35. Chapter 34
T roy
Troy had never thought of himself as a man who needed looking after. He had built his own success, created a life on his terms, and always assumed Jenna's role in their home had been supplementary-a graceful accessory to the life he had provided. Someone who supported and was grateful.
Now, as he stood in the middle of their kitchen, staring at the takeout containers cluttering the counter and the dishes piled up in the sink, he realized just how much he had taken for granted.
The house felt different. Cold. Empty. Not just because Jenna was gone, but because her presence had always been the thing that had turned it from a house into a home.
She had kept everything running, not just the physical space but the heart of it-the small, thoughtful touches, the quiet reassurances, the ability to make even the worst days seem manageable.
And the meals. Christ, the meals.
There had always been something warm on the table when he got home-home-cooked meals made with care, Jenna's presence at the kitchen island, sipping tea while asking about his day.
Now, there was nothing but silence, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional sound of Max stomping upstairs.
At first, he had thought hiring a maid would help.
He wasn't going to let the house turn into chaos.
He had hired a professional service-efficient and thorough.
The laundry was done, the floors were spotless, and there were fresh sheets on the bed.
The house was in order, but it wasn't right.
It still felt empty, lifeless as if missing something crucial.
No amount of tidiness could replace the way Jenna had made their home feel lived in.
It made no sense. He had never thought about these things before. He had always assumed that if you removed one piece, the machine would still function. But now, he felt like he had dismantled a well-run machine and lost the one part that made it work.
Troy had spent his entire career problem-solving, first as an engineer, then as a specialist in automation systems. He had designed entire infrastructures for corporations that demanded efficiency, developing processes that replaced human oversight with seamless, AI-driven precision.
And yet, for all his expertise, for all his ability to build, to optimize, to fix-he had never once applied that same logic to his marriage.
Jenna had been right there. Right beside him. And he had ignored all the warning signs.
He had told himself he was doing it for them. That working late, taking on extra projects, accepting higher-stakes contracts-it was all for their future.
But had it been?
Or had it been for his father?
His father had never explicitly said it, but Troy had always known-he was meant to prove something.
Meant to be bigger, better, more successful.
Not just competent, but indispensable. It had been drilled into him as the heir, reinforced through every achievement, every pat on the back that came with an undertone of what's next ?
And he had listened. Even after his father's death, he had kept going, as though the voice in his head wouldn't let him stop.
Even when he had everything-a perfect wife, beautiful children with none of his deficiencies, a home-he had never slowed down.
And now?
Now, his father was dead.
Jenna was gone.
And his children could barely look at him without resentment simmering beneath the surface.
Troy exhaled, rubbing his hands down his face. He left for the office. Home didn’t feel like home without Jenna.
His phone vibrated as he drove. His mother. Again.
Margaret had called twice that morning, and he had let it go to voicemail both times, not in the mood for another lecture. He already knew what she would say.
Still, something in him-the sense of obligation drilled into him from childhood-made him answer this time.
"Hello, Mum," he said, already bracing himself.
"Troy," Margaret sighed, her voice thick with exasperation. "I've tried to be patient, but this is ridiculous. Have you heard from Jenna?"
His jaw tightened. "No."
"She hasn't answered my calls either," she said, voice sharp. "That girl always had a way of making everything about herself. Always sulking, always-"
Troy's grip on the steering turned vice-like. "Don't."
Margaret huffed. "Don't what? Speak the truth? You let her get away with- "
"I said don't." His voice was steel now, cold and final. "You don't get to talk about Jenna like that."
A stunned silence followed. He could practically hear the surprise on the other end of the line.
"Since when do you defend her?" Margaret finally scoffed. "She walked out on you, Troy. She left you and the children. And you're still running after her?"
Troy closed his eyes, pressing a thumb against his temple. "I'm not running after anyone."
"You should be moving on. You're not a failure, Troy. You've worked too hard to have your life ruined by a girl who never knew how to appreciate-"
He ended the call.
His mother's words still rang in his ears, but they didn't settle like they once had. There had been a time when he might have let her comments slip, dismissing them as the usual motherly concern, even agreeing with some of them in moments of frustration.
But now?
Now, they made him furious.
Because he knew the truth.
He had been the one who failed Jenna.
Not the other way around.
Later, Troy stared at his phone, the screen glowing in the dim office light. The message thread remained unchanged.
Unread.
A cold wave of dread settled in his stomach.
He had spent so long assuming that, eventually, she would come back. That this was temporary. That she just needed time .
But what if it wasn't?
What if this was permanent?
What if he had pushed her too far?
The thought sent a ripple of panic through him, and for the first time in years, Troy felt completely out of control.
The feeling was suffocating, pressing against his chest like a weight he couldn't shake.
He had built his entire career on fixing things, on seeing patterns and solving complex problems-but he couldn't solve this.
Jenna wasn't a faulty system he could troubleshoot; wasn't a malfunctioning algorithm he could rewrite.
She was gone, and the realization that he might not be able to bring her back settled in his gut like lead.
His office door creaked open.
"You work too hard."
Troy barely glanced up as Lila's voice broke the silence. He had heard that tone before-low, suggestive, as if they shared some secret understanding. But tonight, there was something more. Something determined.
She perched on the edge of his desk, crossing her legs deliberately, her long red fingernails tapping lightly against the polished wood. The office was quiet, the hum of the city outside muffled by the glass walls. Everyone had left for the night. Everyone but them.
"You need to relax," she continued, tilting her head, watching him like she had already decided for both of them.
Troy sighed and leaned back, rubbing his temple. "And you need to respect office hours."
Lila laughed softly, unfazed. "I'm serious, Troy. You look exhausted. You need someone who understands you. "
She reached out, resting her hand on his shoulder, her red nails tracing a slow, deliberate path down his sleeve. "You give so much. To your work, to your family. But who takes care of you?"
Troy turned to her then, really looking at her, and a ridiculous, uncharitable thought crossed his mind.
She looked like a budget Morticia Addams.
All that dramatic black clothing, the long, inky hair, the slinky movements. Except instead of elegant and mysterious, she looked like Morticia's long-lost cousin who had been rejected from a second-rate soap opera for being too obvious.
And the nails-Christ, the nails. She waved them around like they were meant to hypnotize him. Did she sharpen them every morning? Was she planning to seduce him or fillet him?
The image was so absurd that a short huff of laughter almost escaped him.
Lila must have mistaken his reaction because she leaned in further, her voice dropping to a near whisper, her breath warm against his ear.
"I see you, Troy," she murmured. "You and Jenna have been over for a long time. Everyone knows it. It's time you let yourself have what you really want."
Troy frowned, irritation creeping into his tone. "I don't know what the hell you think you're doing-"
Lila leaned in, her scent cloying, her lips parting slightly as her fingers brushed his tie. "I'm doing what we both know has been building for years," she whispered, pressing closer. "You deserve more, Troy. Someone who appreciates you, who understands what it's like to be you. "
Her lips grazed his jaw, a slow, deliberate movement that set his pulse hammering-not in excitement, but in sheer disbelief at what was happening.
This is a joke , he thought. This has to be a joke .
"Lila," he growled, gripping her arms and pushing her back. "This isn't happening."
Before she could respond, the office door swung open.
Mack stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable, but the flicker of disgust in his eyes was unmistakable.
Lila straightened, smoothing down her dress as if nothing had happened. "Mack," she said, her voice light, "we were just-"
"Spare me," Mack said flatly. "Troy, I need a word."
Troy exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his jaw as if to wipe her touch away "Fine."
The pub was quiet when Mack slid a pint in front of Troy, taking a seat across from him.
"Are you having an affair with my sister?" Mack asked bluntly.
Troy stiffened, his grip tightening around the glass, his eyes wide. "What? No."
Mack leaned back, watching him carefully. "The whole office thinks you are."
Troy's jaw tensed. "That's bullshit."
Mack took a slow sip of his drink, unfazed. "Is it? Because from where I'm sitting, you've spent the last few years disregarding your wife while letting Lila sink her claws in deeper and deeper."
Troy inhaled sharply. "I-"
Mack hesitated, fingers tapping against his glass before he exhaled heavily. "I should've told you this years ago. "
Troy frowned. "Told me what?"
Mack's expression darkened. "Lila had a breakdown when you married Jenna. Your father had spoken about an engagement with dad and she was acting like all her dreams had come true."
Troy froze. "What?"
"She was obsessed with you, Troy. Always had been.
When you got engaged, she lost it. It wasn't just disappointment-it was.
.. bad. My parents had to send her away for a few months, some private therapy thing.
She wouldn't eat. She cried all the time.
She kept saying she was supposed to be with you. "
Troy swallowed hard, his stomach turning.
"She was fragile, and I-" Mack hesitated again, his voice dropping. "I didn't tell you because she’s my sister. And I thought she'd get over it." His jaw clenched. "But she didn't. She just got better at hiding it."
Troy ran a hand down his face, his mind reeling.
Mack exhaled, leaning back. "And Maggie? She and Lila were thick as thieves. You think Jenna's calls not getting through was an accident?"
Troy's grip on his glass tightened until his knuckles turned white. It was like puzzle pieces had finally clicked in his mind.
He had always trusted Maggie. She had worked for him for years-sharp, efficient, professional. But now that Mack said it...
Jenna had once said Maggie didn't pass on her calls. He had thought it happened just that once. What if he was wrong?
His stomach churned.
Mack sighed. "You want my advice? Wake the hell up before you lose her for good. And check your call log for the last few months."
Troy had no response .
Because for the first time, he realized just how blind he had been.
He had spent so much time trying to control everything, to prove himself, to fix things-but when it came to the people who actually mattered, he had been completely, utterly oblivious.
And now?
Now, he might have lost the only person who had ever truly seen him for who he was.
He pulled out his phone again, staring at the message thread.
Unread.
His throat tightened.
He had always thought she would come back. That she just needed time.
But what if she wasn't coming back at all?
The panic that gripped him was unlike anything he had ever felt before.
For years, Troy Bradshaw had built systems, optimized processes, streamlined efficiency-he had always found solutions.
But this?
For the first time in his life, he didn't know how to fix it.