Chapter 6
440words
With their technical edge gone, major clients jumped ship to Stellar. Investors pulled out, banks called in loans, projects stalled, and the stock went into free fall. His once-mighty business empire crumbled like a house of cards.
He started hunting for me desperately.
My phone exploded with calls, texts, and messages at all hours.
He abandoned all dignity, camping outside my office building and apartment complex like a desperate stalker—or more accurately, like the failure he'd become.
He was no longer the polished, confident CEO.
His beard grew wild, his eyes sank into dark hollows, his once-immaculate suits hung wrinkled on his frame, and he reeked of expensive whiskey.
Whenever he spotted me leaving work or stepping from my car, he'd lunge forward, eyes frantic, babbling the same desperate words:
"Wendy, I was wrong—so wrong! I was blind! I didn't know… didn't realize it was all you! I love YOU, always have! It was Victoria's fault—she left me when she thought I'd be crippled forever! That's why I—"
He'd break down sobbing, a grown man reduced to a sniveling child, pawing at me as I stepped away in revulsion.
Once, the slightest frown from him would have sent me into a panic, desperate to ease his discomfort.
Now, watching his face contort with drunken remorse, I felt nothing but emptiness and a faint wave of nausea.
His tears and confessions were as worthless as counterfeit bills.
I yanked my arm from his grasp. "Save it, Nathan. Answer three questions correctly, and maybe I'll listen to your pathetic apologies."
He perked up like a drowning man spotting a lifeline. "Anything! Ask me anything!"
I stared directly into his bloodshot eyes. "One: When is my birthday? Two: What am I severely allergic to? Three: What was my greatest dream before I met you?"
He froze mid-sob, mouth hanging open. His eyes darted wildly as he searched for answers that weren't there, lips moving soundlessly.
Those simple questions cut through his pretense like a scalpel through tissue paper.
He never knew me at all.
He'd needed a nurse, a servant, a miracle worker—someone to carry him from hell, take his abuse without complaint, and magically ensure his success.
But he'd never bothered to know, let alone love, the actual woman named Wendy Shaw.
He'd only loved what I could do for him.
"Get lost," I said, opening my car door. "Your apologies are worthless. Your 'love' makes me physically ill."
The window rose, cutting off his pathetic face mid-plea.
As I drove away, I left him and his wreckage permanently behind me.
