Chapter 6
Clinton paced the length of the living room, the cold glow of his phone screen the only light in the suffocating dark. He had dialed Chloe’s number so many times that the digits were burned into his vision, even when he squeezed his eyes shut.
He needed to calm down. He couldn’t afford to break down now-couldn’t let her win. If he broke
it would mean Chloe had power over him. And she shouldn’t. She never should.
“This is just one of her games,” he muttered to the empty house, voice hoarse. “She wants me to run after her. She wants me to beg.”
He forced a bitter laugh. It echoed off the bare walls-walls that still smelled faintly of her perfume, stubborn and soft in places he didn’t want it to be.
His fingers flew over his phone screen, typing out a message before he could think twice: Come home. Stop this drama. You can’t just run away like this.
He hesitated, then deleted it-then wrote it again, this time colder: Come home now. Or you’ll regret it.
He tossed the phone onto the couch, dragging a hand through his hair. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a memory flickered-unbidden, unwelcome.
It was from a year ago. A fight. Chloe had accused him of sleeping with one of his assistants. She’d stormed out into the rainy night, trembling with jealousy and heartbreak. He’d let her go then, too-furious that she’d dare question him. But by dawn, she had come back, soaked to the bone, eyes swollen and red. She’d whispered I’m sorry like it was her penance, curled up next to
im like she never really left.
So maybe this was the same. She always came back, didn’t she? He’d taught her to come back. She was just waiting for him to chase her, to open the door so she could crawl in and apologize again.
Clinton let out a breath, nodding to no one. “She’ll be back. She can’t win.”
His thoughts shattered when the front door slammed open, the cold wind bringing in the sharp scent of Alynna’s perfume. She stood there, arms crossed over her swollen stomach, eyes blazing.
‘Are you out of your mind?” she snapped. “You left me there! Alone! What if something happened to the baby?”
Clinton barely looked at her. “But you’re here, aren’t you?”
Alynna’s lips parted in disbelief. “What is wrong with you? Aren’t you happy? She’s gone! It’s just us now. We can finally be happy.”
She stepped forward, her fingers brushing his arm, tracing up to his jaw. She tilted her face, lips parted-waiting for him to meet her halfway.
But the kiss never came.
Clinton jerked away, his eyes wild. “No. This isn’t right. She shouldn’t have left me. She was never supposed to leave. Now my grandfather’s humiliated me. He-”
“So what?” Alynna snapped, frustration twisting her pretty features into something meaner. “We
4:25 pm
don’t need him. You have your own company. We can get married now-start over. We don’t nee anyone else.”
Clinton laughed then-low, bitter, sharp. “Still. My inheritance. My position. You think your baby is enough to fix this? That you’re enough to fix this?”
Alynna recoiled, her nails digging into her palm. “What the hell are you saying? Are you ever listening to yourself?”
But Clinton wasn’t listening. His mind was spinning in circles-her absence, the empty closet the echo of her last words. I’m no longer your wife. It rattled around in his chest, a ghost he couldn’t chase away.
Alynna’s voice dropped to a shaky whisper. “Do you… do you still love her?”
He looked at her then, really looked-at her painted lips, the silk robe sliding off her shoulder, the soft curve of her belly that was supposed to bind him to her forever. For a heartbeat, the answe almost rose to his lips. But he swallowed it down.
“No,” he bit out, voice like gravel. “I don’t love her. She thinks she’s clever-running away like this But she’ll come back. And when she does, she’ll pay for it.”
Alynna flinched. “Clinton…”
He grabbed her wrist, pulling her flush against him. His mouth found hers, harsh and demanding like he could bury that gnawing ache somewhere between their teeth. “It’s only you,” he lied against her lips. “Only you. Forever.”
Alynna kissed him back, desperate, nails digging into his shoulders like she could anchor hersel to the promise. But deep in the hollow space between his ribs, something bled quietly- something he couldn’t name.
When they finally broke apart, Clinton’s eyes drifted over Alynna’s shoulder, settling on the framed photo still sitting on the hallway table. Chloe, smiling soft and small, her hair tucked behind her ear like she’d been shy even for the camera.
He wondered, for just a second, where she was now. Whether she was alone or with that man- Nathan. Whether she was crying, or smiling, or free in a way he’d never let her be:
The thought made him clench his jaw so hard it ached.
Alynna traced the line of his cheek with her finger. “She’s gone now, Clinton. She can’t hurt u anymore.”
He forced a smirk, leaning in close. “No. She’ll come crawling back. She always does. And wher she does…” His voice dropped to a low hiss. “She’ll see what happens to people who think they
can humiliate me.”
Alynna hesitated, her eyes searching his for an ounce of warmth that wasn’t there. A beat of silence passed between them. Then she kissed him again, softer this time-trying to mold him back into the man she thought she’d won.
But even with her lips pressed to his, Clinton felt that emptiness clawing at his insides. A heavy sour ache that no rage or vengeance could drown out.
He would tell himself it was anger. Pride. Betrayal.
But maybe, somewhere buried deep in that cracked heart of his, it was just Chloe’s absence
212 25.89
4:25 pm
