Chapter 23

The heavy mahogany door of Taylor's private corporate office stood closed before me, but the sheer chaos of my own swirling thoughts finally pushed me over the edge. I couldn't keep quiet any longer. I couldn't sit back and let this agonising charade continue without clearing the air. I needed to have a direct, brutal confrontation with Taylor once and for all.

For three days, I had been pacing the floors of my own room; my mind was a hurricane of jealousy, regret, and desperate longing. Sleep had become a distant memory, and every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Sophia dancing under the fairy lights, laughing with Taylor, looking at her with those soft, adoring eyes that had once been reserved for me. The image burned behind my eyelids like a brand, searing itself into my brain until I thought I would go mad.

I couldn't eat. I couldn't think. I could barely breathe. Every breath I took was poisoned by the knowledge that Sophia was slipping further and further away from me, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing I could do about it.

Taking a deep, shaky breath to summon whatever ragged courage I had left, I raised my hand and knocked firmly on the door. The sound echoed through the quiet hallway, sharp and demanding, and I winced at my own audacity.

"Come in," Taylor's voice called out from the other side, cool, crisp, and effortlessly commanding.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The office was exactly as I remembered it sleek and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of the city skyline. The afternoon sun streamed through the glass, casting long shadows across the polished concrete floor and illuminating the minimalist décor in shades of white, black, and chrome. It was a space designed to intimidate, to assert dominance, and it did its job perfectly.

Taylor didn't look up immediately; she was bent over a stack of high-priority financial reports, her pen scratching rhythmically against the paper. She wore a tailored navy blazer that made her look every inch the powerful CEO she was. When she finally raised her head, expecting a business associate or an assistant, her dark eyes widened slightly as they landed on me.

For a fraction of a second, her expression softened into something warm something almost gentle but she quickly masked it, dipping her chin back down to resume reading her files. The flicker of humanity was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the cold, impassive mask she wore for the world.

I didn't wait for an invitation. I walked straight across the plush carpet and came to a halt right in front of her massive, modern oak desk, standing tall instead of taking a seat.

"Taylor," I called out, my voice tight with a mixture of desperate frustration and burning jealousy.

She paused, lifting her eyes to meet mine. The pen in her hand stilled, hovering above the paper. "If you're here to waste my time, Andrew, turn around and walk out. I have a mountain of work to get through."

Her tone was dismissive, almost bored, and it made my blood boil. How could she be so calm? How could she sit there, surrounded by her wealth and her power, as though she hadn't just turned my entire world upside down?

"Why are you going so far out of your way to defend Sophia?" I demanded, the words bursting out of my chest before I could filter them. "All I know….all anyone in this city knows is that you have never liked women! That was the entire reason I came to you in the first place, begging you to play along and take her off my hands!"

The confession hung in the air between us, ugly and raw. I had never admitted it out loud before not to anyone but it was true. When Sophia had become too much of a burden, too clingy, too desperate for a love I couldn't give her, I had gone to Taylor. I had begged her to take Sophia away, to distract her, to give me the freedom I so desperately craved. And Taylor, for reasons I had never understood, had agreed.

Taylor didn't flinch. She simply leaned back in her high-backed leather chair, folding her hands neatly over her desk. A cold, dangerous smile touched the corners of her lips a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"If you have nothing of actual substance to say, get out," she repeated, her tone dangerously calm.

"No!" I slammed my hand down on her desk, the impact sending a small stack of papers fluttering to the floor. "Taylor, I'm warning you don't touch Sophia! She's my wife!"