Chapter 7

Jacqueline’s POV

“Hey,” I waved lightly from the doorway. “Can I come in?”

He nodded, barely sparing me a glance.

“I got the mail too,” I said softly, careful not to let my worry spill out too openly. I knew this was affecting him deeply, maybe even more than it did me.

I walked over and placed my hands on his shoulders, pressing into them gently, trying to offer warmth.

He stayed quiet.

“Does this have anything to do with why you left home so early?” I asked, the words tiptoeing out before I could stop them.

“Can we not ask questions now? We have a bigger problem,” he snapped, his voice sharp and cold, splintering any softness he might have tried to keep.

I swallowed the sting, a tight knot forming at the base of my throat.

“Okay,” I murmured.

“I guess I’ll just go back to my office,” I added, stepping back carefully.

He didn’t say a word.

I turned and walked out, each step echoing against the corridor walls like a slow drumbeat.

As I moved, voices swelled around me, low and tense like a storm building on the horizon.

Legal case.

Fraud.

Court.

Their words clung to me, sticky and cold.

I paused at the restroom door, the murmur of voices spilling in from the hallway.

“I’ve always known something shady was going on,” a woman’s voice rang out.

“What are you talking about?” a man replied, his confusion painting each word.

“The company has been sued for illegal financial disbursement,” she said, her voice sharp with excitement. “It’s everywhere. Can’t believe you haven’t heard.”

“I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding. Management will fix it,” he insisted weakly.

She let out a harsh laugh. “Oh, please. This time the truth will come out. Especially about that cheat… Mr. Derek. He’s the mastermind if you ask me.”

I felt my knees turn to water. My fingers clawed at the wall for balance.

What?

No. No. No. It’s not true. It can’t be true.

I forced air into my lungs, but each breath burned, heavy and sharp.

Derek? My Derek?

The man who calls me “my bright star” when I forget how to shine?

Memories crashed over me, his warm laughter echoing through the kitchen as he flipped pancakes, the way he kissed my forehead while in the kitchen cooking, his arms around me when I cried watching sad movies.

The man who stayed up all night to help me rehearse my first big presentation? Who once drove three hours just to surprise me with my favorite pastries? That Derek?

He’s flawed, yes. Distant, inattentive sometimes… But a mastermind? A cheat?

My heart pounded painfully against my ribs.

How could they say that? They don’t know him. They don’t know his heart the way I do.

My mind thrashed against the words, trying to rip them apart before they took root.

No. They’re just bored office gossipers, desperate for drama. That woman is probably jealous. She doesn’t know him. She doesn’t know our quiet mornings or the way he pulls me close at night, half-asleep but always finding me.

I pressed my palm to my chest, feeling my heartbeat hammering wildly beneath.

Stop it. Stop it. Don’t let this get to you.

My throat tightened. I felt tears pressing at the corners of my eyes, but I forced them back.

I can’t believe it. I won’t. We’ve built too much. We’ve shared too much. I’ve given him too much of myself to believe this now.

I shut my eyes, trying to see him, just him. Not the Derek they were whispering about.

Remember the first time he saw you in that red dress and whispered that you looked like his forever? Remember the time he waited in the rain for two hours because you forgot your keys?

A voice deep inside me, small but insistent, curled around my ribs.

But what if…?

No. Stop. Not now. Not here.

I squeezed my eyes tighter, as though I could push the doubts back into the darkness where they belonged.

I won’t let them ruin him for me. I won’t let them poison the only love I’ve ever truly known.

I forced my breathing to slow, my fingers gripping the cold sink edge as if it were the only thing keeping me tethered.

Believe in him. Just believe in him. Please…

I opened my eyes and stared at my pale reflection, my lips pressed into a thin, trembling line.

I straightened, rolling my shoulders back, as though preparing for battle.

I would hold on to the man I knew, or thought I knew. Because if I didn’t… if I let their words take root… I wasn’t sure what would be left of me.

With one last deep breath, I turned and stepped out of the restroom, my heels clicking sharply on the tiles, each strike echoing my silent mantra.

No. No. No.

….

In the conference hall, the air was thick with tension, the kind that clings to your skin like humidity before a storm.

The HR manager stepped forward, her expression strained but composed.

“The court has set a date for the preliminary hearing,” she announced, her tone firm and unwavering, as though certain that everyone at the table understood exactly what this meant, leaving no room, or need, to revisit the details.

A wave of murmurs rolled through the hall like a sudden gust of wind. People turned to each other in small clusters, groups of three, some of two, each one buzzing with whispered accusations and theories, fingers practically itching to point blame.

All the while, my gaze stayed glued to Derek. He sat still, eerily quiet, his face unreadable but his knuckles white where they gripped the table. His jaw flexed as though he were chewing on words he couldn’t bear to spit out.

My man, I thought desperately, the words echoing in my chest like a fragile prayer.

“The site manager has something to say,” the HR manager continued, glancing anxiously at Derek. “We’ll wrap up from there and return to our duties.”

Silence fell like a dropped curtain. All eyes turned to Derek– my Derek.

He stood slowly, exhaling softly, but I could hear the heaviness of it as if he were sighing straight into my ear.

“We will get to the root of this,” he said, his voice straining beneath the weight of forced calm. “In the meantime, I urge you all to focus on your duties as usual.”

A fresh ripple of murmuring stirred.

Then, from across the room, a sharp voice cut through:

“Mr. Robinson,” Derek snapped suddenly, all pretense of calm cracking at the edges. “If there’s anything you’d like to share, I suggest you put it on the table now, rather than whisper it to a selected few.”

All attention shifted abruptly to Mr. Robinson, the public relations officer, who looked like a man caught mid-theft under a floodlight.

“Huh…uhm, I was just wondering why, up to this moment, we haven’t been given details about the lawsuit,” Robinson stammered, his hand fumbling with a pen.

“He’s right,” several voices murmured in agreement, the tension in the room spiking higher.

Derek inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that made my own breathing feel shaky. I could almost hear the low thunder of his heartbeat, echoing inside my own ribcage.

“Well,” Derek said at last, each word clipped, “as I stated before, we are working to uncover the full extent of this issue. Any verified information will be shared at the appropriate time.”

Mr. Robinson spoke again, a tremor in his voice. “Our investors and shareholders have already started reaching out to me about this matter. I’m not sure how it got to them so quickly.”

“This will be dealt with before it escalates any further,” Derek cut in, his voice rougher now, almost strangled. “And I expect everyone here to keep this matter strictly confidential until we have clarity.”

His eyes swept the room like a blade, landing finally and briefly on me. For one flickering second, I saw something there: fear, desperation… and something else. Guilt? No. It couldn’t be.

The meeting wrapped up in a tangle of tension and half-finished questions. Faces were tight with confusion, lips pressed into hard lines, some eyes darting everywhere as if searching for an escape.

I sighed heavily, my chest tight, as I pushed through the door back into the hallway. The look on Derek’s face replayed over and over, an endless loop clawing at my insides.

I was so lost in the spinning labyrinth of my thoughts that I barely noticed Calvin snapping his fingers right in front of my eyes.

I jumped, startled.

“Where have you been?!” I demanded, my voice sharper than I intended. “You weren’t at the meeting.”

He shrugged, almost too casually. “Stepped out for lunch with a client. The meeting ran long… but it ended well.”

“Oh,” I said, my mind still half-trapped in the conference hall.

“So… what was the meeting about?” he pressed, tilting his head like a curious dog.

I opened my mouth to answer, but at that exact moment, my phone chimed, a sharp, slicing sound that made my fingers twitch.

I glanced down at the screen. The sender’s name glared at me, a neon brand on my retinas.

My breath caught, my stomach knotting tight. I hovered, thumb trembling.

Somewhere deep inside me, a voice whispered: Don’t open it. You’re not ready.

But I couldn’t look away. In the echoing corridors of my mind, every heartbeat sounded like a gavel slamming down.

I hesitated, paralyzed between needing to know and dreading the truth I might find.