Chapter 20 The Apology
Becca’s POV
Being back in my apartment felt strange.
After weeks in Mark’s penthouse, the silence here pressed in on me, as if the walls were sulking over being ignored.
Dust coated the shelves and the faint smell of paint from the repairs still lingered.
I walked past the corridor mirror with the trash from the kitchen.
There I was, Becca Wilton.
My hair was tied in a messy bun, I had an oversized T-shirt on. I wasn't wearing a bra, that made the shirt cling weirdly whenever I bent over.
But then, comfort mattered more than appearances.
I returned quickly from taking out the trash bin.
I opened the window, letting in the late afternoon breeze.
While folding the sheets, I hummed my favourite Taylor Swift's music, Cardigan.
I tried not to think about the chaos of the past weeks; the fake photos, Mark's accusations and the danger lurking around him.
Tomorrow I will return to work.
“Things would be different this time,” I murmured to myself.
No more confusion, no more drama. Just work.
I was halfway through the laundry when a knock echoed through the apartment
It was three steady sharp taps.
My heart skipped. Nobody I knew knocked like that. Besides, I wasn't expecting anyone else.
I froze with the towel in my hand.
Probably it's a delivery guy or some repair guy
“You didn't order anything Becca,” my subconscious mind said to me.
Then came the voice, low yet I could identify the accent really well.
“Becca.”
The towel nearly slipped from my fingers.
Mark.
I glanced down at myself, messy hair, stained oversized shirt, bare legs.
What a look to meet your boss-ex-workers-with-benefits
Another knock followed, this one was softer. “Becca, please open the door.”
I considered pretending like I wasn’t home, but my feet betrayed me.
They carried me forward, one hesitant step at a time.
When I opened the door, there he was, Mark Simmons, standing on my pouch.
Hot, sexy, wealthy Mark Simmons ; never to be cut unfresh.
He looked a bit different today, more like a tired man. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his tie missing and his hair was a mess.
“One warm bath could fix this chaos," I muttered.
“Hey,” he said quietly.
“Mark?.. Sorry Sir,”
“What are you doing here?”
His eyes glanced down to my bare legs up to my messy hair.
All I can say is probably startled or amused ... .I don't know the right one.
“I needed to see you.”
I crossed my arms. “That’s not an answer.”
He exhaled, his shoulders sagging. “You’re right. I owe you one.”
Against my better judgment, I stepped aside. He entered the house carefully.
I rushed in to pick up the clothes from the sofa, making a place for him to sit.
He glanced around, his gaze softening at the sight of my cluttered little space, the books stacked by the window, the coffee mug on the counter, the lavender candle burning by the sink.
“You’ve been fixing up the place,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.
“Yeah,”
He nodded, then kept quiet.
The silence between us was getting really awkward,
His eyes met with mine “Becca… I came to apologize.”
Well that's not what I had hoped to hear
“For what exactly?” I asked, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.
He stepped closer. “For not believing you. For letting my sister’s lies get in the way. For every moment I made you feel belittled even when you were telling me the truth.”
My throat tightened. “You found out?”
He nodded.
“I know the photos were edited and my sister with her friend was behind it,”
“I feel more ashamed that it was my company's system that was used to edit it,”
I swallowed hard.
I’d told him so many times, and now hearing him admit it, I felt relieved.
“Why now?” I asked. “Why tell me this after everything?”
“Because you deserve to know,” he said simply. “And because I can’t stand knowing I broke something that mattered.”
His hand twitched at his side, as if he wanted to reach for me but didn’t.
“You didn’t deserve any of it, Becca. The accusations. The doubt. I was wrong.”
I looked away, blinking fast. My heart pulled in two directions, a part of me wanted to scream to send him out of my house
Well you know the truth now, can you leave me alone.
While the other part yearned for him
“Mark, it’s not that simple,” I said, my voice trembling. “You can’t just walk in here, say sorry, and expect everything to go back to the way it was.”
“I don’t,” he said. “I’m not asking for that.”
He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “I’m asking for one chance. Just one. Let me make it right. Dinner, tomorrow night. No promises, no pressure. Just two people talking.”
I gave a short laugh. “Dinner?”
“It’s not a trap,” he said, smiling faintly.
“Just… closure, if that’s what you want.”
For the first time since I’d known him, he looked unsure.
My over confident boss was fidgeting like a teenage boy.
I leaned against the counter. “You really think dinner could fix a betrayal?”
He shook his head. “No. But maybe it could start a conversation. Maybe it would let me say the things I should’ve said before.”
The sincerity in his tone disarmed me.
I hated that it did.
He stepped closer, close enough for me to catch the faint scent of his cologne.
“Becca,” he said softly. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m asking for a chance to earn it.”
I met his eyes.
“Why do you care so much now?” I whispered.
“Because losing you feels worse than anything and I can't afford that,” he said.
My breath hitched. The air between us felt charged, heavy with everything we’d avoided.
“You hurt me, Mark,” I said finally. “You broke my trust. I’m not sure I’m ready to let you fix it.”
He nodded slowly. “Then I’ll wait until you are.”
There was no demand in his voice, no manipulation. Plain honesty.
“Don't give him a second chance Becca,” my subconscious mind whispered.
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Dinner, huh?”
“Just dinner,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“Alright,” I whispered. “I’ll think about it.”
I saw a pinch of relief across his face.
He stepped back toward the door, his eyes lingering on me for a heartbeat longer.
“Goodnight, Becca.”
“Goodnight,” I murmured.
When he left, the apartment felt quiet again.
I pressed my palm on my chest, trying to steady my heart.
What was I doing?
I wasn't really going back into his darkness, was I?