Chapter 548 Jacob, Lost Is Lost!
"Jacob, no one will wait for you forever in Vesper City." Those words had carved themselves into Jacob's very bones.
For the rest of his life, even in moments of domestic bliss, he would find himself haunted in the quiet hours of night—longing for the reckless passion of youth, mourning that pure, untainted love he'd once known.
In the Windsor Group's boardroom, Jacob found his mind wandering for the second time that morning. Anya leaned over discreetly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Mr. Windsor, do you have any thoughts on Mr. Voss's proposal?"
Jacob snapped back to the present, his gaze settling on Theron across the polished mahogany table. Even in his impeccable three-piece suit, Jacob could picture last night's intimate scenes all too clearly. 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder,' he thought bitterly, a cold smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Now he was certain—Nicole's return to Evergreen City bore Theron's fingerprints. The man had orchestrated everything, ensuring Nicole would have her closure with Jacob before settling into her role as Mrs. Voss permanently.
The tension between the two rivals was palpable. Their respective teams sat frozen, avoiding eye contact with their superiors, desperately trying to blend into the furniture.
The initial negotiations concluded unsatisfactorily. When the vast boardroom emptied, leaving only the two men, silence descended like a shroud.
Theron broke the stillness first. "I know about your history with Nicole. Eight years ago, I saw you both at a gala abroad." He paused, studying Jacob's impassive face. "The truth is, Nicole and I lived as strangers for two years. What finally brought us together was her return home—and your subsequent meetings. It was your pride, Jacob, your refusal to swallow that blue-blooded arrogance and fight for a woman who loved you desperately."
"If you'd truly wanted her, you would have found her." Theron's voice carried quiet conviction. "Perhaps she still carries a torch for you—childhood bonds run deep. But I'm her husband. I have her for life. Decades from now, our names will be carved together on the same headstone." His smile was gentle, almost pitying. "Love isn't about who came first—it's about perfect timing."
"Is that so?" Jacob remained seated at the head of the table, his black and white suit immaculate, his expression glacial as he regarded the older man. "Marriage can end in divorce. What makes you so confident she'll grow old with you?"
"My devotion." Theron's response was immediate. "Jacob, I assume you've seen her recently. But remember this—Nicole isn't just my wife. She's your family's adopted daughter, and a woman you once truly cared for. Tormenting a woman doesn't make you a man."
Theron crushed his cigarette in the crystal ashtray and gathered his briefcase. As his hand closed around the door handle, Jacob's voice cut through the silence, deceptively casual. "Mr. Voss, you're a businessman. Let's discuss terms. What would it take for you to divorce her?"
Theron's steps faltered. Without turning, his grip tightened on the handle as he smiled faintly. "Jacob, love and marriage aren't commodities. What's lost is lost. If money could buy it back, it was never real love to begin with."
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Jacob alone with his thoughts. Eventually, he moved to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Below, the Windsor Group's architectural empire stretched toward the clouds—a testament to ambition realized. The twin 128-story towers he'd commissioned stood as Evergreen City's newest landmarks, housing eighteen thousand employees. The conglomerate's market value had reached four hundred billion dollars.
At thirty, Jacob had achieved everything he'd dreamed of. He'd tripled the Windsor Group's size, with expansion continuing at a breathtaking pace. Yet he'd lost the one thing that mattered most.
A metallic taste filled his mouth. Blood splattered against the pristine glass as he doubled over, clutching his abdomen.
Anya burst through the door, her face draining of color. "Mr. Windsor! What's wrong?" She rushed to his side, her voice thick with concern.
Jacob waved her away weakly, sweat beading on his forehead. "I'm fine."
Anya had worked alongside him for years, witnessing his relentless drive firsthand. Her voice cracked with emotion. "Fine? Dr. Montague warned you about this! You're killing yourself, and for what?" She couldn't finish the thought, but Jacob understood—all his sacrifices, and he'd still lost Nicole.
'What was the point?' he thought bitterly.
In the car, Anya instructed the driver to head to Montague Group Hospital. Jacob sat pale and silent in the backseat, his gaze fixed on the passing cityscape. When they drove past an amusement park, the Ferris wheel turned lazily against the sky, carrying delighted screams on the wind.
The memory struck him like a physical blow—four years ago in Seaul, watching another Ferris wheel while Nicole refused to see him. Sharp pain lanced through his chest as he whispered, "Did she stay away because she thought I didn't love her? Did she marry him because she thought I didn't love her? Won't she leave him because she thinks I don't love her?"
"Mr. Windsor..." Anya's voice was helpless.
Jacob wasn't seeking an answer—not from her. The only person who could provide that response was the woman he'd failed so completely.
He'd been consumed by work, blinded by his own assumptions. He'd viewed Nicole as dependent on him, her art merely a pleasant diversion while he shouldered the real responsibility of providing for their future. His relentless ambition had consumed every waking hour.
He'd never considered that this wasn't what she wanted.
Even thinking her name was agony now. She'd become a wound that wouldn't heal. If she'd never returned, perhaps he could have found peace in an ordinary life—marriage, children, quiet contentment. But she had come back, as another man's wife.
At Montague Group Hospital, Jacob lay motionless on the examination table while Taylor studied the monitors with professional focus.
Taylor was the best surgeon in the country and the head of the Montague Group Hospital. She had always been responsible for the health of the Windsor and Taylor family members.
"Jacob, turn slightly to your left." Her phone buzzed—a text from her husband Samuel canceling dinner again. Taylor stared at the message before tucking the device away. 'He's with her again,' she thought bitterly. When confronted, Samuel always dismissed her concerns as paranoia, claiming he was simply helping an old classmate. His irritation at her questions only confirmed her suspicions. Taylor found herself questioning whether their marriage was worth salvaging.
After the examination, Jacob slowly buttoned his shirt, wincing slightly. "Samuel's been staying out late frequently?"
Taylor nodded curtly, clearly unwilling to elaborate. She examined his CT scans before meeting his eyes. "Your liver can't take much more abuse, Jacob. You need to start taking care of yourself. Don't forget the medication I'm prescribing."
"I'm not that fragile." Jacob dismissed her concern, slipping on his shoes and glancing around. "Where's Anya?"