His voice was cold, but Nora Ainsworth felt a sense of comfort.
As the night grew late, she fell into a deep sleep.
In contrast, the night at the Ainsworth family home was chillingly quiet.
Sharon Ainsworth stumbled home, drunk. Mr. Ainsworth frowned, pacing back and forth with his hands clasped behind him. "Watch the door tomorrow! Don't let her leave the house! This can't go on! What a disgrace!"
Nicholas Ainsworth sat on the sofa, fingers flying across his keyboard, completely ignoring the scene. It was no exaggeration to say he wore a perfect poker face, utterly devoid of expression.
Hearing her father's words, Sharon, in her drunken stupor, shook off the housekeeper's supporting hand. "Dad, why did this happen? I was about to get married! Why would fate play such a cruel joke on me and make Quentin think I'm a jinx? It's not true!"
