Chapter 56: The Morning After (a.k.a. The Storm Walks In Heels)

The light streaming through the tall windows of the penthouse felt almost offensive.

Katherine Brown blinked at the ceiling. It took her a second to remember where she was.

Then it hit her.

Sebastian’s bed.

Sebastian’s city.

Sebastian’s absence.

She sat up sharply, the silk sheet slipping down her shoulders. The other side of the bed was perfectly made — untouched. Her heart thudded with something between confusion and fury.

“Seriously?” she muttered, shoving her legs off the mattress and grabbing her phone.

One missed call from Chloe. Two texts from her sister. Nothing from him.

She hit the dial.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Mason.”

His voice was clipped. Professional. Background noise buzzed — typing, murmurs, a printer.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Are you in the office?”

“Yes.”

A pause.

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

“How considerate,” she said, her tone sweet as venom.

“Just curious — is that your new way of making amends? Leaving a woman in your bed while you go play Empire?”

No answer.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there shortly. Wouldn’t want your employees to think I died of neglect.”

She hung up.

Then she stood, wrapped herself in his oversized robe, and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

Disheveled. Barefaced. Messy hair.

Perfect.

“Let’s give them a show.”

And with that, she dressed in black, slid on the sharpest heels she owned, and stormed out the door — ready to destroy a billionaire before breakfast.

---

She didn’t do makeup.

She didn’t do hair.

She did war.

Katherine Brown zipped up her black dress like she was suiting up for combat. No jewelry. No fragrance. Only the fire in her chest and the heels that clicked like a countdown to destruction.

She stormed to the elevator, jabbed the button, arms crossed tight.

“Left me in your bed like a damn afterthought?”

Her thoughts raced, sharp and fast.

“Did I ask for roses and thrones? No. I asked for you. And you left.”

The elevator door slid open. She stepped in, eyes locked forward like she was entering enemy territory.

Taxi. Fast.

Driver tried to make small talk. She shut it down with a single glance.

Inside the car, her mind boiled:

“I stayed. I stayed for him. For the first time in my life, I put someone else's quiet above my noise. And what did he do? Woke up, suited up, and walked out like I was an item on a checklist.”

“Sebastian. Bloody. Mason. If you thought I was loud before, just wait.”

The moment she saw the towering glass building of Mason EquityGroup, her pulse doubled.

The cab screeched to a stop. She was out before the driver finished the receipt.

Storm. On. Heels.

She didn’t slow down. The glass doors nearly flew off the hinges as she strode into the lobby.

Receptionist: “Ma’am, you can’t just —”

Katherine: “Watch me.”

Two assistants scrambled to intercept her as she approached the private elevator.

“Miss Brown, please — Mr. Mason’s in a meeting —”

She spun around mid-step, fire in her gaze.

“Then cancel the meeting. Or tell him I’m staging a coup.”

Silence.

The elevator dinged. She stepped in. Pressed the top floor.

And smiled, a dangerous kind of smile.

Because if Sebastian Mason wanted silence —

He was about to get the loudest apology in corporate history.

---

The doors to Sebastian Mason’s office swung open with a dramatic force that made the outer hallway staff freeze mid-motion. One assistant actually gasped. Another dropped her coffee.

But Katherine Brown didn’t pause.

She didn’t knock.

She didn’t ask.

She entered — like a thunderstorm in heels.

And then —

She stopped.

He was behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, collar open, tie gone. Papers scattered in front of him, laptop glowing, pen in his hand mid-sentence.

He looked up.

And for the first time in a long time, his expression wasn’t composed, calculated, or distant.

It was raw. Quiet. And focused entirely on her.

She blinked.

Her mouth opened.

Closed.

Because there — right in front of him, on the wide oak desk — was a colossal bouquet. No red roses or overpriced orchids. No empty elegance. Just her favorites.

Messy. Wild. Honest.

Peonies. Sunflowers. A few daffodils, even though it was off-season. And those tiny white blooms she once mumbled about liking, thinking no one was listening.

She frowned. Stepped forward like the ground wasn’t quite steady.

“What… the hell is this?”

Her voice cracked at the edges, just slightly. Fury clashed with confusion in her chest.

Sebastian stood up slowly, never breaking eye contact.

“You once said flowers are useless,” he said, voice lower than usual. Hoarse, like he hadn't slept.

“But I think... some useless things might matter the most.”

The silence that followed wasn’t cold.

It wasn’t sharp.

It was weighty. Vulnerable.

Katherine’s hand trembled by her side, fingers flexing like they weren’t sure whether to hit him… or hold on.

She wanted to yell. To accuse. To remind him of the hell of waking up alone in someone else’s fortress of glass and quiet.

But instead —

Her eyes fell to the bouquet.

And just for a second —

She softened.

Only for a second.

Then she looked up again and said, “You still left.”

---

Katherine didn’t leave.

Not right away.

She hovered for a second longer, gaze locked on him, searching for any trace of the man who had walked out on her that morning… and maybe every morning before that in a dozen invisible ways.

But what she saw now wasn’t armor.

It wasn’t arrogance or control.

It was... effort. Clumsy, almost painful effort.

Sebastian didn’t speak. He didn’t rush forward with apologies or speeches — which, for him, was already monumental. He simply stood there. Waiting. Letting her breathe.

And it worked.

Her shoulders dropped, only slightly. The tension didn’t vanish, but it cracked enough to let something else through.

Still staring, she walked toward the chair opposite his desk.

And sat down.

Her arms folded, legs crossed — defensive posture fully engaged — but she stayed.

Sebastian didn’t sit. He stayed standing, unsure if moving would break the fragile moment or rebuild the wall she just let down.

The silence between them stretched.

Not awkward.

Not angry.

Just heavy.

Like both of them were holding things they didn’t know how to say.

Katherine glanced at the bouquet again. The colors felt too bright for this cold office, for this usually cold man. It was… jarring. Human. Unexpected.

He’s trying, she thought.

He’s actually trying.

And that truth — raw and ridiculous — almost made her eyes burn.

She blinked the feeling away before it reached the surface.

When she finally looked up at him again, she found his gaze already waiting. Not intense. Not calculating. Just… open.

And for the first time since the gala, maybe for the first time ever, Sebastian Mason didn’t look like the untouchable man on the cover of Fortune.

He looked like a man who was scared to lose something he finally realized he needed.

Her.

Katherine let out a slow, unsteady breath.

Still no smile. Still no forgiveness.

But the war zone had quieted.

Just a little.

And maybe that was enough — for now.

---

The silence that hung between them was no longer the suffocating kind. It was tense, yes — but no longer unbearable.

Like standing at the edge of something not yet broken, but not quite healed.

Katherine tapped her nails against the arm of the chair. Slowly. Thoughtfully. Then, finally, her voice cut through the stillness:

“So… what’s the next dumb thing you’ve planned?”

She didn’t smile.

She didn’t lean in.

He didn’t offer forgiveness.

But she didn’t walk away, either.

Sebastian exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding. A faint, almost invisible smile pulled at the corner of his lips.

“Something that doesn’t involve making you CEO.”

Her eyes narrowed, just enough to remind him that she was still dangerously close to murder.

“I swear to God, Mason, if you —”

He held up his hands in mock surrender.

“No titles. No thrones. Just…”

He paused, looking away for half a second, as if rehearsing the words.

“…a rooftop. And a lot of candles.”

She blinked. The suspicion didn’t leave her eyes, but something else flickered through.

Curiosity.

A tiny ember of hope.

Sebastian reached for the bouquet on his desk — peonies, sunflowers, wildflowers, and those ridiculous purple things she once claimed reminded her of “chaotic joy.”

He held them out to her.

She hesitated for the briefest moment, then took them. Not delicately — more like she was accepting a challenge. Or maybe a promise.

She turned to leave.

But before she could make it to the door, his voice stopped her.

“Wait.”

And when she turned, he was already there.

No warning. No hesitation. Just him, closing the distance between them like gravity had finally remembered how to work.

He kissed her.

Not the kind of kiss that apologizes. Not the kind that begs.

But the kind that knows.

Knows it almost lost everything.

Knows it still might.

It was slow, warm, heartbreakingly tender — and then deeper, like all the things he hadn’t said were pouring into her through the only way he knew how.

She let herself fall into it, just for a second.

Just long enough to make the entire office freeze.

Because yes — the doors were still open. The assistants still watching. The staff still whispering. The world still turning.

But in that moment?

Neither of them cared.

Not anymore.

---