'A pang of sadness hit her at the thought.' She lowered her eyes. "I don't know what you like anymore. You should pick out your own clothes. I'm going downstairs."
For years, she had known his every preference like the back of her hand, which was why she'd had the confidence to take care of everything for him. But three years had passed, and now he felt like a stranger.
With that, she turned and walked out, leaving Julian Donovan behind. Watching her go, he felt an even heavier weight of guilt in his heart.
After getting ready, he went downstairs. Dylan, looking refreshed and energetic, was sitting at the dining table. He glanced over as his father approached and commented coolly, "When you get old, your stamina really tanks. Can't believe you slept in this late."
He sat down at the table and shot the little devil an annoyed glare. 'As for his stamina,' he thought, 'his mother would have to be the one to personally verify it.'
