Chapter 121

Chapter 121

Brandon froze in place, his arms falling limply to his sides.

Harper smoothed out her rumpled collar and walked toward the living room, retrieving the first aid kit.

"Sit," she instructed, gesturing toward the couch with a businesslike tone.

Brandon collapsed onto the sofa like a soulless puppet, utterly defeated.

Harper opened the kit, pulling out iodine and cotton swabs. With practiced efficiency, she peeled away the old gauze from his forehead.

The wound wasn't deep, but the skin around it had grown inflamed and swollen.

She disinfected and dressed it with detached precision, her movements gentle yet mechanical.

"What you're doing right now—it's pathetic," Harper said flatly as she applied the antiseptic, as though discussing a stranger's affairs. "You think this pain you're feeling, this desperation—you think it's because you love me?"

Brandon lifted his bloodshot eyes, staring at her with hollow intensity.

"It's not." A faint, mocking smile touched Harper's lips. "You're just used to having someone waiting for you at home these past three years. Used to my obedience, my devotion. Now, your little possession is slipping out of your control, and you can't stand it. It's wounded pride, Brandon. Bruised ego. Nothing more."

She pressed a fresh bandage against his temple, looking down at him from above. "You don't love me. You love yourself. The feelings are dead. So let go. Let us both move on and stop torturing each other."

After securing the final strip of tape, Harper didn't spare him another glance. She packed up the kit and walked back to the guest bedroom without a word.

The living room fell into deathly silence. Brandon sat alone on the couch, the dull throb in his forehead a pale shadow of the agony tearing through his chest.

She'd dissected him with surgical precision, leaving him no room to argue.

He buried his face in his hands, his tall frame trembling slightly under the dim lamplight, his eyes hollow with desolation.

 

Over the following days, Harper buried herself in work at Starlight Building.

She left early and returned late. Though they lived under the same roof, they exchanged not a single word. Every time Brandon tried to speak, her cold, retreating figure cut him off before he could begin.

On a quiet weekend morning, Harper received a call from her real estate agent—the paperwork for her penthouse was finalized. She could move in.

When Missy heard the news, she canceled every society event on her calendar and showed up at Harper's new place without hesitation.

"Harper, this is your queen's palace now!" Missy stood in the spacious, empty living room, sweeping her arm dramatically through the air. "Whatever you need, just say the word. Today's shopping spree? On me!"

Harper laughed at her friend's grandiose gesture and tried to refuse, but Missy was already on her phone, speed-dialing luxury furniture brands.

The entire day became a parade of deliveries.

From buttery Italian leather sofas to state-of-the-art smart home systems, from fine bone china to plush cashmere rugs—Missy spared no expense.

By evening, the once-barren penthouse had been transformed into a warm, sophisticated sanctuary.

After the last installer left, Missy collapsed onto the new sofa, grinning at Harper. "Well? Does my interior design taste live up to expectations?"

"Thank you, Missy." Harper handed her a glass of water, her eyes brimming with genuine gratitude.

"Don't be silly." Missy waved her off, surveying the space with satisfaction. "As long as you're happy here, that's all that matters."

When night fell and Missy finally left, the apartment settled into stillness.

Harper stood alone in the spacious living room.

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Rosewood City's skyline glittered like scattered jewels, rivers of headlights flowing through the streets below. Inside, warm amber light from the standing lamp pooled on the soft carpet. Every piece of furniture, every detail—chosen by her, for her.

Harper drew in a deep breath, and for the first time in years, a genuine smile softened her face.

Looking around this space that belonged entirely to her, she felt the tension that had gripped her for three years finally release its hold. A profound sense of peace and security settled into her bones.

 

One week later, at Starlight Building's studio.

The three haute couture gowns commissioned by Abigail were complete.

Every stitch of embroidery, every line of tailoring reflected Harper's meticulous care. The minimalist designs carried a quiet, enduring elegance.

That afternoon, a discreet black SUV pulled up outside Starlight Building.

Chase stepped through the studio doors, dressed in his usual sharp dark utility jacket, exuding the razor-edged intensity of someone forged in combat zones. Staff members couldn't help but glance his way.

"Ms. Anderson, excellent work." Chase approached the display area, his deep-set eyes flickering with undisguised admiration.

His fingers brushed lightly over the delicate patterns embroidered into the fabric. He turned to Harper, his voice carrying genuine praise. "This craftsmanship, this vision—it surpasses even the top ateliers I've seen in Europe. Ms. Anderson, you're not only extraordinarily talented but also remarkably efficient. No wonder my mother can't stop singing your praises."

"You're too kind, Mr. Rodriguez. I'm just glad Mrs. Rodriguez is pleased." Harper smiled politely, her composure unwavering.

Chase studied her calm, confident demeanor, his appreciation deepening. The Rodriguez family's influence extended far beyond politics—their commercial empire included a prestigious fashion conglomerate currently undergoing a major restructuring.

"Given your exceptional abilities, Ms. Anderson, would you be interested in collaborating with the Rodriguez family?" Chase, never one to waste time, extended the offer directly. "Vista Apparel, one of our subsidiaries, is seeking a new lead design team. Starlight Building fits our criteria perfectly."

Harper's eyes brightened. Vista Apparel's distribution network and financial backing were second to none in Rosewood City.

She didn't hesitate. "It would be an honor for Starlight Building to partner with Vista Apparel."

 

Two days later, the signing ceremony was held at Vista Apparel headquarters.

Under the flash of cameras, Harper wore an impeccably tailored white blazer cinched at the waist, her hair swept back in a sleek updo. Her refined features radiated confidence and poise.

She shook hands with the tall, commanding Chase, and the image of them standing side by side was captured instantly by the media.

By that afternoon, the news had topped the business and fashion sections across Rosewood City.

 

At the Martinez Group executive office.

Brandon sat behind his massive desk, eyes locked on the news article displayed on his computer screen.

In the photograph, Harper shone—radiant, self-assured, exuding a brilliance he'd never seen in her before.