Blizzard, First Love and a Wife Who Finally Snaps novel Chapter 83

Dylan scoffed. “People who are blindly overconfident always end up being destroyed by their own self-assurance.”

The Carter Hotel was some distance from the lab. But at this hour, it seemed many people had attended old Mrs. Blackwell’s birthday party, because even the elevated highway was clear. The only delays were the frequent red lights, forcing them to stop and go.

Isabel was lost in thought. She knew Selena fairly well, having been good friends with her for a time. But she couldn’t make sense of Selena’s behavior today. Did she genuinely not want her and Adrian to divorce, or was she plotting something else?

“Has she made any breakthroughs with Y-2?”

Dylan adjusted his seat to its absolute limit, shifting uncomfortably. “Are you seriously asking me to be a corporate spy?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Isabel, have you been out of the lab for so long that you’ve forgotten the rules about confidentiality?”

Even within the same research building, different labs worked on different projects. While there were opportunities for communication and collaboration, much of the work was highly classified. Not even the closest of friends could share such details.

Isabel smiled. “You really have old Mr. Foster’s demeanor. You’ve got the makings of a great leader, so forward-thinking.”

“Don’t try to flatter me,” Dylan said, his tone turning serious. “You’re on your own, and your right hand is injured. I still can’t figure out how you managed to create Y-2. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

Isabel threw his own words back at him. “That’s confidential, junior.”

“...”

*

Spring in Westbridge was short. It felt like you went from wearing a winter coat one day to short sleeves the next.

At Isabel’s final check-up for her right hand, Dr. Lawson said, “It seems to be healing well. Have you tried holding a test tube?”

After her grandmother passed away, she rarely saw him. The last time was at her mother’s funeral. She wasn’t sure if the number he had given her would still work.

“Isabel.”

She had been preparing for the call not to go through, but he answered.

“Old Mr. Reed.”

“Ah, yes. Is there something you need?”

“If it’s convenient for you,” Isabel said, “I’d like to see you.”

Old Mr. Reed gave her an address. It was her grandmother’s old cottage in the countryside. She had tried to get the deed to the cottage back then, but she heard it had already been sold for a high price. At the time, she had little money; her father wouldn't help, her mother was sick, and the constant fighting at home had left no peace.