You stormed into the sleek, glass-walled conference room, your heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. The tension in the room thickened as all eyes turned to you—some in shock, others in barely concealed irritation. The air reeked of power plays and corporate arrogance, but you weren’t here for business.

“I’m sorry, I—” you started, but before she could finish, his voice cut through the silence like a blade.

“You have ten seconds to get the fuck out of this conference room.”

His tone was cold, commanding—one that left no room for negotiation.

A stunned silence followed. The suited men exchanged glances before shuffling to gather their things. One of them hesitated, his brow furrowing.

“I understand,” you muttered, stepping back instinctively.

But then, his gaze softened—just slightly.

“Not you. Never you. Them.”

Your breath hitched. The weight of his words sent something unfamiliar twisting in your chest.

“B-But I—” The businessmen were already rising, their chairs scraping against the floor as they filed out, casting curious glances your way.

And then, as if this were the most natural thing in the world, he leaned back in his chair, phone pressed to his ear. His next words sent your mind reeling.

“I’ll call you back. My fiancée is here.”

Click.

Your jaw nearly hit the floor as he hung up.