Chapter 23 up
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
The voice was calm, yet filled with concern.
Nyla lifted her head from the computer screen. Vincent stood at the doorway of her office—not as a boss checking on his employee, but as someone who genuinely noticed the subtle change in her expression.
“I’m fine,” Nyla replied quickly—too quickly.
Vincent didn’t respond right away. He stepped inside and closed the door softly. “You’ve seemed restless since this afternoon.”
Nyla fell silent.
She was restless. Ever since the elevator carried Clark away, her heart had refused to return to its normal rhythm. Even though she hadn’t witnessed the confrontation herself, her instincts screamed that something had happened.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” Vincent asked gently.
Nyla let out a long breath. “Clark came here this morning.”
Vincent nodded. “I know.”
Nyla looked startled. “You know?”
“He was waiting for you in the lobby,” Vincent said honestly. “And… he came to see me as well.”
Nyla’s face went pale. “What did he say to you?”
Vincent looked at her carefully, choosing his words so they wouldn’t hurt. “He was angry. Jealous. And afraid.”
Nyla gave a bitter smile. “Afraid of losing me… after he was the one who pushed me away.”
Vincent didn’t deny it.
“I don’t want to become a source of trouble in this company,” Nyla continued quietly. “If my presence makes things complicated—”
“Stop,” Vincent cut in, firm yet calm. “You don’t owe me anything except professionalism. And so far, you’ve shown exactly that.”
Nyla stared at her own hands. “I’m just tired… of being pulled into conflicts that are no longer my choice.”
Vincent nodded slowly. “That’s why I want you to focus on your work. Whatever happens outside this building… it must not erode your sense of worth.”
The words were simple, but grounding.
“Thank you,” Nyla said softly.
Vincent offered a faint smile. “Take a ten-minute break. I’ll adjust your schedule for the rest of the afternoon.”
When Vincent left, Nyla leaned back in her chair. For the first time that day, her breathing felt a little easier.
But the calm didn’t last.
Her phone vibrated.
Selena’s name appeared on the screen.
Nyla stared at it for a long moment, then chose not to answer.
The phone vibrated again. Then a message came through.
Selena:
Are you satisfied now? Making Clark humiliate himself in another man’s office?
Nyla closed her eyes.
She didn’t reply.
A few minutes later, another message arrived.
Selena:
You know how dangerous Clark can be when his ego is hurt.
Nyla gripped the phone tightly.
A subtle threat. As always.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city—
Clark sat in his car, his hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. Vincent’s words kept echoing in his head, striking harder than any shouted accusation.
You can love her, or you can own her.
Clark let out a harsh breath.
His phone rang.
“Clark…” Selena’s voice sounded sweet, yet fragile. “I’m not okay.”
Clark frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“I—I feel dizzy,” Selena sobbed softly, her weakness sounding rehearsed. “And… I heard something.”
“Heard what?” Clark asked quickly.
“People are talking about me again,” Selena continued in a trembling voice. “They say I’m just a kept woman. That you… never really chose me.”
Clark closed his eyes. “Who said that?”
“I don’t know,” Selena replied quickly. “But it all started after Nyla began working with Vincent. Everyone keeps comparing me to her.”
That name pierced him again.
“I’m tired, Clark,” Selena went on. “I’m carrying your child… but I always feel insecure.”
Clark fell silent for a long time.
“What do you want me to do?” he finally asked.
Selena cried softly. “Prove to me that I wasn’t wrong to choose you.”
The call ended, leaving behind a heavy silence.
Clark stared blankly at the road ahead.
He felt trapped—between the guilt over Nyla that refused to leave him, and Selena’s demands, which never truly seemed satisfied.
Meanwhile, back in Vincent’s office, Nyla returned to her desk. She opened her work files, trying to drown her thoughts in numbers and schedules.
But the image of Clark—angry, jealous, and wounded—kept resurfacing.