Chapter 232
Trey’s voice was rough with fatigue as he glanced at the dinner tray. “I don’t want this.”
Angela paused. “What?”
“I want porridge.”
For a brief second, Angela thought she had misheard him.
In the past, whenever Trey was sick, he always avoided anything bland. It was Khloe who used to make porridge for him—different every time, sometimes light and savory, sometimes subtly sweet, always tailored to his mood without him ever asking.
And somehow, it was the only thing he actually finished.
Angela forced a calm tone. “You used to say you didn’t like porridge. I had the kitchen prepare all of this especially for you. Just try a little.”
“I said I have no appetite.”
Trey didn’t even look at her. He stood, pulled on his coat, and reached for his keys.
Angela stepped in front of the door.
“You’re not well. You should rest. Go tomorrow if it’s urgent.”
“I’m fine.”
He moved to pass her.
“Daddy!”
Pete suddenly ran in and grabbed his leg.
His small hands clung tightly as he looked up, eyes already wet. “Don’t go… I’ll be good. I’ll listen. I promise!”
The words came out rushed, panicked.
Yesterday’s punishment still lingered in his mind, but the fear of his father leaving was stronger than pride. He clung harder, as if letting go would mean losing something permanent.
Trey hesitated.
For a moment, his expression softened.
“Pete,” he said quietly, “be good. Daddy has work. Go to your mom.”
He gently peeled the child’s hands away.
Angela’s eyes widened slightly at that.
Trey still walked forward.
“Do you really not want this family anymore?” Angela’s voice cracked as she followed behind him. “You’ve never treated me like this before. Is it only when you can’t have something that you finally care?”
The servants lowered their heads, none daring to look.
“Trey.”
Arthur’s voice cut in from the staircase.
He had just returned and stopped mid-step, taking in the scene at once—Angela’s flushed eyes, Pete clinging to Trey, and Trey already halfway out the door.
“Where are you going this late?” Arthur asked, his tone controlled. “Angela said you had a headache. You’re not fully recovered yet.”
“I’m fine now,” Trey replied. “There’s work at the office. I lost a day and need to catch up.”
“One day won’t break the company,” Arthur said firmly. “But your health—and this household—matters more.”
There was a rare heaviness in his voice, as if he’d already spent the entire day managing worse problems elsewhere.
“I don’t want more chaos at home,” Arthur added. “Come to my study.”
Trey opened his mouth, then stopped.
A servant immediately moved to take his coat. Angela, sensing Arthur’s intervention, quickly stepped forward and took it herself, as if trying to steady the situation before it spiraled further.
Trey didn’t resist.
He followed Arthur upstairs.
—
By the time he left the study, the house had already fallen into deep night silence.
Trey stood outside the bedroom door for a long moment without moving.
Inside was Angela.
Inside was the life he had built.
But none of it felt familiar anymore.
The Fox Group was in a critical stage—once the Morrison Group deal was finalized, its IPO timeline would shorten dramatically. Everything was moving forward at a pace that should have excited him.
Yet all he could think about was how quiet the room felt when Khloe wasn’t there.