CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
NATHAN
THE BOARDROOM WAS suffocating.
I sat at the head of the table with glossy folders and projections spread out in front of me, but I couldn’t hear a damn thing. My head of A&R was rambling about a new artist showcase, but all I could see was Elise’s face the night she walked away.
You stole my choice.
The words had carved into me, bone-deep.
“Mr. Edge?” Kingsley's voice cut through, tight and cautious. “We need your final approval on the streaming partnership before we move forward.”
Approval. Final say. That was what I did. My name opened doors, closed deals, built empires. But I couldn’t even keep the one thing that mattered most. My hand hovered over the papers, useless, until I shoved them aside with a rough exhale. “Table it. We’ll circle back in a week.”
Around the table, eyes flicked toward each other. They thought they were being discreet, but I could feel the pity. They’d never seen me like this. Nathan Edge didn’t stumble. Didn’t lose his grip. But now? Now even my silence cracked the walls I’d built around myself.
My new assistant, Harper, cleared her throat. “Maybe we should, um, revisit this after lunch? Give everyone a breather?”
Everyone? No. She meant me.
I let out a sharp breath, shoved the papers into a pile, and pushed up from my chair so fast it screeched against the floor. “Fine. Dismissed.” My voice was too rough, more bark than command.
They scattered like mice, relieved, but not before I caught that look in their eyes. Not respect. Not fear. Pity.
The meeting dissolved in awkward silence, and I didn’t move until the last body slipped out.
That’s when Harper crept toward me with her tablet in hand, her heels clicking softly across the polished floor.
She was my age, efficient, and too sharp to mistake pity for professionalism, but it was there anyway, flickering across her face before she buried it.
Harper cleared her throat. “I’ve confirmed with Madison Carter’s team.
She’ll be at Ms. Alexandre’s doorstep by eight in the morning to perform the ballad.
” She scrolled down her notes, brisk. “The florist delivered six dozen blush tulips this morning. And tomorrow, she can decide between the Harry Winston necklace or earrings.”
Her words landed like blows. The ballad, the roses, the jewelry? All gestures that would’ve melted anyone else. Grand and cinematic. The kind of moves I’d built a reputation on.
But Elise wasn’t “anyone else.”
I dragged a hand over my face, my throat burning. “And she didn’t respond?”
Harper hesitated. “No, sir.”
Of course she didn’t. Because Elise didn’t want to be won with theatrics. She wanted honesty. Trust. A man who wouldn’t manipulate her world to bend to his will.
“Dismissed,” I rasped.
She nodded with tight lips and slipped out the room. I sat alone in the silence, surrounded by power I couldn’t touch, control I couldn’t wield. All my influence, all my empire, rendered useless. Because the only person I wanted to reach had shut me out.
And the worst part? She was right to. I needed to get back to normal. That’s what everyone expected. That’s what I told myself. But normal had been Elise. Her smile brightening these rooms, her kisses every morning and night, her fire lighting up the cold, sterile world I’d built.
And without her, Edge Records wasn’t just silent.
It was dead.
And so was I.