“I-“I was just about to say I felt a bit tired when the call abruptly ended.
Ryan turned to me. “Do you have another meeting tonight?”
I shook my head. “I’m not sure. He didn’t say.”
Although I barely touched the food on the table, the atmosphere felt just right. I didn’t want to ruin it. I opened WhatsApp to decline Luther’s invitation, but Ryan spoke up.
“Don’t reject him,” he said. “What if it’s about my promotion?”
The fleeting fantasy I had just let myself believe in came crashing down.
“Is your promotion all you ever think about? Can’t you tell I’m worn out? I don’t want to go. I just want one quiet night at home.”
Ryan instantly took my hand, his voice soft as he tried to comfort me. “I’m sorry, baby. This is my fault. If I were doing better, you wouldn’t have to ask Mr. Stone for anything. But with where we are now, our options are limited.”
He moved behind me, his hands gently kneading the tension from my shoulders.
Leaning close, Ryan murmured into my ear, “Since Mr. Stone called you personally, it must be important. Once I get that promotion, I’m confident I’ll land the branch manager position. After that, you won’t have to carry so much on your shoulders.”
Honestly, when Luther asked me to go, I couldn’t bring myself to say no.
Not for Ryan, but because of the debt my family owed–a debt Luther had helped settle. I owed him more than I could ever repay, and saying no wasn’t an option.
Besides, Ryan was pulling me back into a marriage shadowed by guilt and obligation.
They said the hardships a woman faced after marriage were the consequences of unwise choices made beforehand.
I used to think I was clear–headed. But over time, I realized how much my judgment had blurred.
Soon, the car pulled up in front of The Nook. Just as I reached for the door handle, Ryan grabbed my hand.
“Baby, about that other thing, just make sure you don’t miss your chance.”
Don’t miss my chance?
For an infertile man, his obsession with having a child was utterly ridiculous.
I snapped, unable to hide my frustration. “He always uses protection. What exactly do you want me to do?”
With a sly glint in his eye, Ryan tapped my brooch and whispered, “Use this to tear a hole in the condom.”
I was left speechless. So that was the real reason he insisted I wear the brooch.
“This is all I’ll ever be in this life. But if I could have a child with you, it would make everything feel complete. It doesn’t matter whose child it is,” Ryan pleaded, his voice trembling with desperation.
“As long as you get pregnant, I’ll raise the child as my own. Go on, Sapphire… I know it’s hard. Thank you for everything,”
But with every thank you, a quiet resentment grew inside me.
I couldn’t keep it in any longer. “Do you really not mind raising someone else’s child?”
Ryan lowered his head, helplessness etched across his face. “Baby… I’m not a real man. J–I know that. Sometimes, I can’t even stand myself…”
He pulled me close and wept quietly, his sorrow stirring a bittersweet ache deep in my chest.
“Alright, don’t cry.” I gently stroked his back, guilt heavy on my chest. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
What man would willingly carry the weight of betrayal?
Looking at it from his point of view, I realized Ryan wasn’t someone who didn’t mind raising another man’s child. He simply refused to accept the truth.
He was proud and fiercely protective of his image. He would never let anyone know he was infertile. Instead, he clung to pretense, masking the reality behind a polished facade.
Just as I turned to leave, Ryan pulled me back into his arms, holding me tight.
“Don’t forget what matters inost,” he whispered.
Seeing the urgency in his eyes, I understood just how much he wanted me to get pregnant.
As I opened the door to the private lounge, Luther sat there, calmly sipping his tea. The instant I stepped in, his eyes captured me, slowly scanning every inch of my body.
To catch Luther’s attention, Ryan picked out a daringly short black dress for me. As I slipped off my coat, my pale legs were fully exposed, and I found myself nervously tugging at the skirt’s hem.
As I settled into the seat, Luther rested a hand on my thigh. “So, how did you get here?” he asked.
Chapter 7
23
I kept my eyes averted. “I took a taxi.”
He raised an eyebrow slightly, quietly encouraging me to speak the truth.
My gaze drifted to the window, where the main entrance stood in plain view. He definitely saw Ryan drop me off.
I lowered my head. “He gave me a ride.”
“You still don’t get it, do you?”
Luther’s voice held its usual frustration, but beneath it lingered an unexpected gentleness.
He carefully refilled my tea and said, “It’s cold out there. Drink this. It’ll warm you up.”
“Thanks,” I murmured, lifting the cup to my lips.
So, have you had a chance to think about what I mentioned?”
His question caught me off guard.
“What was it again?”
“When we said goodbye at the airport, I told you to get a divorce. Do you remember?”
“Umm.” I stammered, “About that…”
For a moment, I was lost for words. He didn’t press me further. My eyes fell on the teacup resting on the table as I drifted into thought.
The white porcelain was smooth and delicate, its gentle glow warm and inviting–much like Luther himself, refined and impeccably poised.
He draped his hand casually over the back of my chair. “Tomorrow, you’ll file for a divorce from Ryan.”
His voice brooked no argument. It was an order.
“Mr. Stone, I’m afraid I can’t agree to that.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him shifting closer, leaning in. “I don’t get it. What does he have that’s worth holding on to?” he asked.
I didn’t get it either. Why was Luther so hellbent on making me let go of my marriage?
“Mr. Stone, I’m nothing more than a passing figure in your life. I know exactly where I stand. Right now, you’re caught up in the novelty. There’s no reason to make things harder for me,” I said firmly.
“Besides, if I divorced Ryan, it might be easier for you. I’d be at your beck and call. But what about me?
“Beyond the label of a divorced woman, I have no family here. It was Ryan who gave me a stable home and cared for me in every way. I can’t just walk away from that.”
I wasn’t saying this to sway Luther’s feelings. I wanted to remind him that he couldn’t unravel my marriage on a whim.
My response was exactly what he expected. Without a flicker of emotion, he refilled my teacup, letting it spill over the rim.
I glanced at him, startled. “Mr. Stone, the tea…”
He cut me off. “People are like this teacup. There’s only so much they can hold.”
At that moment, I realized he saw me as that fragile cup–a subtle reminder to be mindful of my own limits.
“Sapphire,” Luther said, setting the teapot down and slowly wiping his hands with a napkin. “If you can’t get the divorce yourself, I’ll find a way to make it happen.”
“I…” Before I could protest, he raised a hand and locked eyes with me. “You’re holding on to a sexless marriage. Who are you really trying to fool? What does Ryan give you besides holding you back?”
“Love,” I said impulsively.
At the sound of the word, his lips curved into a faint, almost sorrowful smile–not mocking but weighted with pity. It was as if he were someone powerless to stop another from falling apart.
“Do you really think Ryan loves you?”
I nodded without hesitation. “Yes.”
He motioned toward my phone. “Call him. Have him come get you.”
For some reason, I did as he said. Maybe my earlier refusal had annoyed him, causing him to brush me off so abruptly.
I called Ryan and told him to come get me. He didn’t say much, but there was a hint of irritation in his voice.
I slipped on my coat and made for the door. Luther followed quietly behind me.
The night air was crisp as we stood there. Without a word, Luther slipped my hand into the pocket of his coat. Just as I began to pull away, his grip tightened, holding me in place.
“Mr. Stone,” I whispered, looking around nervously, “Someone might see us.”
He glanced down at me, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You’re more concerned about being seen than I am, aren’t you?”
Chapter 7
3.3
His teasing caught me off guard.
“If a client saw you being too close to a married woman, it could cause problems for the company,” I explained.
“So, tell me. Are you worried about me, or are you just scared?”
There was no way I would admit I was scared of being seen by someone I knew. That would only bring more trouble.
“I’m worried about you,” I finally said.
Luther saw right through me but didn’t call me out. “Don’t worry about it. In the business world, none of that matters. People only care about profits.”
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