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I take a deep breath, as I glance up at him with a curt nod. "What do you want, James?"
He takes a seat without waiting for an invitation, his calculating eyes fixed on me. "Just checking on you, Kyle. I heard about the little scuffle at the club. Seems like you having trouble keeping your wife in check.”
I clench my jaw, resisting the urge to react to his taunts. "If you don't have anything reasonable to say, I suggest that you leave my office," I reply, my tone cold and dismissive.
“You really did a number on that guy,” he asks. “Who would have thought that the ever-calm and calculated Kyle could ever lose his cool? You’re luckyDaddyis helping you clean up this mess, I wonder what the other board members would think when they get wind of this.”
I close the document in front of me and raise my head to look at him. “What exactly do you want?”
He shrugs nonchalantly, grinning like a fool. “Nothing, I just want you to keep doing what you’re already doing, with time everyone will come to realize that you’re not fit to run this company.”
“And who’s fit to run it, you?” I throw my head back laughing hard for the first time in days.
“You think it’s funny, and it eventually happens.”
“If only wishes were horses, beggars would ride. You can only wish to take over Anderson Corp, and you should consider yourself lucky if that wish even comes true in your dreams.”
He opens his mouth to speak, but I don’t give him the chance to speak. Before he can respond, I cut him off with a dismissive tone, my patience wearing thin in his presence. "James, get out of my office. I have work to do."
He scowls but rises from his seat, offering a parting glare before finally exiting my office. I turn my attention back to my work, determined to focus on the pressing matters at hand while trying to navigate the complex and uncertain future of my relationship with Jewel.
Chapter 19
Jewel
The house feels cavernous and silent, each room echoing with a sense of emptiness that mirrors the void in my heart. It's been a whole week since I last saw Kyle, and the weight of his absence lingers in the air. I move through the house aimlessly, my footsteps sounding like whispers against the cold floors.
Since Kyle moved out, I stopped the housekeeper from coming around, since I’m the only one here, I see no need for her services.
Jasmine sometimes comes around and tries to cheer me up, but I just want to be left alone, so sometimes, when she comes around, I don’t open the door for her.
As I walk around the house aimlessly, the once-vibrant colors of the walls now appear muted, mirroring the dullness that has settled within me. I wander from room to room, trying to shake off the heaviness that clings to my every step. The familiar spaces, once filled with shared laughter and moments of intimacy, now seem like distant echoes of a happier time.
I pass by the rooms where our shared memories reside – the kitchen where we once cooked together, the bedroom where whispered promises were exchanged. The silence is deafening, a stark contrast to the laughter that used to fill these walls.
I catch a glimpse of the flowers and gifts he's sent, scattered across the living room. Each carefully chosen token of apology is met with the same fate – tossed aside, discarded. The apologies feel empty, unable to bridge the growing chasm between us. The scent of the trashed flowers mingles with the stagnant air, a tangible reminder of the unraveling of our once-unbreakable bond.
Kyle's attempts to apologize only deepen the wounds, and the gifts that arrive like clockwork serve as painful reminders of what we once had.
The house, once a sanctuary, now feels like a maze of memories that I'm desperately trying to navigate. I yearn for a sense of purpose, for a way to break free from the monotony of brooding.
The idea of finding a job crosses my mind, a feeble attempt to distract myself from the emotional turmoil. I’ve heard that working helps to keep your mind busy, and I want to stop thinking about Kyle.
But the thought of working doesn’t sit well with me, I’ve never liked to work, and I’m not just cut out for that. I stare at my reflection in the hallway mirror, the hollow gaze staring back at me, reflecting a sense of loss and confusion. I look like a shadow of myself.
Shopping, once a therapeutic escape, now holds no allure. The boutiques and stores that used to beckon me with their colorful displays now seem like distant mirages. The designer bags and sparkling jewelry fail to evoke the joy they once did. The simple pleasures that used to define my days now feel like relics of a bygone era.
I walk over to the fridge grab a bottle of orange juice, one of the few left from the last time, Maria was here, and went grocery shopping.
I take a sip, not really tasting it as I walk over to the living room, and lay on a couch. I turn on the TV trying to get myself to see a movie, hoping it will help to keep my mind occupied.
Minutes later, the evening descends, casting a soft glow across the living room as I find myself sprawled on the couch.
The soft glow of the television casts a muted ambiance, creating a cocoon of isolation around me. As I lay on the couch, the movie playing on the screen serves as a mere distractionfrom the tumultuous thoughts racing through my mind. The characters' struggles unfold in a detached narrative, mirroring the complexities of my own emotions.
Suddenly, the door creaks open, interrupting the movie's soundtrack. My eyes flicker away from the screen, and there he is – Kyle, a mere silhouette against the dim light. The sight of him entering the room feels like a jolt to my senses, and my heart momentarily skips a beat.
The weariness etched on his face, the shadows beneath his eyes – all stark indicators of the toll our recent turmoil has taken on him. As he moves further into the room, the space around him seems to waver, reflecting the emotional turbulence that envelops us both.
