When Mason returned to the villa, it was almost eleven o'clock.

Entering the foyer, a servant approached and welcomed him softly, "Sir, you're back. Do you want to have supper?"

Mason took off his coat, unbuttoned two shirt buttons, and then said calmly, "Just something plain and simple will do. Is Zoe already asleep?"

The servant respectfully took his coat and whispered, "She had a little something in the evening, played the piano for a while, and hasn't come down since."

Mason murmured his acknowledgment.

As the servant left, he walked to the dining room. He sat down, reached for the glass door of the French window, and lit a cigarette.

In the pale smoke, memories flooded back. He remembered how Zoe used to wait for him at home, preparing a table full of dishes or snacks, eagerly anticipating him trying it. Even if it was just a bite, it could make her happy for half a day.

In the past, the dining table was lonely.

Now, it was still lonely, but the person who felt the lonel