Chapter 47: LOVE IS THE NEXT THING TO MADNESS

Five months later, Alan is still unemployed.

Not suspended.

Not “on leave.”

Unemployed.

Rowan fired him that morning like it was a boardroom decision, not personal history. No shouting. No explanation. Just:

“You mixed business with pleasure. In the wrong place.”

And that was it.

Alan didn’t beg.

That’s the part that surprised everyone.

He didn’t argue. Didn’t apologize. Didn’t try to explain himself. He just… left. Cleared his desk. Walked out of the building like pride was the only thing he had left to hold onto.

Eleanor tried to bring him back.

Of course she did.

By then, her pregnancy had started to show. Not huge, but noticeable. The kind of bump that shifts conversations when she walks into a room. The kind that makes people soften their voices and stand up a little straighter.

She came into my office one afternoon without knocking.

“We need to reconsider Alan’s termination.”

We.

I almost laughed.

“I’m the boss,” I reminded her calmly. “No one gets reinstated without my permission.”

“Rowan acted emotionally.”

“No,” I corrected. “Rowan acted as CEO.”

And the decision stands.

She left irritated. Pregnant and irritated.

But the truth?

Alan staying fired isn’t even the real issue.

Rowan is.

He fired Alan.

He walked out of that office that day like he was made of steel.

But he hasn’t looked at me the same since.

And I hate that it bothers me.

Because technically, I have everything.

The company.

The majority shares.

Final authority.

Everything.

At the time, it felt romantic.

Now?

It feels reckless.

Five months later, I’m sitting in an empire that was never originally mine, and the man who handed it to me barely speaks to me outside formalities.

I miss him.

God, I miss him.

But I would rather choke than tell him that.

Because once men know you like them, something shifts. They stand taller. Speak slower. Start thinking they’re the prize. Like your feelings are leverage.

I refuse.

Lisa thinks I’m ridiculous.

Lisa — my new personal assistant. Technically hired by Sarah when Sarah moved up to HR. Efficient. Sharp. Observant in the most irritating way.

She stays over at my apartment sometimes. Claims it’s because my place is “closer to work.” I know it’s because she thinks I’m emotionally unstable when left alone too long.

And she knows about me and Rowan.

Of course she does.

You can’t work that closely with someone and not notice the tension.

“You still like him,” she says one night, casually stealing my hoodie while we sit on my couch.

“Ew.”

She stares at me.

“Be serious, Althea.”

“I am serious. I don’t like him. He’s just… there.”

“There where?”

“In existence.”

She bursts out laughing.

“You’re in denial.”

“I am focused.”

“On what? Pretending you don’t check if he’s in the building before walking into meetings?”

I glare at her.

She grins.

“So,” she continues, stretching dramatically, “you won’t be upset if I move on to him?”

I don’t even think before responding.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

The pillow leaves my hand before pride can stop it.

She catches it, smiling slowly.

“Exactly.”

I hate her sometimes.

Because yes — the idea of Lisa anywhere near Rowan makes something ugly twist in my stomach.

And no — I will not unpack that.

“But I don’t know if Rowan still likes me,” I admit quietly.

The room shifts.

Lisa softens.

“Well,” she says carefully, “you did take the guy’s company. Can’t blame him if he hates you.”

I exhale slowly.

I didn’t take it.

He signed it over.

But intention and perception are two different things.

“I plan on giving it back,” I say.

Lisa sits up straighter. “You do?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Not now.”

Because timing is everything.

Because I don’t trust his mother.

That woman is too composed.

Too quiet.

You don’t build a company from the ground up beside your husband and then just… watch it slip into someone else’s hands without a backup plan.

And now Eleanor is pregnant.

Pregnant.

Do you know what that means in legacy families?

Inheritance.

Sympathy.

Narrative control.

“I think his mom is up to something,” I say. “She might have a plan with this pregnancy.”

Lisa frowns. “You think the baby is part of a strategy?”

“I think nothing around power is accidental.”

Rowan’s dad left the company to him and his mom. His mom signed her shares to him. Rowan signed everything to me.

Looking back, that was unbelievably unwise.

And I accepted it.

Because I loved him.

Because he trusted me.

Because when a man looks at you and says, “I want you to have everything,” you don’t stop to ask about worst-case scenarios.

“Love is the next thing to madness,” Lisa says quietly.

And she’s right.

Love makes men sign over empires.

Love makes women hold onto control out of fear.

Love makes silence louder than arguments.

Five months later, Rowan and I barely argue anymore.

And that’s worse.

Because arguments mean you still care.

Silence?

Silence feels like distance.

I replay that day sometimes — the day he fired Alan. The authority in his voice. The way he didn’t hesitate.

That was the Rowan I fell for.

Decisive. Calm. Unshaken.

But when it comes to us?

He’s distant.

Measured.

Polite.

And I don’t know what that means.

Does he regret giving me the company?

Does he resent me for holding onto it?

Does he think I manipulated him?

“I’m tired,” I whisper without meaning to.

Lisa looks at me carefully. “Of what?”

“Fighting.”

Because this feels like a war with no official declaration.

I hold the power.

But he holds the history.

And somewhere in between is this tension neither of us is addressing.

“I miss him,” I admit finally.

Lisa doesn’t tease this time.

“Then tell him.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Because I’m not about to look desperate.

Because I don’t want him thinking I need him more.

Because if I give him back the company and he walks away from me anyway, I’ll look stupid.

That’s the real fear.

Not losing the company.

Losing him.

“I’ll give it back,” I say again, firmer this time. “But on my terms.”

Not as surrender.

Not as guilt.

As choice.

I want him to know I’m not clinging to power.

But I also want to be sure his mother doesn’t have a legal ambush waiting.

Eleanor is glowing in that quiet, dangerous way pregnant women in powerful families glow.

Rowan is distant.

And I am exhausted from pretending I don’t care.

“I still think he loves you,” Lisa says softly.

I look away.

“I don’t know.”

And that’s the problem.

Because if he doesn’t…

Then I’ve been guarding an empire for nothing.

And if he does…

Then we’re both just too proud to say it.

I have everything I thought I wanted.

Control.

Authority.

Security.

And I would trade half of it for one honest conversation with Rowan where neither of us is calculating the outcome.

But until then?

I remain CEO.

I remain composed.

And I absolutely do not miss him.

…At least that’s what I’ll keep telling myself.