. “There’s a lot you don’t know right now.”

Rowan leaned back slightly, watching her. As if trying to place her somewhere in a puzzle he couldn’t fully see. “You’ll come with me tomorrow.”

Shannon looked up. For a second, she thought she misheard him. “…Tomorrow?” she asked softly.

“To the office,” Rowan clarified, already returning his attention to his plate. “It’ll be my first day back. I don’t like walking into things blind.”

Her fingers tightened slightly around her fork.

“I understand,” she said.

Before anything else could settle Evelyn let out a soft laugh.

“Oh,” she said lightly, tilting her head as she looked at Rowan. “I thought I was going with you tomorrow.”

Her tone was gentle but there was something beneath it.

Rowan didn’t hesitate. “You are.”

Evelyn smiled, satisfied, and reached for the serving spoon beside her. She carefully placed food into Rowan’s bowl with ease, her movements slow. As if she had done it countless times.

Rowan didn’t stop her instead he picked up another dish and placed some onto her plate in return.

“Eat,” he said almost absentminded but natural. Like it was habit.

Shannon’s hand stilled for just a second.

That used to be her place.

That used to be..

She forced herself to move again, lowering her gaze to her plate.

Evelyn glanced at her then and smiled.

“You’ll be busy tomorrow too,” her voice carrying across the table as she dabbed her lips with a napkin. “Since you’ve been managing his schedule all this time…” She paused. “It shouldn’t be hard to continue as his personal assistant right away right?”

Assistant.

Not wife.

Shannon’s grip tightened slightly beneath the table but when she looked up. “Yes,” she said. “I know what needs to be done.”

Rowan’s gaze flickered toward her again then he nodded once. “Good."

Tomorrow she wouldn’t just be in the house. She would be in his world again even if only as a shadow.

“Son.”

The voice cut through the room sharply.

All three of them turned.

Mrs. Whitmore stood at the entrance of the dining room, a travel bag in her hand, her expression already darkening the moment her eyes landed on Shannon.

“What is she doing here?”

No one answered immediately.

Evelyn straightened slightly.

Rowan didn’t react.

But Mrs. Whitmore didn’t wait. Her heels struck the floor as she walked in, each step precise until she reached the table. Then she moved fast.

Her hand shot forward, gripping Shannon’s arm before she could react.

The chair scraped violently against the floor.

“Get up,” she snapped.

Shannon’s body jerked slightly from the sudden force, her fingers instinctively gripping the edge of the table.

“I said get up!”

Mrs. Whitmore didn’t wait this time.

She yanked harder, dragging Shannon halfway out of her seat.

Pain shot up Shannon’s arm.

“Stop...” she gasped, trying to steady herself.

“Have you lost all sense of shame?” Mrs. Whitmore hissed. “You still dare to sit here? Eat at this table like you belong here?”

Evelyn stood quickly. “Auntie, maybe..”

But she didn’t finish.

Because Rowan had already stood. “Enough.”

The word wasn’t loud but it cut through the room like a blade.

Mrs. Whitmore froze so did Shannon.

Slowly Rowan stepped forward. His gaze landed on his mother’s hand gripping Shannon’s arm then lifted. “Let her go.”

For a second no one moved.

Mrs. Whitmore blinked, as if she hadn’t heard him correctly. “…What?”

“I said,” Rowan repeated, his tone even sharper this time, “let her go.”