Sydney 17

Chapter 17 

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At the boarding gate, Sydney spotted Marcus immediately. He dressed casually but looked crisp and clean, with a tall, graceful build and strikingly handsome features. He was scanning the crowd too, and their eyes met at just the right moment. 

Even after all these years, Marcus still looked briefly stunned at the sight of Sydney’s bare, 

makeup–free face. He quickly crossed the space between them and took her backpack. Then 

his gaze swept over her delicate, palm–sized face once more. 

His physician’s instincts kicked in as he asked, “You didn’t sleep well in the hospital, did 

you?” 

“A little,” Sydney admitted. 

A few days ago, a new patient had moved into the next bed–a sweet older lady whose snoring was loud enough to rattle windows. 

When Sydney boarded the plane, she was surprised to find her seat had been upgraded to 

first class. 

Marcus noticed her confusion and raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “Thought you could use a proper nap. Since this trip’s basically unpaid labor, the least I can do is make sure you’re 

rested.” 

As he spoke, he handed her a small sachet filled with calming herbs. 

Sydney smiled as she took it. “Will our mentor reimburse you?” 

“Relax. I can afford this much,” he said. 

“Well then, thank you, 

Marc.” 

Sydney was not one for false modesty. Marcus was indeed well off. His family owned a prominent pharmaceutical company, and running a medicine clinic was just a personal 

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Chapter 17 

passion project for him. 

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No one expected the herbal remedy he and Sydney had developed to make the clinic famous overnight, attracting endless waves of patients. 

Jouleston and Storia had a six–hour time difference. By the time they landed, the sun was 

high and warm. 

A staff member from the research institute waited to drive them to the hotel. 

When they arrived at her room, Marcus walked Sydney to the door. Just as she reached for the keycard, he noticed her bare ring finger. “You used to treasure that wedding ring. Why aren’t you wearing it?” 

“Lost it,” Sydney shrugged casually. “Marc, I’m getting a divorce.” 

Marcus froze for a moment, then lifted an eyebrow, clearly pleased. “Looks like the old man was right all along. Caleb never deserved you.” 

Sydney caught the spark of amusement in his expression. “Can I take that as you gloating?” 

“Absolutely not. I’m genuinely happy for you,” he said with a grin and helped carry her suitcase inside. “Get some rest. I’ll pick you up later for dinner.” 

“Sure.” 

After washing up, Sydney pulled her phone from her bag. The moment she powered it on, messages started trickling in. Caleb’s stood out immediately. 

Caleb: [Syd, something came up. I can’t bring you home from the hospital today.] 

Caleb: [Be good. I’ll come back tonight, and we’ll open your gift together.] 

Sydney smirked. 

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Something came up? More like something came up for Penelope. 

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She did not bother replying. Instead, she messaged Tiffany to let her know she’d arrived 

safely. 

Already well–rested from the flight and with time to spare, Sydney decided to go for a stroll. 

Tiffany was still in a meeting when she got the message. Relieved to know Sydney was safe, she did not reply immediately. 

After working late, Tiffany finally called and got straight to the point. “Did Caleb see the divorce papers yet? Did he say anything?” 

It was deep into the night in Jouleston. If Caleb had not stood her up again, he should have 

opened the gift and seen the divorce papers. Maybe he simply could not imagine a world where Sydney was not obediently waiting in that giant, empty house night after night. 

Sydney did not want to speculate. She stood inside an old cathedral, gazing up at the intricate sculptures, and answered casually, “No idea. Not yet.” 

Her answer was short and to the point. 

Sydney was not in a rush, but Tiffany clearly was. “My God, you’re really not even a little anxious?” 

“If the outcome won’t change no matter the process, then what’s the point of rushing?” 

Sydney said calmly. 

“Touché.” Tiffany sighed. “If every client and every judge I worked with had your Zen–level calm, my job would be so much easier.” 

“That’s impossible,” Sydney teased. “Part of your salary is basically hazard pay for dealing with emotional wrecks.” 

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By the time Sydney left the cathedral, the sky had darkened. 

Seeing it was almost time, she hailed a cab back to the hotel. Just as the elevator doors 

opened, she bumped into Marcus. Together, they headed to the dinner arranged by the research institute–a welcome banquet of sorts. 

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Her mentor was a legendary name in medicine, and representing him meant they would be treated with the utmost respect. 

The institute’s host, a fellow countryman, greeted them warmly, “Mr. Shepard, Ms. Wilson, thank you so much for coming all this way. Please, have a seat.” 

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