The Proposal

I stared at him, and for a moment, I thought of saying I needed a fresh start, a place to belong. But those were easy lies. The kind people told when they wanted pity. I didn’t want pity. I wanted something else.

I inhaled deeply and settled for the safest answer. “I needed a job.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Bullshit. You don’t believe that. Come on, Elaine, you don’t strike me as someone who moves without a reason.”

I clasped my hands together beneath the table and offered a small shrug. “I actually do need a job. That’s a fact, Anderson, and…” I cleared my throat, trying to keep my voice neutral. “Maybe I needed a way back in.”

“To what?” he raised a brow in question. “Your world? Or mine?” A small, stinging ache settled beneath my ribs.

Not wanting to give away how his question affected me, I lowered my voice. “I’m not sure.” It was the truth. A crease formed between his brows. He didn’t believe me. Not fully. “What exactly did you hear, Anderson? I want to know.” Knowing what he knew about me or what he had heard about me will help narrow down the answers I would give him.

He heaved out a sigh. “When I got back, I tried finding you. I really did,” hearing him say that gave me a reluctant jolt in my chest. There was a time when hearing that would have shattered me in a good way.

“I asked around. Used every contact I had. I heard pieces. That you got married. And that your father’s company was being run by someone else. Your name was off everything.” he paused like he was thinking of the right words to say. “I kept thinking how Elaine Campbell ended up being married to a Timothy Blackwood, and then disappeared? How did she lose everything her family built? It was beyond me.”

His voice wasn’t angry. It was stunned. Maybe even disappointed. “And no one could give me a straight answer. All the public records just stopped. You vanished, and he surfaced, and I couldn’t make sense of it. And now you apply here for a job far beneath your qualifications,” he finished off.

My spirit shriveled and sank like a deflating balloon, but was partly relieved, because he didn’t know the worst parts. He only knew the surface. And even that made him look at me like the girl he remembered had been replaced.

I shifted in my seat and looked down at my clasped hands, forcing my expression into something bland. “Is that all?” I asked, my voice deliberately low and casual, like it didn’t matter.

Anderson’s creased brows deepened, as if he caught the deflection but didn’t want to press it. “I think that was most of what I heard,” he said carefully. “That Campbell Heritage was no longer in your control. That you dropped off the radar.” He paused. “Why? Is there more?”

I tilted my head, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make it clear that the question irritated me. “No,” I said. “You’ve heard enough. More than most, apparently.”

I could feel his eyes searching me, waiting and watching, peeling back the layers I had so carefully constructed. “You’ve heard it all,” I added quickly.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but a knock interrupted us. We both maintained eye contact as the door creaked open and a voice floated in.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

I didn’t need to turn. I recognized that voice in an instant.

Barbara Sinclair.

I swung my gaze to her.

She stood in the doorway, the very picture of grace. Her posture was perfect, her hair tucked behind one ear, and a manila folder in one hand.

“I didn’t realize you were in a meeting, Ander,” she added, stepping in with an easy, professional smile. Then her eyes landed on me.

“Elaine,” she piped.

“Barbara,” I returned, managing a nod. God, she looked good.

She approached the desk, placing the folder gently in front of Anderson. “You didn’t tell me you were meeting with Elaine.”

“It wasn’t planned,” Anderson replied smoothly.

Barbara looked back at me. “It’s good to see you. It’s been a while.”

“It has,” I said, with a small smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

As she stood there, poised and composed, a wave of insecurity and jealousy washed over me. Barbara, the girl who had once been one of my closest friends, who used to look up to me, was now so in control. And Anderson, too, seemed to carry the weight of success effortlessly. Meanwhile, I was the one who had been erased from the world I belonged to.

They were both thriving. It thought grimly. I felt a sting of inadequacy prick at my skin, a reminder of how far I’d fallen.

Barbara turned to Anderson. “These are the projections you asked for. Let me know if you need a breakdown.”

Anderson nodded. “I will. Thank you.”

She glanced back at me. Her eyes traveled down my frame like I were a spectacle. Gosh, I hated how small I felt next to her. How out of place. Like I was wearing someone else’s skin. “You look well,”

“Do I?” I replied, my lips curving just enough to be polite. “It’s the lighting in here. Very forgiving.”

Her eyes narrowed a fraction. Then she gave a practiced laugh. “Well, I suppose we’ve all changed.”

“Some more than the others,” I murmured, mimicking her laugh.

She lingered seconds too long, sensing the tension but not addressing it. She and I hadn’t spoken in years. We weren’t enemies, but we weren’t friends anymore either. We were just two people who used to know each other.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Barbara said eventually. She turned to Anderson again. “Don’t forget to let me know when you are ready to go over the details.”

“Sure,” he answered.

“Take care, Elaine,” she said as she turned on her heels, not sparing me another glance.

“You too.”

She left quietly, the door clicking softly behind her. I let out a breath, trying to steady the turmoil inside me.

“She works here?” I asked, trying to sound casual but the question slipped out sharper than I intended.

Anderson gave a small nod. “Yeah. Barbara heads Strategy and Development. She has been with Worth for about three years now.”

My mouth shaped into an o. “Good for her. She is doing well," I blurted before I could stop myself. He looked at me, but I kept my eyes forward. “You both are,” I added.

Anderson was quiet for a moment. Then he spoke. “You care for lunch?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Lunch,” he repeated.

I hesitated. “Don’t you have work?”

He stood. “Yes, I do. Let’s go. My treat. Unless you are too scared to be seen in public with me.”

“You always did have an ego,” I muttered, standing with him.

He smirked. “It’s well earned,”

The restaurant was painfully quiet. Elegant, intimate, but quiet. The kind of silence where you could hear the clink of cutlery from the next table, the occasional cough from the far corner, the ice settling in the glass.

I hated silence like this. It made it too easy for your thoughts to slip in and take a seat.

We sat across from each other in a secluded booth near the windows, where the city stretched out behind Anderson.

A waiter appeared almost immediately, a young man with a polite smile. “Can I start you with something to drink?”

“Cabernet, please,” Anderson said with no hesitation. He glanced at me, giving me a silent invitation.

“Red wine, please. Something full-bodied.”

The waiter jotted down the order and disappeared. I reached for my glass when it arrived, the deep ruby liquid catching the light. I took a slow sip, letting the chill spread through me. I suppressed the urge to moan out loud to save myself from unwarranted embarrassment. But damn. I haven’t had anything like this in ages. My expensive tastebuds were dancing in joy.

Anderson watched me with an unreadable expression. The faintest curve of a smile touched his lips. The waiter returned with menus, and Anderson scanned the options.

“May I recommend the seared salmon?” he suggested, glancing at me.

I bobbed, grateful for the suggestion. “That sounds good.” The waiter took our orders and left.

I busied myself with the napkin in my lap as we waited. Anderson didn’t speak right away, and neither did I.

“You’ve been dodging my questions,” he said, finally.

I didn’t deny it.

“I know why you came to me,” he continued, his tone flat. He dropped the line like he had been rehearsing it in his head since I walked into his office.

I swallowed, the wine suddenly bitter on my tongue. “I didn’t plan it like that,” I looked out the window. “I didn’t sit around calculating how to use you.”

“You are, now,” he said deadpan.

I slowly glanced back at him. “I’m trying to survive, Anderson. I have nothing.”

He wasn’t fazed. “So tell me how you ended up here. Not the public version. You. Tell me the truth.”

I looked at the glass of wine in front of me and folded my hands in my lap, clenching them tightly. I tried to find the right place to start. But there was none.

I tried to keep my face still. I really tried, but my throat closed up, and I could feel it building. The sting in my eyes, the heat behind my lashes, the way my nose prickled in warning.

I looked down, blinking hard. Once. Twice. Still, the tears came.

First, just one, slipping down my cheek before I could catch it. Then another. And another. My hand flew up to wipe them away fast, like I could erase the evidence before it was fully visible. I was too late.

“Damn it,” i whispered under my breath, angry at myself for cracking. I wasn’t supposed to cry in front of him. Not now. Not here.

I swiveled slightly, shielding my face with one hand, but I could feel Anderson watching me carefully with no judgment. I saw his hand reach toward his chest. With a swift motion, he pulled a crisp white handkerchief from his breast pocket of his suit jacket and slid it across the table toward me.

“Thanks,” my voice hoarse and low as I took it. I pressed the material into my eyes, willing myself to pull it together. “They said I was unstable,” I began, my lips quivering. “That I tried to kill myself. That I needed psychiatric care. That I was a danger to myself. And no one questioned it. Not the doctors. Not the board. Nobody.”

Anderson didn’t move a muscle.

“It started the night I got those texts from Timothy,” I said, my breath catching. “He made it look like I was spiraling. I wasn’t. I wasn’t suicidal. I went to sleep, Anderson. That’s all I did. And I woke up bleeding in the bathtub, too sedated to understand what was happening.”

Another tear rolled down my cheek. “The next thing I knew, I was in a psych ward, restrained, medicated, being told I was delusional and that the man who locked me up loved me.”

Anderson’s eyes widened. “Jesus,” he muttered.

I bit my lip, shaking my head. “And while I was in there, he was out there transferring my assets, taking over my father’s company, selling off my properties. Everything.”

His eyes darkened as he leaned back. “That son of a–” he let out a steady breath, cutting himself off.

I gave a shallow laugh. “You think that’s the worst of it? No. The worst part of it was knowing that no one came. Not one person fought for me.”

His jaw tensed, and I saw something flash across his face, blurred between anger and guilt.

“I saw him,” Anderson stated, and my brows shot up. “Timothy. A week after I got back. He reached out to me, talking about doing business with him. I found it strange that he knew about my arrival in the first place because I was very discreet with it. What threw me off was when he attempted to sell me one of your father’s subsidiaries. That’s when I started looking into things. Didn’t take long after that, I found out that he was running Campbell Heritage like he’d inherited it, and you were married to him.” his voice dipped slightly on the word “married.”

I let out a hollow laugh. “He is a horrible human being.”

“Then he reached out to me again. And I asked about you.” he paused, his expression guarded. “He said you two had separated amicably and that you needed space. Said you weren’t interested in coming back into the public eye.”

“Of course he did,” I seethed.

“I knew it was bullshit,” he said with a sharp voice. “I didn’t know what kind. But now it’s clear. He was laying the groundwork. Making sure no one came looking for you. How did you come across someone like him?” he muttered with delicate disdain.

I gave an exhalation of frustration. “The time he came into my life,” I shook my head. “I was really alone. I had just lost my dad. I was drowning in grief. I was in a dark space, and he felt like the right person at that time,” I swallowed. “I didn’t know anything about him. Nothing real anyway. And by the time I started to see the truth, it was too late.”

Another silence.

He looked down at his hands for a moment. They slowly back at me. “What do you want?”

I met his gaze as I thought of an answer. I want Timothy to pay. I want everything back. I want my life back. Those were the thoughts running through my mind. But that would just be half-baked. Anderson already knew what I wanted. That was why he asked. He was seeking confirmation.

There was no going back, so I told the truth. “You.”

He nodded. “Good.”

He leaned forward. “Then marry me.”