Chapter 51 Dilemma
Timothy
My head was a mess.
That was the only way to describe it as I left the house after breakfast, too quickly, too sharply, as though the walls themselves were pressing in on me. I barely registered the sound of the door closing behind me. My feet carried me forward on instinct alone, muscle memory taking over while my mind lagged several steps behind.
Hannah’s face followed me anyway.
The way her smile had faltered when I shut her down. The way she’d tried, carefully and tentatively to reach me across the table, only to withdraw when I went still and cold. I’d told myself it was necessary. That distance was safer. Cleaner.
So why did my chest feel tight?
I slid into the backseat of the car and stared out the window as the driver pulled away. The city blurred past in streaks of steel and glass, and I tried unsuccessfully to push the image of her away. When had I started caring whether I hurt her feelings? When had that become something that mattered?
“Work,” I muttered to myself under my breath. “Focus on work.”
The building loomed ahead, familiar and imposing, a structure I understood. I nodded absently at the security personnel as I walked in, my expression already set into something unreadable. People greeted me, associates, junior partners, staff but I responded on autopilot, my mind elsewhere.
The elevator ride to the top floor was quiet. Too quiet.
When the doors opened, my secretary was already waiting, tablet in hand, her posture impeccable.
“Good morning, sir,” she said. “Your schedule for today.”
She walked beside me as I moved down the corridor, listing appointments in a clipped, efficient tone.
“Cancel the lunch meeting,” I said, interrupting her. “Push it to next week. And I want a revised draft of the Carlisle contract by end of day.”
She nodded, unfazed. “Of course. These files came in overnight.” She handed me a folder. “And legal flagged clauses four and nine for your attention.”
“Put them on my desk.”
“Yes, sir.”
My office door closed behind me with a solid click, sealing me inside a space that usually brought clarity. I loosened my tie and sat, flipping open the folder. Numbers, clauses, projections…this was my language. This was where I excelled.
Today, it refused to anchor me.
I read the same paragraph twice without absorbing it. My pen hovered uselessly above the page. With a sharp exhale, I forced myself to concentrate, annotating margins, signing where required, correcting a figure here and there.
Still, my thoughts drifted.
Her laugh in the elevator last night. The way she’d leaned into me when I carried her upstairs, trusting, unguarded. The softness of her voice when she spoke about the dog, about ordinary things that somehow felt important when she said them.
I pressed my fingers to my temple and closed my eyes briefly.
This was a mistake.
By the time I finished the last file, hours had passed. I stood, shrugged into my jacket, and left for the conference across town, grateful for the distraction.
The venue buzzed with quiet energy. I spotted Rowan near the entrance, mid-conversation, and he broke away when he saw me.
“There you are,” he said, falling into step beside me. “Did you hear about the Kline–Morales situation?”
“No,” I replied automatically.
“They’re gearing up for something ugly,” he continued. “Could shake the market if it goes public.”
“Mmh.”
He glanced sideways at me. “You’re distracted.”
“I’m fine.”
He snorted softly. “You’re never ‘fine.’ You’re focused. This is different.”
The elevator doors opened before I had to respond. We stepped inside with a group of executives, the air thick with expensive cologne and muted conversation.
The conference dragged on longer than expected. I contributed where necessary, answered questions, offered insight but my attention fractured again when my phone vibrated discreetly in my pocket.
I checked it under the table.
A message from Hannah’s security detail.
She’s at her friend’s house. Resistant at first, but safe.
My jaw tightened.
Resistant.
A flicker of irritation sparked, immediately followed by something else, relief, sharp and unwelcome. She was safe. That was what mattered. Or should have.
“Mr. Blackwood?”
I looked up to find half the table watching me expectantly.
“Yes,” I said, clearing my throat. “Apologies.”
I answered the question, something about logistics, my voice steady despite the churn inside me. The presenter nodded, satisfied, and the discussion moved on.
Rowan’s eyebrow rose, but I ignored it.
When the conference finally ended, the room dissolved into clusters of conversation. Jacob Gregory approached with his usual easy smile, clapping me on the shoulder.
“Good session,” he said. “Samantha sends her regards to Hannah. She adored her.”
“I’ll pass it on,” I replied.
We exchanged pleasantries before moving on. Rowan and I headed for the restroom, the brief quiet a relief.
As I adjusted my cufflinks at the sink, Rowan’s phone buzzed on the counter.
I didn’t mean to look but I did.
>Do you have any useful information we can actually use or are you just being fucking useless?
The name at the top wasn’t familiar and yet it was.
I frowned. Rowan caught my expression as he returned.
“Everything alright?” I asked.
He glanced at the screen, jaw tightening for a fraction of a second before he masked it with a smirk. “Nothing.”
“That didn’t look like nothing.”
He pocketed the phone. “Just noise.”
I studied him, but he’d already turned away.
Outside, Rowan stretched, rolling his shoulders. “I’m going to find a drink. Maybe a woman. You?”
“No.”
He grinned. “Going home?”
“Penthouse.”
“Ouch,” he said lightly. “Trouble in paradise?”
I didn’t answer. I got into the car and shut the door, cutting him off mid-laugh.
As the car pulled away, the city lights began to glow, the sky darkening overhead. I leaned back against the seat, exhaustion settling deep into my bones.
I told myself the penthouse was a choice. Neutral ground. Somewhere I could think.
Yet even as the car sped through familiar streets, one thought refused to leave me alone.
If I truly didn’t care…
why did her absence feel so loud?
The question followed me into the night, unanswered, unsettling, and entirely unwelcome.