Chapter 145
Chapter Title: Unfinished Business
His voice was indifferent, monotonous, and yet it sent a chill down Gemma’s spine. She froze in place, her body stiffening, before she turned to look at the cold figure standing before her. “What? No way… You obviously have feelings for me,” she mumbled, her voice faltering. “You just don’t realize it because you’re so apathetic… It’s okay, though. I can wait.”
Her words came out in a jumbled mess, and Tony’s patience finally wore thin. He was already losing interest in her antics. As his mind wandered back to the sound of Myra’s voice during their earlier call, he simply turned his back on Gemma and walked toward his villa, leaving her standing there, ignored.
Gemma watched him go, her teeth sinking into her pink lip in frustration. It’s always the same… no matter what I do, he never looks at me! she thought bitterly. Is there something wrong with me? Yet, despite her frustration, a small sense of relief crept in. Maybe it’s not me—maybe he’s just a man who can’t be drawn to anyone.
After all, she reasoned, At least I’ve had more chances than other women. The thought did little to ease her frustration, but it was a small comfort.
Once inside his villa, Tony loosened his tie and sighed wearily. His fingers reached for his phone, eager to hear Myra’s voice. But when he checked the screen, he saw that the call had ended without him even realizing. As he tried calling back, the phone rang once before going to voicemail. Myra’s phone was off.
A sharp pang of frustration gnawed at him. Was she jealous? Did she doubt him?
Back in her apartment, Myra stared at the black screen of her phone, her heart heavy. She knew she needed to trust Tony, but hearing that woman’s voice—so full of longing for him—had stirred something uneasy within her. She had to shake off the feeling, but the doubt lingered. Maybe I’m being too sensitive, she told herself, her mind wrestling with conflicting thoughts.
After a deep breath, she tucked the phone into her purse and decided to go out and buy ingredients for dinner, hoping the simple task would help clear her head. Life, in some small way, was starting to feel normal again. Estelle had been stopping by for free meals, and though she’d received occasional calls from Cameron, Myra had ignored them all. She was trying to focus on herself, and it felt good.
Two or three days later, Myra was on her way back from the nearby supermarket, her arms full of groceries. As she neared her apartment, she slowed when she saw the familiar, eye-catching black Lamborghini parked outside. Leaning casually against it was Sean, dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants. His tall, broad frame radiated arrogance, and even with his head tilted down, his presence was enough to catch the attention of anyone nearby.
In the past, the old Myra would have melted at the sight of him, but not today. Today, all she felt was a dull indifference. The pain of their past seemed like someone else’s story—one she could hardly remember anymore.
She tried to walk past him, but Sean called out, stopping her in her tracks.
“Myra, I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice cool but carrying an edge of something deeper.
Myra ignored him at first, continuing her stride toward the building, but he wasn’t about to let her go that easily. He quickly moved to catch up, grabbing her wrist firmly.
“Myra, I said I need to talk to you!” His tone grew more insistent.
The moment his hand touched her, Myra pulled away, annoyance flashing across her face. “Just say what you need to say, but take your hands off me!” she snapped, her words laced with frustration.
Sean’s face hardened, but his eyes fell on the bag of groceries she was carrying. His gaze sharpened as he noticed the darker colors of the items inside, nothing feminine or dainty. What’s this? His eyes flicked back to her, a hint of disdain in his expression. “What? There’s some guy living in your apartment? Are you worried he’ll find us together?”
Myra’s response was swift and cutting. “It’s none of your business.”
His expression soured, but he quickly regained composure and pulled out an invitation letter, its delicate design unmistakable. Lacework decorated the edges, a clear sign of its purpose. Myra’s lips curled in amusement.
“So, you’re marrying Lyla, and now you want to invite me to your wedding?” she asked dryly, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Sean’s face remained unreadable, but something in his chest seemed to shift at her words. For a moment, he felt like he was on the verge of saying something—something more vulnerable—but he quickly tamped it down. He hadn’t expected her to react this way.
“Are you unhappy?” he asked, his voice carrying an unfamiliar softness.
“Why should I be?” Myra answered, the edge of her words sharpening. “We’re not together anymore, Sean. Why would I care that you’re marrying Lyla?”
His jaw tightened as her words sank in. But before he could respond, she continued, “I told you when we divorced—let’s part ways like strangers. Don’t come looking for me again.”
Sean felt the weight of her words settle over him like a cold shroud. For a moment, his confidence wavered, and he found himself questioning his choices. But Myra, seemingly unaffected, turned to walk away, her back to him once more.
But Sean couldn’t let it go. “Do you still hate me for not caring about you all these years? Do you still care that the one I love is Lyla?” His words were blunt, raw with frustration.
Myra didn’t flinch. “I don’t hate you, Sean,” she said, her tone icy. “I just don’t care anymore.”
His heart sank, but he didn’t speak again. Instead, he watched her walk away, his chest heavy with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. He remained standing there, holding the wedding invitation like it meant something, even though in the end, it seemed to mean nothing at all.