Too Late, Mr. Husband, She's Hope

a Van

ung open violently, the wood slamming agains

't tiptoed around this house. I was done m

from his ergonomic chair so fast it rolled backward and hit t

exact same fluid motion, his left hand swept across the desk, knocking the bottle of

des, watching his pathetic, panicked routine. The corner

sual authoritative posture. "Why didn't you knock before coming in? I'm

, I took two slow, deliberate steps into th

ngle ounce of emotion. "What kind of client r

kin a sickly, ashen gray. But the arrogance he had built up over years

the side. "That's... that's a gift for our lead investor's

to his left wrist. The cuff of his shirt was pulled back, exposing the Patek

g so low it was almost a whisper.

sperately scrambled through his mental calend

h a disgustingly fake look of sudden realization. He ru

ilt. "With the Series C funding coming up, the board has been breathing

arms, stepping in to

t was a microscopic movement, but it was eno

irritation crossed his eyes before he quickly pulled his hand back

bribe. "To make it up to you, I'll book us a trip to Hawai

. Suddenly, every feature on it looked foreign, greasy, and

backward to widen the physical gap b

ly jumped on the excuse. "Yeah, actually, the main server just threw a critical erro

t rack in the corner. He grabbed his dark

a move he thought was incredibly slick, his fingers hooked the s

The last shred of warmth in my chest

he air right next to my cheek. He didn't even make contact. A wave

e good," he threw the empty promise over h

fade. A moment later, the mechanical hum of the garage d

ward the floor-to-ceiling win

view of the driveway and the main inters

ed out of the garage. The engine let out a l

k as I watched the red taillig

he tech park, he woul

and the car accelerated smoothly down the left fork. The road that l

pect me enough to

ye, Du