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More Than A Gesture Novel Cover

More Than A Gesture

Violet Miller’s obsession with cleanliness was a defining trait of her personality, yet her husband is shocked to witness her peeling shrimp for a male intern at a dinner party. This intimate act feels like a betrayal, leading him to demand a divorce immediately. Despite Violet’s claims that Daniel is merely like a younger brother, the emotional damage is done. As he struggles with his aching heart, he must decide if their marriage is worth saving or if it is time to move on.
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Chapter 2

At the lunch gathering earlier, not only did Violet peel shrimp for Daniel, she even shared a bowl with him.

Only then did I realize the truth: Violet’s so-called obsession with cleanliness was selective, and sadly, I wasn’t on the list of people she made exceptions for.

I had spent ten years trying to warm a heart that never thawed for me.

So… Why not let go and set us both free?

…

Violet and Daniel had barely left when my phone rang.

“Mr. Sargent, you’re the primary funder of this research project. Are you sure you won’t be attending the seminar today?”

The image of Daniel’s smug expression as he walked out surfaced again in my mind, and I smiled sadly.

“I’ll be there.”

Violet had earned a reputation as a medical prodigy, particularly celebrated for her breakthroughs in anti-cancer drug research.

She was admired and well respected.

What she didn’t know, however, was that every one of her projects required massive financial support.

Without that backing, even a prodigy would struggle to take a single step forward.

And I was her largest investor.

I never told her, because I didn’t want her to feel pressured or indebted to me.

All I ever wanted was her heart—freely given.

After changing and heading out, I immediately spotted Violet and Daniel standing by the roadside, looking anxious.

Only then did I remember that all the cars at home had been sent in for maintenance.

“Haven’t been able to get a ride?”

Daniel let out a helpless sigh, frustration creeping into his voice.

“This place is too remote. And with the bad weather, no drivers are accepting our request.”

“If we wait any longer, we really will be late.

“If you hadn’t insisted on making a scene, we wouldn’t be this pressed for time.”

Daniel never wasted a single chance to throw shade at me.

I ignored him and walked straight toward my private car, which had just arrived.

That was when Violet noticed me and hurried over.

“This car’s yours?” Violet asked.

“At least you’re being sensible. I’ll let what happened slide.”

She reached for the door handle, but I stopped her.

“This is my ride.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but Daniel rushed over before she could speak.

He looked slightly harassed.

“What are you doing, Mr. Sargent? What do you mean that this is your ride?”

As he spoke, he held up his phone and showed the screen to Violet.

“I booked this car. It’s not your ride, Mr. Sargent.”

Violet’s expression toward me changed instantly.

“Are you being that petty, John? You’re fighting Daniel over something this trivial?”

Daniel’s face twisted into a horrible smile.

“Sorry, Mr. Sargent. The car’s too small, so there’s no room for you. If you really need a ride, maybe try faking an illness and calling an ambulance.

“Can you face the consequences if the Professor were to arrive late?”

I pressed my lips together as anger surged behind my eyes.

Sensing the shift in my mood, the driver quickly got out of the car to explain.

“Apologies, Sir and Madam. I’m here for Mr. Sargent. Please step aside.”

He then respectfully opened the back door for me.

Violet stared at me..

“He’s here to pick you up? Where are you going?”

I didn’t respond. I simply glanced at Daniel’s phone screen and let out a cold, derisive laugh.

“You booked a Chevrolet Bolt. This one’s a Bentley. Even if you don’t recognize the emblem, surely you can read the license plate?”

Daniel’s face flushed red, then pale.

He looked at Violet with wounded eyes.

“It’s true I’m not as rich as Mr. Sargent and don’t know much about luxury cars… but does he have to humiliate me like that?

“And who knows—maybe some mistress sent that Bentley for him.”

A sharp slap cracked through the air, and a red handprint bloomed across my left cheek.

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