Chapter 212 Warning

Chapter 212 Warning

The line went dead with a sharp click, cut off without ceremony.

Sylvia lowered the phone, a bitter amusement settling in her chest.

These pathetic little games. Only someone like Skylar, who thought herself so clever, would mistake them for winning moves.

She pocketed her phone, that cold smile still lingering on her lips. Then she turned and nearly jumped.

A pair of wide, innocent eyes stared up at her.

Garth had woken up somehow, standing barefoot behind her in his pajamas, rubbing sleep from his face with one small fist.

"Mommy, who were you talking to?" His voice was sweet and drowsy. His little face scrunched with confusion. "Why were you talking about uncle's stamina?"

Those clear, curious eyes fixed on her, and Sylvia's stomach dropped.

Damn it.

But her face stayed smooth. She bent down and scooped him up, improvising on the spot. "I was talking to a very silly lady who tried to play a game with me. She lost and would not admit it, so I had to set her straight."

"Oh..." Garth nodded slowly, not quite understanding but already losing interest.

He wrapped his arms around her neck and nuzzled against her shoulder. "Mommy, I want another story."

"Of course, baby." Sylvia carried Garth back toward the hospital room, but in the back of her mind, she was adding another mark next to Henry's name.

Perfect. Just perfect, Henry.

He could not keep track of his own damn phone, and now she had wasted her night dealing with some desperate woman. Worse, her son had almost overheard things he had no business hearing.

She would settle that score when she got back.

Meanwhile, at the top floor of the Smith Group headquarters, in the CEO's office, something shattered.

The latest model phone hit the polished marble floor with a sickening crack, splintering into pieces.

Skylar could not hold the mask anymore. Her chest heaved, her face twisted with rage and humiliation, drained of all color.

Sylvia's cold, surgical words had cut through her like poisoned blades, shredding her pride and her schemes into nothing.

How dare she? How dare she humiliate me like that?

Hatred and frustration churned in her chest, threatening to tear her apart from the inside.

She gripped the edge of the desk, gasping for air, her vision swimming, a sharp metallic taste rising in her throat.

The office door swung open.

Henry had just finished a late-night international video conference, exhaustion etched into the lines of his face. When he saw Skylar, pale as a ghost and barely able to stand, his brow furrowed slightly.

"What's wrong with you?" His voice was flat, detached. No warmth, no concern.

Skylar flinched at the sound, snapping back to herself. She quickly buried the venom twisting her features and replaced it with a fragile, wounded expression.

She pressed a hand to her chest, shaking her head weakly. Her voice came out barely above a whisper. "It's nothing. I did not sleep well last night. I'm just tired."

She pushed a neatly organized stack of documents toward him, forcing a soft, gentle smile. "I noticed your desk was a mess, so I tidied it up for you."

Henry's gaze flicked to the papers for a split second, then away. His tone was polite but firm. "Thanks. But don't do that again. This is the office. It's not appropriate for you to keep coming here."

The dismissal hit her like a slap.

The blood drained from her face. Her eyes welled up, her voice trembling. "Are you... are you tired of me? Do you think I'm a burden?"

Any other man might have softened.

Henry just felt annoyed. He forced himself to stay patient. "You're reading too much into it. I'm just trying to avoid unnecessary misunderstandings."

He walked past her to his desk, sat down, and opened his laptop, clearly done with the conversation.

"I've got a lot of work to finish. You should go home and rest."

Cold. Businesslike. Final.

It extinguished whatever hope Skylar had been clinging to.

She dug her nails into her palms, barely holding herself together. Before leaving, she tried one last probe. "Ms. Brooks... where did she go? I wanted to explain about the breakfast thing. I don't want her to get the wrong idea."

She needed to know where Sylvia was. The plan from last night had missed its target. She needed another shot.

Henry did not look up from the screen. "She took Garth on a trip."

Skylar's heart sank.

She bit her lip, her voice laced with false guilt. "Oh... did she leave because I came back? Is Ms. Brooks avoiding me?"

Henry stopped typing.

He looked up, his eyes dark and cold. "First of all, she's not avoiding you. She just does not want to see you. Second, where my wife goes is none of your business. Especially not yours."

He paused, his gaze cutting through her like ice. "And about the breakfast? She did not misunderstand anything. She did not even care. Skylar, I need you to understand your place."

The words were sharper than any insult. More brutal than any accusation.

They ripped away her carefully crafted vulnerability and laid her motives bare.

Skylar's body trembled. Her nails bit deeper into her palms, leaving crescent-shaped marks.

She clenched her jaw to keep from breaking down.

Tears pooled in her eyes. Her voice cracked. "I was just worried about Ms. Brooks. I did not mean anything by it..."

Henry did not even glance at her. He turned back to his screen and said flatly, "Get out."

Skylar froze, her expression barely holding.

Finally, she forced a smile, worse than crying, and turned toward the door.

The moment it closed behind her, the pitiful mask shattered.

She stumbled into the empty elevator, staring at her reflection in the mirrored walls. Her face was twisted with jealousy, unrecognizable.

She could not hold it in anymore. A low, strangled sound tore from her throat, half scream, half sob.