Chapter 8: The Day Adam Said Sorry
Adam's POV
I slapped the papers onto the desk. "Take a look," I said with deliberate coldness. "If it meets your standards, sign it."
A three-year marriage contract and a blank check lay between us.
"That's what you're after, isn't it? Money?" I sneered. "You spread your legs for a hundred grand. Now I'm offering you three years. Name your price." I tapped the blank check with my finger. "Go ahead, write down whatever number makes you happy."
Her face went white, then red with fury. "You absolute bastard," she hissed. "What the hell do you think I am?"
My head throbbed. "Don't play coy now. What else do you want? A house? A car? Just spit it out."
"You know what?" She slammed her hands on the desk, leaning forward. "You need serious professional help. You're so paranoid it's pathetic. You want me gone? Fine, I'm going!"
Something twisted in my gut as she continued, her voice trembling with rage. "I put up with this circus for William's sake. But get this through your thick skull – I don't owe you a damn thing. I haven't touched your precious money or taken so much as a paperclip from this house. Who the hell do you think you are, treating me like some cheap whore?"
The fireplace crackled in the heavy silence.
"You want to know what I really want?" Her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Something a cold, heartless bastard like you couldn't possibly understand."
She straightened up, eyes blazing. "From now on, unless it's about William, stay the hell out of my life. You can go back to your sad, lonely existence, counting your money and suspecting everyone around you. I'm done."
The clock showed 9 PM. My fingers hovered over Luke's contact before pressing dial.
"Let me guess – she's still gone?" Luke's tone carried its usual mix of amusement and concern.
"Your talent for stating the obvious is truly remarkable," I drawled, massaging my temples where a headache was building. "Either tell me something useful or hang up."
"You're approaching this all wrong, Adam. Force won't work with someone like her. If you want her back, make her want to come back."
I snorted. "What do you suggest? Flowers and chocolate?"
"No, but dropping the ice king act might help. She's not some corporate rival you need to crush. Show her the real you."
"The real me?" I laughed darkly. "The one with PTSD who can't sleep? I'm sure that'll win her over."
"Adam," Luke's voice softened, "Trust me on this – if you want her back, win her over."
I ended the call without responding as I grabbed my keys.
When I arrived her 'new home,' I looked at the hallway around us. "What kind of dump is this? It's barely habitable."
My knuckles rapped sharply against the worn door. Footsteps approached, then stopped.
"I know you're there, Sophie."
The door opened a crack, chain still in place. Her face appeared in the gap, surprise quickly replaced by wariness. "Mr. Foster?"
"Let me in."
She shook her head. "It's late, and this isn't appropriate."
I placed my hand against the doorframe, preventing her from closing it. "This whole building isn't appropriate. Do you have any idea what kind of neighborhood this is?"
"Better than you might think," she replied, chin lifting slightly. "The neighbors are friendly, and it's close to campus."
"It's a slum."
"Compared to Agate Island, maybe. But compared to Cedar Town, it's quite nice." Her voice took on that quiet steel I was becoming familiar with. "Not that it's any of your concern anymore."
"Come back With me!"
"Why?" The question was soft but direct. "Yesterday you made it clear you didn't want me there, and now you're here telling me to come back? Do you find it amusing, Mr. Foster, toying with me like this?"
The words Luke had suggested stuck in my throat. I'd never apologized to anyone in my adult life. But something in her steady gaze made the impossible happen.
"I'm sorry."
Her eyes widened, genuine shock replacing the defensive mask. For a moment, we just stared at each other through the gap in the door.
"Mr. Foster," she finally said, voice gentler now, "I accept your apology. But I'm not coming back. The lease is signed, and we both know this marriage was forced on you. I've caused enough trouble these past few days. When the time is right, I'll discuss divorce arrangements with William."
The chain rattled as she closed the door fully, leaving me standing in the dingy hallway.
I could have her out of here in minutes. But something held me back. Maybe it was the realization that forcing her would only push her further away.
The days that followed were torture.
"Sir?" Oliver knocked and entered my office, his expression hesitant. "I have today's update about Ms. White."
"Go ahead."
"Ms. White left her apartment at 6:15 this morning. She stopped outside Vita Coffee again, just staring at the breakfast menu for a few minutes before moving on without buying anything." Oliver shifted uncomfortably as my expression darkened. "She arrived at Miller's Seafood by 6:45. Mrs. Miller was... particularly harsh today."
"How so?"
"She made Ms. White redo the ice display three times, calling her incompetent in front of customers. When Ms. White slipped on the wet pavement while making deliveries in the rain, Mrs. Miller still forced her to complete her shift despite an obvious injury to her knee."
My knuckles went white on the armrest of my chair. "And?"
"She's been riding those shared bikes to work in all weather. The fall today was pretty bad, sir. And she's been standing outside coffee shops every morning, just looking at the food... But—"
"Bring a few people; I want Miller's Seafood dealt with. Today." I stood abruptly, cutting him off.