When Love is a Question Mark-Chapter 267: Coincidence or Clue?

She froze, her gaze flickering back up to Samuel’s face. She studied him intently, as if seeing him in a new light. Their faces... she thought, her mind racing. They’re almost identical. The same sharp jawline, the same piercing eyes. It’s just their demeanor that sets them apart. Samuel is composed, reserved... while James is more casual, easygoing. But if someone else saw them, someone who didn’t know them well, they might think they were the same person.

Zinnia’s thoughts spiraled as she tried to rationalize the situation. The shoes... it’s probably just a coincidence. It can happen. Maybe they bought them from the same store, or maybe it’s a popular brand. She wanted to believe it was nothing more than chance, but a part of her couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in her chest. What are the odds, though? For the shoes to be exactly the same?

Samuel noticed her silence and tilted his head slightly, concern flickering in his eyes. "Zia?" he asked gently. "Is everything okay?"

She blinked, snapping out of her thoughts, and quickly shook her head. "Y-yeah," she stammered, forcing a smile. "I’m fine. Just... tired, I guess."

He frowned, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t press her further. "You should rest," he said softly. "You’ve had a long day."

Zinnia nodded absentmindedly, her mind still lingering on the strange coincidence. "Yeah, I think I will," she murmured.

Samuel stepped closer, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on her shoulder. "Goodnight, Zia," he said, his tone laced with a quiet sincerity.

"Goodnight," she replied, watching as he turned and headed toward his room.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Zinnia sank onto the couch, her thoughts racing. It’s just a coincidence. It has to be. She repeated the words to herself, but no matter how many times she did, the unease remained. Something about the situation didn’t sit right with her, and she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was more to Samuel and James than she knew.

Samuel paced back and forth in his dimly lit room, his thoughts a storm of worry and guilt. He ran his fingers through his hair, his jaw clenched tightly. He had promised Zinnia this would be the last time he kept something from her. The weight of everything pressed down on him like a suffocating fog.

As he reached the far end of the room, his phone buzzed on the bedside table. He glanced at the screen and saw Timmy’s name flashing. Letting out a long sigh, he picked up the call.

"Sir," Timmy’s voice came through, slightly hesitant but firm, "how long do you plan to keep this a secret from Ma’am Zinnia? How long are you planning to keep acting as James?"

Samuel froze for a moment, gripping the phone tightly. He glanced at the closed door of his room, his expression darkening. "Timmy," he said in a low voice, "this isn’t about acting. This is about finding the truth. You know that."

"I understand, sir," Timmy replied, his tone cautious, "but Ma’am Zinnia deserves to know. Every day you continue this charade, it’s going to hurt her more when she finds out."

Samuel clenched his free hand into a fist, his pacing resuming as he processed Timmy’s words. "I know that," he said sharply, though his voice cracked slightly. "Do you think I want to lie to her? I hate this just as much as you do. But I can’t stop now, not until we find out who’s behind all of this."

Timmy sighed on the other end of the line. Lily kept pressing him on this matter. She was running out of patience and desperately wanted to tell Zinnia everything. "Then tell me this, sir—how’s your plan going? How long can you keep pretending to be someone you’re not before it all falls apart?"

"Enough," Samuel snapped, his tone more forceful. "I didn’t pick up your call to hear this. Tell me about the investigation. Did you finally get the information on the mastermind?"

Timmy hesitated for a moment, then spoke carefully. "We’ve uncovered some new leads, sir. It seems the financial discrepancies we flagged last time were deliberately orchestrated to destabilize Lucas Realty Group. Whoever’s behind this wanted the company to fail—and they’ve been planning it for years."

Samuel’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as he processed the information. "Years," he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Someone’s been working in the shadows all this time, and we didn’t even notice."

"Yes, sir," Timmy confirmed. "But there’s more. The mastermind isn’t working alone. They’ve got someone inside—someone close enough to know every move you and the company make."

Samuel stopped pacing, his heart sinking at the implication. "An insider?" he repeated, his voice cold and sharp.

"Yes, sir," Timmy said. "We don’t know their identity yet, but we’re getting closer. I’ve sent a few of our trusted people to dig deeper, but it’s only a matter of time before we connect the dots."

Samuel exhaled heavily, rubbing his temple. "Good," he muttered. "Keep me updated. And Timmy..."

"Yes, sir?"

"Not a word about this to Zinnia," Samuel said firmly. "Not until we’re absolutely sure."

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Timmy replied, his voice tinged with resignation. "Understood, sir. But you need to think about how much longer you can keep this up. Ma’am Zinnia will figure it out eventually. She’s smart."

Samuel’s grip on the phone tightened, his gaze falling to the floor. "I know," he said quietly, his voice laced with frustration and regret. "But I’ll deal with that when the time comes. For now, my focus is on protecting her—and taking down whoever’s trying to destroy everything my family built."

"Understood, sir," Timmy said again. "I’ll keep you updated."

The call ended, and Samuel stood in the silence of his room, his mind racing. He knew Timmy was right—Zinnia deserved the truth. But with so much at stake, he couldn’t risk it. Not yet.

Running a hand down his face, Samuel let out a long sigh and sank into the chair by the window. The faint glow of the streetlights outside cast shadows across his face, reflecting the internal turmoil he couldn’t shake.

"Just a little longer," he muttered to himself, gripping the armrests of the chair. "I’ll end this soon. I have to."