Chapter 5
The First Time Freddie Begs
Freddie Holloway had never understood the meaning of the word no when it came from someone he loved.
In business, no meant negotiate.
In negotiations, no meant increase the offer.
In life, no usually meant find another way.
Lucy had taught him there was one kind of no money could not overcome.
The kind that came after trust was destroyed.
Three days after Lucy opened her design studio, a black SUV stopped outside the building.
The driver carried six boxes upstairs.
Lucy looked at the first one.
Then the second.
By the time the sixth box landed beside her desk, she was already irritated.
"What are these?"
The driver handed her a card.
"Mr. Holloway."
Lucy closed her eyes.
Of course.
She opened the card.
I know you don't need these. I wanted you to have something beautiful in your new space.
Inside the boxes were pieces from a high end furniture collection.
Handcrafted chairs.
A custom desk.
A crystal lamp.
Lucy stared at the contents.
Everything was beautiful.
Everything was expensive.
Everything felt wrong.
She called Freddie.
He answered before the first ring finished.
"Did you get them?"
"Yes."
"Do you like them?"
"They're beautiful."
A pause.
"So you'll keep them?"
"No."
His voice lowered.
"Lucy."
"I told you I don't want your money."
"It's not about money."
She looked at the designer labels.
"Everything with you is about money."
"Not this."
"Then take them back."
"Please."
Lucy closed her eyes.
The word sounded unfamiliar coming from him.
She opened them again.
"Freddie, you can't buy your way back into my life."
"I'm not trying to."
"You are."
"I'm trying to make things easier for you."
"You made things harder for me."
Silence.
Lucy looked toward the window.
"I don't want anything from you."
She ended the call.
The driver stood awkwardly beside the boxes.
Lucy pointed toward the elevator.
"Take them back."
By noon, every item was gone.
At four, a florist arrived.
This time there were no roses.
There were white orchids.
A hundred of them.
Lucy stared at the arrangement.
She almost admired the thought behind it.
Then she remembered the hotel receipt.
She called the florist.
"Please return these."
"Ma'am, Mr. Holloway specifically requested that we leave them."
"I understand."
She looked at the flowers.
"Tell him I appreciate the gesture."
She paused.
"And tell him I still don't want them."
That evening, Freddie sat alone at the dining table in the penthouse.
The flowers he had ordered for Lucy were now scattered around the room because he had nowhere else to put them.
He picked up his phone.
Marcus answered.
"She sent the furniture back."
"I know."
"The flowers too."
"I know."
Marcus was quiet.
Freddie looked at the empty chair across from him.
"She used to love flowers."
"That's not the problem."
Freddie rubbed his thumb over the edge of his phone.
"I know."
"You keep trying to make her comfortable."
"Isn't that what I should do?"
"Not if you're doing it because you can't stand seeing her uncomfortable."
Freddie frowned.
"What am I supposed to do?"
Marcus answered without hesitation.
"Listen."
Freddie almost laughed.
"She won't talk to me."
"Then stop trying to make her."
The advice stayed with him.
The next morning, Freddie canceled the private driver he had assigned to Lucy.
He canceled the security detail outside her studio.
He instructed his assistant not to monitor her schedule.
For the first time since the scandal broke, he deliberately stepped back.
It lasted until Friday.
Then he saw Connor Hayes leaving Lucy's studio.
Freddie was sitting in the back of his car outside Holloway International when the photograph reached his phone.
Connor was carrying a cardboard tube.
Lucy stood in the doorway smiling.
Not the polite smile she gave strangers.
A real smile.
Freddie stared at it.
Something ugly twisted in his chest.
He had seen that smile thousands of times.
Now someone else had earned it.
"Take me there," he told the driver.
Marcus looked at him from the front seat.
"No."
Freddie glared.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
"That's my wife."
"Then act like a husband."
Freddie looked through the window.
Lucy was still talking to Connor.
"She shouldn't be alone with him."
Marcus turned around.
"She isn't alone. She's at her place of business."
Freddie's jaw tightened.
"You don't understand."
"I understand perfectly."
Freddie looked back at the photograph.
"What does he want?"
"Maybe the same thing every client wants."
"What?"
"Her work."
Freddie said nothing.
Marcus sighed.
"You're jealous."
"I have every right to be."
"No. You gave up that right when you cheated."
The words hit harder than Freddie expected.
He looked down at his wedding ring.
"I know."
"Then don't make Lucy pay for your jealousy."
Freddie told the driver to keep going.
That night, Lucy received a message.
Freddie: I won't interfere with Connor.
She stared at the screen.
Another message appeared.
Freddie: You were right. I don't own you.
Lucy read it twice.
She did not respond.
The following Monday, Freddie arrived at her studio.
Alone.
No driver.
No assistant.
No security.
Lucy saw him through the glass door.
Her body reacted before her mind could stop it.
Her heart jumped.
Her breath caught.
Then anger followed.
She opened the door.
"You shouldn't be here."
"I know."
"Then why are you?"
He looked at the sign above her.
Lucy Holloway Design.
"I wanted to see it."
"You could have asked."
"I should have."
She folded her arms.
"Why didn't you?"
"Because I was afraid you'd say no."
Lucy almost smiled.
"You were right."
He nodded.
"I know."
He looked around.
The studio was still unfinished.
Samples covered one table. Floor plans were pinned to another wall. A ladder stood beside an unfinished display shelf.
Freddie's gaze moved across everything.
"You built this yourself."
"Yes."
"You like it?"
Lucy hesitated.
"Very much."
"I can see that."
He said it quietly.
She looked at him.
"What do you want?"
He reached into his coat.
Lucy stiffened.
He noticed and stopped.
"I brought something."
She frowned.
He pulled out a small envelope.
He held it toward her.
She didn't take it.
"What is it?"
"Your old design portfolio."
Lucy stared.
"I thought I lost that."
"You left it in the townhouse."
Her throat tightened.
"I found it."
He placed the envelope on the counter rather than handing it to her.
"I had it restored."
Lucy looked inside.
Her original sketches were there.
Cleaned.
Organized.
Protected in archival sleeves.
She touched one carefully.
"You did this?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I remembered how excited you were when you made them."
Lucy looked up.
He had no smile.
No sales pitch.
No expectation.
"I shouldn't have let you give this up."
Her eyes burned.
"You didn't let me."
Freddie looked at her.
"I encouraged you to."
That distinction mattered.
Lucy closed the portfolio.
"Thank you."
It was the first thank-you she had given him since leaving.
Freddie seemed to feel the weight of it.
He nodded.
"I'll go."
He turned.
"Freddie."
He stopped.
She looked down at the portfolio.
"That was thoughtful."
He glanced back.
"I was trying to be."
Then he left.
Lucy watched him walk away.
She hated that a part of her wanted to follow.
She hated that she still knew the shape of his shoulders.
The sound of his footsteps.
The way he paused before opening a door when he was distracted.
She hated that betrayal had not erased desire.
It had only taught her to fear it.
Two days later, Freddie asked Lucy to dinner.
She refused.
He asked for coffee.
She refused.
He asked if they could sit somewhere public for twenty minutes.
She refused.
Finally, he sent one message.
Tell me what you need.
Lucy stared at it for a long time.
Then she answered.
Nothing.
The response came several minutes later.
Nothing?
Lucy typed.
I need you to understand that I don't owe you another chance.
She put the phone down.
Freddie read the message alone in his office.
He read it again.
Then again.
His assistant knocked.
"Mr. Holloway, the board meeting starts in ten minutes."
"Cancel it."
She hesitated.
"It's the restructuring meeting."
"I said cancel it."
She left.
Freddie stood and walked to the window.
For years, his calendar had controlled his life.
Meetings.
Flights.
Acquisitions.
Numbers.
Targets.
He had always believed there would be time for the people he loved afterward.
Now there was no afterward.
There was only the damage he had created.
He called Lucy.
She answered after the fifth ring.
"What?"
His voice was quiet.
"I don't know how to do this."
"Do what?"
"Ask you to forgive me."
Lucy said nothing.
"I've spent my whole life fixing things."
"You broke this."
"I know."
"Then maybe you need to accept that it isn't yours to fix."
He swallowed.
"I don't want to lose you."
"You already did."
The words were soft.
That made them devastating.
Freddie sat down.
"Is there nothing I can do?"
"No."
"Nothing?"
"Not today."
He closed his eyes.
"Then what do I do?"
Lucy looked toward the windows of her studio.
She could see the city below.
Her city.
Her life.
"I don't know, Freddie."
She took a breath.
"But stop asking me how to make you feel better."
He went silent.
That was the moment something changed.
For the first time, Freddie understood that his desperation had still been selfish.
He wanted instructions.
A path.
A deadline.
A guarantee that if he performed the right actions, Lucy would eventually return.
But she owed him no finish line.
She owed him nothing.
"I understand," he said.
Lucy waited.
He continued.
"I won't ask again."
Then he ended the call.
Lucy stared at her phone.
She expected relief.
Instead, tears filled her eyes.
Because she had wanted him to fight.
She had wanted him to beg.
She had wanted him to finally understand what he had thrown away.
And now that he had stopped demanding an answer, she could feel the loneliness beneath her anger.
Across town, Freddie removed his wedding ring.
He did not throw it away.
He placed it on the desk.
Then he opened his laptop.
He found the private account ending in 4817.
The account Lucy had been warned about.
For months, Freddie had avoided looking too closely at it.
Now he opened every transaction.
The money transfers.
The hotel charges.
The payments to Mollie.
Then he saw something that made his entire body go still.
A transfer dated three weeks before the Paris trip.
The recipient was not Mollie.
It was a company Freddie did not recognize.
He clicked into the transaction details.
The account had been funded from his personal assets.
But the authorization had come from someone else.
Someone with access to his private financial records.
Freddie leaned closer to the screen.
The authorization name appeared.
Mollie Knowles.
But beneath it was another name.
A name Freddie knew.
A name that had been trusted inside his family for years.
His blood ran cold.
He reached for his phone.
Then stopped.
For once, he did not call Lucy.
He understood that whatever he had uncovered, he needed to face it himself.
But as he stared at the account, one thought refused to leave him.
The affair had been his betrayal.
The lies had been his choice.
Yet someone else had been moving pieces behind the scenes.
And if Lucy discovered that person before Freddie could uncover the truth, she might believe the worst betrayal of all had not even happened yet.