Chapter 71 Pulling strings
CHAPTER 71: Pulling Strings
Silas
The silence in the back of the Maybach was oppressive, a stark contrast to the roar of chaos brewing in my mind. I stared out the tinted window, watching the city drift by, but the image of Vera's teary eyes and wounded expression was all I could see.
I couldn't shake the image of her pained orbs…the faint glint of something fragile in them. Something that shattered after I dismissed the issue as I did. Her eyes had glassed over with a hurt so profound it had made my own chest tighten with a phantom pressure. It was an irritating distraction, one I hadn’t planned for, but strangely couldn't shake.
“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Natalie remarked, her fingers never pausing as she scrolled through her tablet. “Everything is moving according to plan. The merger is nearly finalized. You should be pleased.”
“I have a lot on my mind,” I said, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears.
“I can see that,” she said. “However, there's one issue that needs to be addressed.”
I said nothing and she took it as a cue to proceed.
“I think it’s time we addressed Vera. She’s getting ahead of herself, Silas.”
My jaw clenched. “What do you mean?”
She finally set the tablet in her lap, her expression carefully neutral.
“She’s getting too comfortable. Expecting you to play the doting husband at a hospital visit is a breach of the boundaries we discussed.”
I turned from the window to face her. “Isn't that supposed to further push the narrative we want to the public?”
“That is beside the point.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“She needs to remember her place in this agreement,” she said simply.
A cold, sharp edge of annoyance sliced through my gut.
“Enough, Natalie,” I said, my voice dropping into a low, dangerous vibration that made the driver’s eyes flicker to the rearview mirror.
“Do not humiliate or speak condescendingly to her again. Not in front of me, and certainly not behind my back.”
Her brow arched, a rare flicker of surprise crossing her composed face. “Oh. So, you’re defending her now?”
“I don't care how you see it,” I snapped.
“That girl is not really—”
“That ‘woman’,” I cut in, stressing the word, “bears the Rutherford name,” I corrected, my voice dropping into a low, dangerous warning. “That makes her an extension of me. I would not allow anyone to treat her like anything less. I will not allow it—regardless of who they are,” I said pointedly. “I hope we understand each other, Nat?”
She leaned back, her gaze searching mine with a scrutiny that was so thorough it felt like she could see what I was struggling to bury.
She smiled cynically.
“Tell me, Silas. Is that all this is? A matter of the family name? Or is it because she’s already managed to find her way into your bed?”
I didn't give her the satisfaction of a reaction or a reply.
“I’m neither blind nor dumb,” she said softly, her voice dropping some of its professional polish. “I saw your marks on her body. So I know exactly what has been happening.” Her tone dropped a notch. “What are you doing? What is the goal here?”
“I don't think it's any concern of yours who I sleep with or how I spend my nights.”
“Not if you're mixing business with pleasure,” she countered hotly.
I raised a brow.
“You seem to have forgotten your own words, Nat.”
“Don't tell you're bringing that up now?”
“Wasn't it your advice? To bed her and get the 'itch' out of my system so I could focus on what's more important? I’m simply taking your professional counsel.”
Natalie scoffed, her mouth twisting into a cynical line.
“Don't do that. This feels different, Silas. You know I'm right. I know you. This doesn't look like some random itch scratching.”
I felt an intense urge to roll my eyes. Someone else who shared Chauncey's wild theories.
“It isn't different,” I snapped, the words feeling heavy on my tongue. “I'm not hopelessly falling in love with her—”
Natalie didn't blink. “I'm not saying that.”
“You didn't have to,” I snapped. “Whatever is between Vera and I, is exactly what it was with us. A physical release. No emotions. No strings. No complications. No expectations.”
A tense silence stretched in the car, as Natalie watched me critically.
“Do you honestly believe that?” she asked, her voice hushed as the car slowed to a halt in front of the office building. “Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you’re already feeling the pull of a string you never intended to tie.”
I didn't give her the satisfaction of an answer, I pushed the door open and stepped out of the car, not prepared to go down that road again.
I spent the next several hours with the legal team, buried in the first drafts that had been sent over, as well the financial projections, but the numbers wouldn't stay still.
Every time I closed my eyes, I felt the ghost of her touch, the way she had arched into me, the hopeful glint in her eyes and the way I had left her standing alone in that dining room.
The meeting was finally over and the legal team had finally cleared out as Natalie had left to see them to the elevator.
I reached for my desk phone and hit the speed dial for my driver.
“Where is my wife now?” I demanded.
“We just arrived at the hospital entrance, sir. Madam has headed in for her appointment now.”
I didn't think twice about it.
I stood up, grabbing my coat with an urgency that felt like a betrayal of my own logic.
The door opened, and Natalie walked back in, her eyes immediately finding mine. She knew the moment she saw me shrugging on my coat.
There was no point asking why I was leaving mid-day. She saw the set of my jaw and the way I was already moving past her.
“You're going to the hospital…to her,” she stated. It wasn't a question; it was a realization.
I didn't look back as I reached the door. “Focus on the merger,” I said. “This is not your concern, Natalie.”