Chapter 28 Where Did You Go Today
Crystal Gardens. The study.
Terrence had just ended a grueling cross-border video conference, the residual edge in his gaze sharp enough to cut glass. His phone lit up on the desk. He glanced at it without much interest, intending to swipe the notification away… until the image froze his hand mid-motion.
A photograph. Grainy, but unmistakable. Bianca and Samuel, seated across from each other in a café. Only their profiles were visible, yet the details were damning—Samuel's face dripping with sickening, faux tenderness, Bianca's brows drawn in clear discomfort.
Mr. Terrence Anderson, I happened to pass by a café and saw Bianca with Mr. Samuel Anderson. Could she be doing something behind your back… something she wouldn't want you to know?]
Terrence deleted the message without replying. Such clumsy attempts at provocation did not deserve his attention. No one had the right to dictate his opinion of his woman. Not Blair. Not Samuel. Not anyone.
Still, his eyes lingered on Bianca's profile in the photograph, a shadow tightening in his gaze. He knew this was likely a setup… but knowing did not erase the weight of it.
He picked up the internal phone, his voice clipped and cold. "Check Bianca's movements this afternoon."
Three minutes later, his assistant reported, "Mr. Anderson, Mrs. Anderson went to Westside Mall Café and met with Samuel. Our people are nearby. Do you want a detailed report of the conversation?"
"No." Terrence hung up, fingers tapping an unhurried rhythm against the desk.
Meanwhile, at the café, Samuel leaned back with a smug smile. "Bianca, I knew you still had feelings for me. I'm not asking for much—just twenty million dollars. Go talk to Terrence. He'll give it to me."
Twenty million. The audacity was staggering. Samuel's company had never cleared more than a million on its best project. What he needed that kind of money for was anyone's guess.
"I came here today to make things clear," Bianca said flatly. "I'm not helping you."
"Samuel, I'll tell you for the last time—there is nothing between us anymore. I don't want you showing up in my life. I won't have Terrence's trust shaken over petty nonsense. If you keep pushing, I won't hesitate to let him know you've been harassing his fiancée. You know exactly what that would mean for you."
Samuel's smirk faltered. This was not the script he had imagined.
"Is he forcing you?" Samuel leaned forward, voice low. "I know you still care about me. If Terrence is pressuring you, I can take you away. We'll disappear. I don't believe he could find us overseas."
Bianca rose from her chair, unwilling to waste another second on this man. Scum like Samuel had cost her everything once before. If not for him and Blair, Terrence would not have died saving her in another life. That debt of blood was one she would carry forever.
"If you've got trouble hearing, see a doctor. Or go ahead—test me. See if Terrence would lift a finger for me."
She turned to leave. Samuel's panic spiked. He did not care if she still had feelings for him; he cared that without her, he would lose his only channel to extract information about Terrence.
"Bianca!" His voice rose, sharpened with threat. "If you walk away, I swear I'll tell Terrence everything that happened between us. Let's see if he still marries you once he knows."
Bianca stopped, turning back with a smile that was pure venom.
"Go ahead. I'd like to see whether Terrence throws you out to protect his fiancée… or keeps you around, a distant relative with no real ties to him, while cutting me loose."
The words landed like a blade. Samuel's mouth closed. He knew which way Terrence's loyalty leaned—and he could not afford to gamble.
Later, Bianca stepped through the front door of the Anderson estate. The air shifted immediately, heavy with unspoken tension. On the sofa sat a tall, composed figure.
"Terrence." Her pulse jumped, but she kept her expression calm, walking toward him with deliberate grace.
She was about to sit beside him when his hand closed around her wrist, firm enough to halt her. His voice was low, controlled. "Where did you go today?"
Bianca hesitated for a beat, then steadied herself. She reached into her bag for her phone, speaking plainly. "I went to see Samuel."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. His gaze darkened further, the cold in it almost tangible.
She drew in a breath and met his eyes head-on. "Yes, I saw him. But it was to end things. Terrence, I chose you. That means there will never be anyone else in my heart. I've said this before, and every word was true."
Her voice hardened. "I hate his interference more than you do."
She tapped her phone, playing a recording—her own voice, sharp and unyielding, telling Samuel exactly where he stood. No edits. No cuts.
"If you still don't believe me… if I've ever done anything to betray you, you can punish me however you wish. Even if it costs me my life."
The words were heavy, but she did not flinch. The recording played on, each sentence leaving no room for doubt.
Terrence listened in silence, the rigid line of his mouth easing fractionally. Something more complicated flickered in his eyes.
When the recording ended, Bianca tossed the phone aside. Then, with sudden boldness, she swung one leg over his lap, straddling him, arms looping around his neck.
The shift in weight made his body tense. Her tone was soft, laced with a playful complaint, yet her gaze never wavered. "Darling, my heart is yours. God Himself could bear witness to that. If you ever doubted me, I'd lay it bare for you without hesitation."
She took his hand and pressed it to her chest, letting him feel the steady beat beneath flesh and bone.
Heat surged through him, sharp and immediate. His jaw tightened, a vein pulsing at his temple as he fought to keep control. Her scent curled around his senses, teasing at the edges of his restraint.
"Get down," he said, voice rough.
Bianca did not move. Instead, she shifted slightly against him, feeling the way his muscles locked under her touch. A sly smile tugged at her lips.
Terrence's hand clamped around her waist, his voice coming through gritted teeth. "Bianca."
She knew better than to push further. If she did, she would be the one to go up in flames.
But she had forgotten her injured ankle. Rising, her left foot gave way. She gasped, pitching forward—her lips landing squarely against the firm line of his throat.
Time stopped.