25. Silas
Silas
I let out a frustrated huff as another car cuts me off on Fifth Avenue.
“Damn tourists,” I mutter under my breath.
I’m already running late for a lunch with one of our investors, and it feels like every car in New York has decided to hit the streets today. It’s snowing, the roads are slick, and naturally, when the roads are slippery …
“ALL THE MORONS ARE OUT DRIVING!” I shout, leaning out the window, just as some woman flips me the bird for not letting her cut in. Real classy.
Grumbling, I pull out my phone and shoot a text to Mr. Lee, apologizing for the delay. I explain that traffic is insane today and assure him that I’m not usually this late. I don’t mention the part about my assistant not speaking to me for three weeks. That’s more of a personal reminder than anything else.
Since January 1st, when the clock struck midnight and the new year began, Lauren has stopped speaking to me unless it's strictly about work. No more calls—especially after I tricked her into one, pretending it was about a meeting, only to beg her to explain what happened that night. Now, it’s just texts and emails. She won’t answer her door, doesn’t leave her place and, yes, I waited outside her apartment for many hours. The parking meter charged me over a thousand bucks for that stunt. I’ve tried everything to get her to talk to me. I’ve asked around the office, investigated every little detail, even locked the team in a room, hoping someone would crack. No one said a word.
I finally find a parking spot a few blocks from the restaurant. As soon as I shut the car door, I sprint toward the Hilton, where Mr. Lee is already waiting. I’m late, but this meeting needs to go well, or everything I’ve been working for could be at risk. As I enter the hotel, the receptionist gives me a once-over, her expression a mix of desire and confusion—probably wondering why I look like I’ve just run through a storm.
“I’m Silas Walker. I have a reservation,” I manage, still catching my breath.
“Yes, Mr. Walker, right this way,” the brunette says kindly, leading me to the best table in the house. I can’t help but suspect that Lauren had something to do with this choice of venue. Of course, I’d know if she talked to me—but she doesn’t.
Mr. Lee stands up as soon as he sees me, extending his hand. “Silas …” he says warmly, shaking my hand.
I smile and return the handshake, trying to shake off the whirlwind of frustration still buzzing in my head.
Time to focus .
I tower over Mr. Lee, but he’s the one holding the power in this meeting, and I never forget that. He’s a Japanese investor with a deep trust in the New York real estate market. Probably around fifty years old, with billions in his bank account and the final say on whether this deal moves forward.
“Sorry for the delay,” I say, trying to ease the tension. “You know how New York is this time of year—everyone wants to see the snow.”
“I completely understand,” he replies smoothly. “Your assistant called me a few minutes ago to let me know you were on your way, and she was kind enough to order some appetizers.”
I glance at the table and see several plates of food already laid out. A small smile creeps onto my face, but inside, my stomach knots. The fact that Lauren spoke to him, that she’s handling work matters so smoothly while completely shutting me out—it’s a knife twisting in my gut.
“Shall we get started then?” I say, pushing the thought of her aside, trying to focus.
The meeting flows well enough, even though my mind is swimming in unanswered questions that have nothing to do with real estate.
Did I scare her with what I said?
Did I misread her feelings completely?
Why won’t she just tell me what’s going on so we can fix it and start living our life together?
I feel Mr. Lee’s gaze on me.
Focus. He’s asking you something.
“Of course,” I respond, snapping back to the conversation and hoping my answer fits. “My father is very excited about this project and is one hundred percent on board.”
Whether or not my father is excited doesn’t really matter—I’ll give Mr. Lee whatever reassurance he needs. He takes a sip of his wine, still studying me carefully, as if he’s weighing something I can’t see.
Finally, he nods and extends his hand. “Well, Mr. Walker, you’ve convinced me.” His handshake is firm, and in that moment, the deal is sealed .
“I’m glad to hear that,” I say, feeling the satisfaction of a deal well done. “Believe me, this is an investment few have had access to. I personally selected the list of investors.”
“That’s what your assistant told me. What was her name again? Laura?” Mr. Lee asks.
“Lauren,” I correct, feeling a sharp pang in my chest at just saying her name. God, I miss her.
“Yes, Lauren. She’s very kind, much more so than your other assistant, I must admit,” he chuckles lightly, a bit embarrassed by his honesty.
I force a smile to match his. “You mean Stella? Yes, Lauren is much more … ” My mind races— Sweet, friendly, thoughtful, intelligent —“expeditious,” I finish, settling on something neutral, though my thoughts linger on how much more Lauren is to me than just efficient. Speaking of Stella, I make a mental note to call her. She should be having her baby around now.
“And that’s how you succeed,” Mr. Lee continues, standing and fastening his suit jacket. “Surround yourself with capable people. That’s what my father taught me, and it’s still working for me. I wouldn’t have this life otherwise.”
I rise to meet him, but instead of offering his hand, Mr. Lee bows respectfully, a gesture deeply rooted in his culture. I mirror his movement, bowing in return.
“We’ll be in touch,” he says with a smile before turning and walking toward the exit, his two bodyguards trailing behind.
As I watch him leave, the satisfaction of sealing the deal fades, replaced by the ache of missing Lauren. Every win feels hollow without her here, and I can’t shake the feeling that this empty space in my life will only grow until I get her back. The waitress returns, and I order a glass of whiskey. It should be champagne, but what’s the point of celebrating when I have no one to share it with? The most important project of my life, and it’s completely overshadowed by this constant weight pressing down on me. Lauren is the only person I want to celebrate with, the only one who could make this victory feel real. But instead, I sit here, drowning in the questions that refuse to leave me alone. I’ve exhausted every thought trying to understand what went wrong. I’ve gone through every alternative, every clue, trying to figure out what happened. At this point, I’m starting to think nothing really happened at all. Maybe Lauren just didn’t know how to end things with me. But if that’s true, why did she accept me that night? Why did she call me her Hades?
The thought of her is like a knife twisting in my chest. I love her, and this uncertainty, this silence—it’s cracking my heart in half.
A woman walks into the restaurant, pushing a stroller. The baby is fast asleep inside, and she offers me a soft smile as she passes. I return it, looking at the child, completely exhausted in the stroller. The sight reminds me of Stella. Without thinking, I pull out my phone and dial her number. She answers on the second ring.
“You’re late. I’ve already given birth,” Stella says, her usual bluntness coming through the phone.
I can’t help but smile. I’d almost forgotten how much fun we had together, how we became close by living through our sorrows side by side. Stella, always chasing her dream of becoming a mother, yet never finding the right person to make her happy. And me, drowning my feelings for Lauren in one-night stands with strangers.
“Congratulations, then,” I say, taking a sip of whiskey. “What’s the name?”
“Poppy,” she replies.
“Nice,” I say, genuinely meaning it.
“Yes, though I’ve hardly seen her,” she continues. “I’m still in the hospital. The delivery was complicated, and I’ve got a week of recovery ahead.”
“Which hospital?” I ask, leaning back in my chair.
“St. Mary’s. Are you coming to visit?”
“Maybe,” I say, noncommittal, though the idea of seeing her feels like a momentary escape from my current mess.
Stella laughs softly. “Well, don’t wait too long. You’ll want to meet Poppy before she starts college.”
Hospitals have a way of feeling depressing, no matter the reason you’re there. Even for something as joyful as the birth of Poppy, there’s still that unsettling atmosphere. The sterile silence, the faint chemical smell, the hushed conversations in the hallways, the serious expressions on everyone’s faces—it all feels a little too heavy.
I walk down the corridor, holding a brown teddy bear in one hand and some “Happy Birthday” balloons in the other. The store didn’t have many options, and, technically, this is Poppy’s first birthday, right? So maybe it fits.
I knock on the door twice and hear Stella’s voice from the other side.
“Come in,” she says, her tone flat but familiar.
I open the door slowly, half-expecting to see Poppy in the room, but it’s just us. Stella is sitting up in bed, looking tired but somehow still composed.
“Happy Birthday?” she says with an arched eyebrow, taking in the balloons.
I shrug, playing it off. “It’s all they had. Don’t expect too much from the hospital gift shop.”
Stella takes the teddy bear, gently stroking it with a tired hand. She looks completely drained—dark circles under her eyes and paler than I’ve ever seen her.
“Why are you still here?” I ask, concerned.
“I lost a lot of blood during the delivery,” she says, her voice calm but tense. “They want to make sure everything’s okay. Poppy was born a week early.”
I frown. “How serious is it?”
“It’s going to be fine,” she says, but there’s a strain in her voice. Quickly, she shifts the subject. “Now, talk to me about something boring, like the office. How’s Lauren doing?”
I let out a heavy sigh, pulling a chair up next to her bed .
“Is it that bad?” she asks, reading my expression.
I drop into the chair, crossing my legs. “I’m in love with her,” I say bluntly, not even trying to dance around it.
Stella’s mouth drops open in exaggerated surprise. “Seriously?”
“Always,” I admit. “I was in love with her when we were in school together, and I still am.”
“Wow,” she says, shaking her head with a half-smile. “You’re messed up.”
“Yeah,” I agree, pressing my lips together in frustration.
“And her? Does she feel the same?”
“I thought so,” I say, leaning back in the chair. “But something changed a few weeks ago, and I can’t get her to talk to me. She’s completely shut me out.”
Stella adjusts her blankets thoughtfully, her expression softening. “Hmm, give her time. She probably needs space to think. Being the boss’s lover isn’t exactly easy.”
“She’s not my lover,” I respond, sharper than I mean to. “If it were up to me, I would’ve married her yesterday.”
Stella lets out a soft laugh. “That’s a lot of pressure, Silas. You’ve gotta remember how they talked behind my back at the office. Hell, they had a new rumor about me every week.”
I can’t help but smile, remembering the absurdity of it all. “Honestly, they could’ve written their own soap opera with the stuff they came up with.”
She chuckles softly. “Exactly. So, give Lauren some time. She’s probably just trying to figure out how to deal with everything.”
Stella rubs her stomach, likely out of habit after carrying it for so long. “Actually, about two weeks ago, my mom called me because someone told her you were Poppy’s father.”
I burst out laughing. “I only paid for your treatment. That doesn’t make me the father.”
“And I can’t thank you enough,” she says, grinning.
“Thank me for not being the father or for paying for it?” I tease, and we both laugh.
“Seriously, though,” she continues, her tone softening. “If it weren’t for your help, I never would’ve fulfilled my dream of being a mother. Don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”
I stroke her hand gently and offer her a smile. “It’s nothing, Stella. You know that.”
Suddenly, Stella’s expression changes, her body stiffening as alarm flashes across her face. “Hey, you don’t think Lauren heard that rumor, do you?”
My stomach twists violently.
Oh, fuck.
I rake my hands through my hair and stand up, suddenly feeling like I can’t sit still in that chair any longer. My mind races, and then I remember—it was Dulce who dragged Lauren away from me at the party.
I’m going to fire someone. No, first, I’ll rip their damn eyes out and then ...
Before I can finish the thought, the door swings open, and a nurse walks in, carrying Poppy in her arms.
“It’s time to eat, Mom,” she says with a sweet smile, gently handing the baby to Stella.
I watch from a distance, my frustration momentarily melting away as I take in the scene. Stella holds Poppy with such tenderness, her eyes bright with maternal love. It’s impossible to deny how beautiful the moment is. “She’s beautiful,” I whisper.
Stella smiles softly, her attention completely on the baby. “Thank you,” she murmurs, stroking Poppy’s tiny hand. There’s so much love in her gaze, it almost feels too intimate for me to be part of.
I lean down, place a kiss on Stella’s forehead, and quietly head toward the door. Just as I’m about to leave, she calls out. “Silas!”
I stop and turn around.
“Go talk to her. If that rumor is what’s been keeping her away, it’s understandable. Let her know she can call me if she needs to. I’ll clear things up.”
I nod, giving her a small, grateful smile. “Thanks,” I say, leaving the room just as she begins to feed her daughter.
Outside, the weight of what I need to do presses down on me.
It’s time to face Lauren.