His Wife Calls The Shots
Chapter 1603: He Realized He Was Wrong

Chapter 1603: Chapter 1603: He Realized He Was Wrong

Chapter 1603

Layla Lowell hurried back home, her thoughts in chaos, the scene she had just witnessed in the parking lot replaying before her eyes as if haunted.

The two of them embraced, talking about their child.

They... still had feelings for each other!

"Mommy, come and eat," Dawn called her.

"Miss Lowell, didn’t you say you were going to call Mr. Carrington?" the nanny puzzled.

Layla Lowell touched her forehead and said, "Auntie, please take care of Dawn for me. I’m not feeling well and need to lie down for a bit."

"Oh, but..."

Before the nanny could finish speaking, she had already walked toward the bedroom and shut the door behind her.

The nanny had no choice but to feed the child first.

About three minutes later, the main gate opened, and Charles Carrington walked in.

The nanny quickly stood up: "Oh, Mr. Carrington, I thought you weren’t coming back for dinner."

Charles Carrington hung up his coat, changed his shoes, and walked inside.

"Where is my wife?" he glanced around but didn’t see Layla Lowell.

The nanny said, "Mrs. Carrington said she felt unwell and went to rest. I found it strange because she was fine when she went out to look for you earlier, and when she got back, she said she was unwell..."

Charles Carrington’s eyes tightened with a hint of nervous emotion, "She went out to look for me?"

"Yes! She said she would ask if you were coming back for dinner and also retrieve something she left in the car, but when she got back, she had neither seen you nor retrieved anything," the nanny explained.

Charles Carrington thought for a moment and said, "Go ahead and eat without me."

He headed toward Layla Lowell’s bedroom.

He knocked twice on the door but heard no response.

"Fishie, I’m coming in."

He turned the doorknob and stole a glance inside, seeing her curled up on the bed, not even covered by a blanket, just engrossed with her phone.

He closed the door, pulled a chair up to the bedside, and said, "Can we talk?"

Layla Lowell intently stared at her phone, her thumb swiftly maneuvering the character in the game, not saying a word.

"I know you went downstairs just now and saw us. I want to talk to you about it."

Suddenly, Layla Lowell slammed down on her phone with a curse.

"I don’t want to talk to you!"

The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder.

Charles Carrington knew it wasn’t the right time, but he still had to say it.

"Miranda Jones is a friend from high school, the daughter of a friend of my mother’s. You could say she is an ex-girlfriend, but we didn’t date long before breaking up, and nothing happened between us."

"I don’t want to listen, just leave, please," she said fiercely, visibly displeased.

"You’re angry," he noted.

"Angry?" she scoffed, sitting up. "Why should I upset myself over a scumbag like you? Wouldn’t I be better off playing a few more rounds of the game?"

Her emotions were visibly agitated, her gaze sharp as thorns.

Charles Carrington didn’t immediately respond to her, hoping she would calm down first.

Instead, he was met with pillows thrown at his face.

He said nothing, setting them aside one by one, letting her vent her frustration.

After everything on the bed had been thrown, Layla Lowell, in a fit of anger, got up to leave.

It was as though if he wouldn’t leave, she would; such was her determination.

Watching her sullen face, Charles Carrington slowly realized he had made a mistake.

He had always seen Layla Lowell as a child. Even when he viewed her as a woman, he saw her through a "childish" filter.

A simple girl who needed his care, naive yet full of spirit.

So, they were never equals.

He always placed himself on a pedestal, calmly and detachedly watching her play and frolic in the territory he controlled.

The truth proved him severely wrong.

----

(Good night)

This chapter is updated by freew(e)bnovel.(c)om