Chapter 132

Chapter 132

Brandon said nothing. His grip was forceful yet carefully controlled to avoid injuring her as he shoved her into the elevator and jabbed the button for the top floor.

He dragged her into the penthouse, slammed the security door shut, and locked it.

Harper was thrown against the entryway wall.

She gasped for air, fury staining her cool eyes crimson.

She glared at the man before her, grinding out through clenched teeth, "Brandon, this is unlawful confinement! What gives you the right to trap me here?"

"I just want to talk." Brandon's towering frame blocked the door like an insurmountable wall.

His bloodshot eyes locked onto hers, his voice so hoarse it was nearly shattered. "Harper, let's get back together. Please."

"Please?" Harper found it utterly absurd. She let out a cold laugh, her chest heaving violently. "Brandon, do you think if you put on this lovesick act now, I should be grateful and forgive you? Do you have any idea what the past three years have been like for me?"

The emotions she'd suppressed for so long erupted in that moment.

"Every single day, I waited for you in this empty house like a fool! You stood me up over and over again for Luna, left me stranded over and over again! When I was sick, you were comforting her. When people mocked me for being a trophy wife, you were still backing her up!" Harper's voice trembled with agitation, each word dripping with blood. "Now I've finally woken up. I don't want you anymore. What gives you the right to keep hounding me?"

Brandon froze in place, his face ghastly pale.

All those details he'd deliberately ignored now transformed into blades, cutting him to pieces.

"I'm sorry..." His Adam's apple rolled with difficulty. Beyond this pale, powerless apology, he couldn't find a single word of defense.

"I don't need your sorry." Harper closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, only bone-deep exhaustion and indifference remained. "I'm tired, Brandon. I'm exhausted—body and soul. I drained every drop of my energy over these three years. Now when I see you, all I feel is suffocation. I don't want even the slightest connection to you anymore. Let me go."

That word—suffocation—completely shattered Brandon's psychological defenses.

He looked at her resolute face and knew that no matter what he said now, it would only inflame the situation further.

He didn't dare push her anymore, terrified she might do something drastic.

Brandon averted his gaze, avoiding her sharp stare.

He forcibly suppressed the panic in his chest and stiffly changed the subject. "You barely ate anything tonight. I'll have the housekeeper make you something light."

With that, he turned and fled like a deserter, striding quickly toward the kitchen to instruct the staff to prepare a few simple dishes.

After giving his orders, Brandon didn't return to the living room to face Harper.

He walked into the master bedroom, opened the closet, and stiffly pulled out a brand-new set of bedding.

He moved to the bed, stripped off the old sheets, and replaced them with the silk linens she loved most.

He fluffed the pillows, cleared the clutter from the nightstand, and even swapped out the towels and toiletries in the bathroom for the brands she preferred.

He worked meticulously, yet every movement was tinged with an ineffable sense of humility.

He didn't know how to win back someone whose heart had died. All he could do was use this clumsy method to try and keep her—even if just for one night.

Half an hour later, the housekeeper brought up steaming hot food.

Brandon emerged from the master bedroom to find Harper still in the same position as before, sitting on the living room sofa, watching him coldly as he bustled about.

He walked to the couch. Instead of urging her to eat, he suddenly bent down and dropped to one knee before her.

Harper's brows furrowed. She was about to pull back when Brandon's arms shot out, wrapping around her waist with undeniable force. He buried his face deep into her abdomen, his arms tightening like a drowning man clinging desperately to his last piece of driftwood.

"Let go." Harper's voice was icy as she pushed against his shoulders.

"Let me hold you... just for a moment." Brandon's voice came out muffled, carrying a barely perceptible tremor.

Harper's pushing motion paused, but her body remained rigid as iron.

The living room fell silent save for their staggered breathing.

After a long while, Brandon slowly lifted his head.

"Harper, there's never been anything inappropriate between Luna and me." He looked into her eyes, dissecting his past word by word. "Her sister died saving me years ago—hit by the kidnappers' car. With her dying breath, she grabbed my hand and begged me to take care of the White family, to take care of Luna. That was a human life. I owed the Whites a debt. So I was good to Luna because I was repaying that debt. But I swear—I never touched her. I never had romantic feelings for her."

Harper lowered her lashes, her gaze still calm. "None of that has anything to do with me anymore."

"It does." Brandon grasped her hand and pressed it tightly against his cheek, his palm burning hot. "And our marriage—you always thought I only married you because Grandma forced me to, that it was just to fulfill a family alliance."

He paused, a trace of bitterness and self-mockery surfacing in his eyes.

"But that's not true. Before Grandpa even proposed the alliance, I'd already seen you." Brandon's voice was low and resolute. "At the Anderson family gala—you were wearing a white dress, standing alone on the balcony. That's when I knew: if the Martinez family's future lady had to be someone, I wanted it to be you. Marrying you wasn't entirely the elders' arrangement. It was also my own selfish desire, my own choice. I was just too arrogant, too used to controlling everything. That's how I took a winning hand and ruined it completely."

Harper listened quietly. Her heart wasn't entirely unmoved, but the ripples were too faint to topple the walls she'd built over three years.

"Brandon, it's too late for all this." She tried to pull her hand back.

Brandon gripped it tighter, refusing to let go. He looked at her, a glint of desperate madness flashing in his eyes.

"It's not too late. As long as you don't leave, nothing is too late." He straightened, his gaze burning into hers as he played his final, heaviest card. "Harper, if you're willing to reconcile, I'll agree to any condition you name. Thirty percent of Martinez Group shares, all my properties, funds, overseas trusts—tomorrow morning, I'll have my lawyers transfer everything to your name unconditionally."

He stared at her, each word striking like a hammer.

"I'm willing to give you everything I own."