THIRTY-TWO
Cece
“…she okay?”
I hear a voice humming, muffled and distant. But I can’t seem to force my eyes open. My lids still burn from the memory of those flashing lights at the club.
Levi’s hands surround me when I stir slightly, and I focus on keeping my breathing even.
I still don’t understand how his anger vanished so quickly, within seconds of reaching me. I thought he’d drag me out of that club, hiding our faces while he was at it.
But none of that happened.
Instead, he followed me straight into the insanity that had possessed me.
The worst part is that the day had actually started off well. For once, I’d gone into the Wentworth office instead of hiding at home. For once, I’d sat behind my desk and pretended I was still capable of functioning like a normal person.
But then my eyes started darting toward the mini fridge I kept in my office for stocking champagne and some other drinks.
Before long, I had a glass filled with Baileys while no one questioned the creamy coffee-like drink in my hand.
It wasn’t until I was off the call with someone I had not talked to in years that I realized how much of a mess I’d become. Somewhere between one spreadsheet and the next, I made the mistake of calling people I hadn’t spoken to in years.
It started with Derek.
When he didn’t answer, I called Sebastian.
Sebastian at least entertained me for a few minutes.
He listened to my awkward questions and half-hearted attempts at conversation before apologizing and cutting the call short.
His wife, Inez, was on active duty, and I’d recently learned that he never left his NYPD cop wife alone during those days of operation.
After that, I called Sienna.
God.
Even thinking about it makes my stomach twist.
Sienna, for her part, was cordial. I was sure that receiving a call on a random weekday from me after years of silence must’ve been shocking to her. She was one of those Harvard friends I’d pushed away during my two years as a hermit.
She ooh-ed and ahh-ed in all the right places and asked enough questions to keep the conversation moving. But the connection we’d once shared was gone.
I knew it.
She knew it.
Hell, I hadn’t even thought about her in years, and here I was, calling her like a manic, pathetic woman. Probably giving her the impression that I couldn’t leave my Harvard heyday behind.
That was the moment that triggered my entire nervous system.
I didn’t wait after that. I drove to the nearest hair extensions and wigs studio, got myself a flimsy disguise, went to Levi’s penthouse to change, and then drove all the way back to Gastown.
But the second Levi and I left that sleazy nightclub, I could feel the pharisaical noose around my neck leashing me back into place.
Which is why the silence that took over me was heavier this time. Because I couldn’t see the end of it anymore.
Levi was happy. Irrationally happy about this random detour our lives took tonight.
I wasn’t.
I’m still not. Because all I could think about was the damage. I had just ruined my reputation even more thoroughly than before. Ruined myself, while I was at it.
This wouldn’t look good for the Wentworth family. Especially since my parents have only just learned about my diagnosis.
They wouldn’t blame me. Instead, they’d blame bipolar. And then they’d expect me to feel comforted by that distinction—as though the disorder and I were somehow separate entities.
As though bipolar wasn’t woven into every corner of my brain.
As though it wasn’t me.
‘I don’t want to be tamed.’
My words slam back into me, and I flinch slightly, making Levi’s arms around me tighten further.
“She’s fine.” I hear him answer whoever is on the other end of the line.
I’m not fine. I’m embarrassed.
He pauses, listening. Then responds with a chuckle. “Yeah, man. And I’ll get her however many wigs she wants.”
The person continues the conversation, and I squeeze my eyes, trying my hardest to listen.
“Well, they would’ve had to realize we weren’t puppets of our families anyway… C’mon, Taewon, I’m not worried what they’ll think about us… You really think so?”
About us. Not just me.
That one word starts to warm the cold mortification settled in my chest. And I find myself surprisingly believing him.
The pause is longer this time. But Levi’s chest vibrates under my cheek when he hums every now and then, in agreement with Taewon.
“Oh, by the way,” he says, possibly cutting him off. “You’ve only got one more week. Then I’ll fly to LA and drag you back myself. Got it?”
I hear a muffled laugh on the other end.
“God,” Levi groans softly. “Why is it taking you this long to un-fuck the situation? You and Iris just met. How badly did you mess up, man?”
Taewon messed up with… Iris?
My mind flashes back to the awkward last interaction I saw between the two in the conference room. When she announced that she had handed over the merger to another consultant. And how pissed off Taewon had looked that day, berating her.
Is something going on between them?
I freeze, all my muscles locked, my breath deepening. My focus zeroing in on any jealousy seeping into Levi’s tone. Even though it sounds almost ridiculous that he’d be. He hasn’t given me any indication of missing her after everything fell apart.
But my brain can’t stop weaving toward that absurdity regardless.
He lets out a startled laugh, controlling himself immediately so he doesn’t accidentally wake me up.
Then he resorts to whispers. “Christ. Touché, man. Touché. But… I’m trying, you know?
And I think tonight was a step in the right direction.
I’d been trying to navigate the situation incorrectly.
I don’t need to preserve the vain reputation that never aligned with us.
I just need to rebuild the real one. From scratch. ”
He pauses. Then his voice hardens a fraction, tone unwavering. “Oh, it’ll work. I know it will. What’s better than authenticity?”
“Oh c’mon, Taewon!” he snaps lightly. “Just be honest with her. Don’t try to hide behind Gyuri again.”
I hear Taewon’s raised voice then, finally loud enough for me to make out his words. “…nothing to do with that. The whole thing with Iris was so damn similar, I just… fuck. I lost my temper.”
“Who’s Gyuri?”
Levi’s whole body flinches violently at my calmly posed question. “Fuck—”
They both gasp at the same time. Although I think Taewon may have yelled a little.
I prop myself up on my elbow, taking Levi’s phone from him and putting it on his chest before slapping on the speaker icon.
“Who is Gyuri, Dongsaeng?” I ask again, leaning over Levi and dropping my chin on my arm resting on his chest.
“How long have you been awake?” Levi asks, ignoring my question while giving me a massive, boyish grin.
I frown at him and speak more firmly. “If someone doesn’t tell me who Gyuri is, I’ll sic Sebastian on you both.”
Levi snorts before dropping his back on his pillow. My head is moving with every beat of his laugh.
“Noona,” Taewon finally responds—whines, really. “She’s no one, okay? Now, tell me, how are you?”
I groan angrily and hit the end call button. Levi is looking at me with shocked amusement when I dial Taewon again a second later.
He picks up on the first ring and quickly stammers out the answer I demanded. “Sorry. Gyuri’s an ex, Noona. From like… years ago.”
“And… what did Iris do that was similar?” I prod.
I can feel Levi’s firm grip on my waist now, tightening in warning. He doesn’t want this answered. And I wonder why?
“Iris didn’t—I mean, I misunderstood,” Taewon says, grumpily. “Gyuri and I dated for a few months before she started making moves on Levi. I was apparently just a… pit stop.”
I mull over his words, my brows furrowing. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but… doesn’t that make Levi the pit stop here? Since Iris dated him first?”
In a flash, I’m nearly propelled off of Levi’s warmth when he starts coughing violently—choking on air. His glare forms quickly, planted firmly on me as his whole frame shudders on each cough.
I try to shrug innocently, but his scowl deepens further when Taewon’s laugh filters through the phone that’s slipped off Levi’s chest now. And is currently buried under the duvet layers.
“Good point,” Taewon states, and I snort.
When Levi’s wheezing doesn’t die on its own, he sits up. And I pat his back with one hand and fish the phone from the other.
I’m passing a glass of water to him when Tae speaks again, his voice shaking with laughter. “Is he dying? Daebak! He won’t need to resign this week if he does. Hey—can I be President then?” (Wow/Awesome!)
“..uck you, gae saekkiya!” Levi manages through his broken vocal cords and pauses to drink the water. (bastard.)
But Taewon’s words have already jolted me enough to wipe my smile off my face. And I stare at Levi’s reddening one, his eyes watering. “You’re really resigning?”
His chest heaves, and he gains his breathing back. His gaze intensifies when he watches how pale I have gotten.
I genuinely thought he wouldn’t go through with it. Why would he—when I was right here? Agreeing to a marriage that was designed for the facade we’d both been living in for a year.
He nods, clearing his throat.
“I’ll—uh—yeah…” Taewon says before the call disconnects.
“You don’t have to,” I say numbly, but the tremble in my voice belies my fear and utter shock.
He shrugs before leaning forward and dropping a kiss to my wobbly lips. “I want to. And I’m privileged like that, baby. I get what I want.”
“What if… what if—” My throat closes up viciously, but I force the words out anyway. “The board. What if they don’t vote you b-back in?”
For a moment, he says nothing. The silence that stretches between us is thoughtful rather than tense.
His gaze drifts somewhere over my shoulder, as though he’s genuinely considering the possibility.
Then he smiles. The sight is so unexpected that I stare at him in confusion.
“Isn’t one of Wentworth Group’s directors retiring soon?”
My breath catches.
What the hell—
My brain struggles to process what he’s saying because what he’s saying means…
“In other words,” he continues, amusement dancing in his eyes, “it won’t matter to me. Astor Holdings can survive one setback. And I don’t need Astor Holdings to make my life make sense.”
“Levi—”
“Hey,” he cuts in. “Is it necessarily nepotism if you hire your husband?”
His face scrunches into a mock frown.
And all I can do is gape at him, my jaw dropped. Then, I actually find myself trying to answer the question because I start shaking my head. “Your qualifications match…”
What the hell am I saying?
Shit.
I dig the heels of my palm over my eyes. “I’m not marrying you if the clause doesn’t exist, Levi.”
When I finally find the courage to look up at him, the sight makes my chest tighten.
His entire expression has fallen. The color drains from his face quickly, and the guilt that slams into me, leaving me fumbling over my words as I try to explain.
“No—I mean…” I immediately sit forward. “That’s… wait.”
His eyes remain fixed on me. His chest is unmoving like he’s bracing for something horrible.
“We can date,” I rush out. “Date properly. Date longer. There won’t be a deadline anymore. And… you don’t know all of me. I don’t know all of me. I’m still off my meds, and we need to be sure that we really—”
God. I’m rambling. And I stop when a slow smile begins spreading across his face. Before I can stop him, he leans backward and reaches into the bedside drawer.
The second I see a familiar velvet box in his hand, I start shaking my head.
No.
No, no, no.
“No, Levi. I just told you—”
“Relax,” he says with a chuckle. “It’s not the same one I showed you a year ago. I got this custom-made.”
I blink as he opens the lid.
What?
I remember that ring from a year ago. We’d been sitting in a restaurant, just the two of us, for the first time. No parents. No obligations. No interruptions.
I think that was the first day I realized Levi genuinely liked me. Or had been interested in me, at the very least. Back then, the clause hadn’t felt nearly as suffocating as it would later become.
That day, he’d shown me a ring that must have cost a fortune. I hadn’t accepted it. Not because I didn’t want it. Because I wanted more than just that ring.
I wanted us to get to know each other first. Maybe even fall in love. But I never said that second part aloud. It felt too hopeful. Too embarrassing.
Loving me seemed difficult enough without adding impossible expectations to the mix.
The ring never made another appearance, though. Not when we publicly started calling each other fiancé and fiancée. Not when the clause tightened around both our lives.
Not once.
And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel hurt over that. But now he’s holding an entirely different ring.
This one is simple. A white-gold band with embedded stones rather than raised ones.
It’s beautiful.
“You… you have T-Rex hands,” he says softly.
I look up at him from the ring. “I’m sorry—what?”
“You do.” His smile grows sheepish. “You sleep like this.” He demonstrates immediately like I don’t understand what that means, bending his wrists and tucking one hand beneath his chin while the other rests against his chest.
I gape at him.
Oh my God.
T-Rex hands? How does he even know that’s a thing?
“So,” he continues, still smiling, “the old ring would’ve hurt you. Dug into your skin while you slept. And there was no way I was letting you take it off every night.” His smile softens. “Well. Every night, every day… whenever you sleep, really.”
My chest aches. “Are you propos—”
“Nope.” The box snaps shut. “Not until we date more, as you said.”
A tiny spark of disappointment flares before I can stop it. Dammit, I love this ring. Especially now that I know why he chose it.
“We’ll get married, baby,” he says quietly. His fingers slide beneath my chin, lifting my face until I’m forced to meet his eyes. “But not until you’re ready. Not until you believe in me beyond my stupidity. Beyond my mistakes. Beyond that clause.”
His eyes shine. And I see the sadness sitting beneath everything else. “Not until you trust our feelings for each other again.” His voice drops even lower. “Because I know mine, Cece.”
His thumb brushes against my cheek. “And all of them belong to you.”