Chapter 5
GWEN
Late Wednesday evening, the Belltown penthouse was steeped in quiet.
I sat alone at the kitchen island, staring blankly at the polished surface of the quartz counter.
I hadn’t eaten dinner. I hadn’t turned on a single television screen or opened a book.
Ever since Reid had casually dropped the devastating reality of a two-year expansion phase into my lap on Monday morning, I had been trying to piece myself back together.
I had spent days trying to convince myself that marriage was simply an exercise in endurance.
I had repeated my vows in the lonely, quiet moments of the morning, clinging to the desperate, fraying hope that if I could just weather this relentless storm of his ambition, the man I loved would eventually emerge on the other side.
The private elevator groaned to life. The heavy steel cables whirred softly in the shaft, signaling the end of a grueling, multi-day legal marathon.
When the polished doors finally parted, Reid stepped into the foyer.
He looked entirely hollowed out, carrying the profound, bone-deep fatigue of a man who had been running on sheer adrenaline for weeks, yet he somehow moved lighter than he had in months.
He had discarded his suit jacket somewhere between the boardroom and the parking garage.
His tie was missing, his collar was unbuttoned, and his dress shirt was rumpled.
He dropped his leather briefcase onto the entryway table with a resounding thud, letting out a long, ragged exhale that seemed to release the weight of the entire world.
He looked up, his dark eyes scanning the dim loft, and saw me sitting at the island.
"It's done," Reid said. His voice was gravelly, scraped raw from days of non-stop, cutthroat negotiations, but a deep, resonant relief radiated from the very center of it.
"The transfer documents are signed, sealed, and filed with the state.
The capital has cleared escrow. The Tacoma manufacturing plant officially belongs to us. "
I stood up, my bare feet silent against the hardwood floor.
Despite the cavernous rift that had opened between us, despite the lingering sting of his broken promises, seeing the sheer, unadulterated relief washing over his exhausted features tugged violently at my chest. He had fought so hard for this. He had bled for this moment.
Before I could say a single word, Reid crossed the kitchen in long strides and pulled me into his arms.
It wasn’t the distracted, one-armed embrace of an executive rushing to his next meeting.
It was a desperate, grounding hold. He wrapped both arms securely around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest and burying his face in the curve of my neck.
I could feel the erratic, racing beat of his heart slowing down as he held me, his broad shoulders finally dropping their rigid, defensive posture.
"We did it," he murmured against my skin, his breath warm and incredibly familiar. "It was a last-minute bloodbath with their legal team this afternoon, but we broke them. The site is ours."
"I'm glad you're finally home," I whispered, resting my chin on his shoulder, letting my eyes close for just a second.
I wanted to live in this specific moment forever.
I wanted to freeze time right here, in the quiet, victorious aftermath, before the reality of his massive company could crash down on us again.
Reid pulled back, keeping one hand resting warmly on the small of my back. His dark eyes searched my face, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he actually saw me. He wasn't looking past me to a deadline, or a blueprint, or a ringing phone; he was looking directly at his wife.
"Wait right here," he said, a sudden spark of energy animating his exhausted features.
He walked back to his discarded briefcase in the foyer. When he returned to the kitchen, he was holding a small, square box covered in deep navy velvet. He set it gently on the pristine quartz countertop of the island and slid it across the smooth stone toward me.
I looked down at the velvet, my pulse giving a strange, hesitant flutter against my throat. "Reid, what is this?"
"It’s a thank you," he said softly, his tone completely stripped of its usual commanding edge.
He reached across the counter and covered my hand with his.
"Gwen, I know this acquisition has been hell on you.
I know I have been completely absent, and I know I have asked you to shoulder the weight of this marriage entirely on your own.
And I know how much it hurt you when I missed our weekend at the lighthouse. "
He swallowed hard, his thumb tracing the knuckles of my right hand, his gaze intensely focused on mine.
"I know I just asked you for more patience while I build this expansion phase.
But I needed you to know that I see you.
I see what you sacrifice for me. I wanted to get you something that proved I haven't forgotten who I am doing all of this for.
I am so incredibly sorry for leaving you on that island. "
My throat tightened, a thick, hot knot of emotion rising so fast I couldn't swallow it down. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached out and opened the stiff hinge of the velvet box.
Resting against a bed of white satin was a stunning, custom-designed necklace.
It was a delicate, intricate chain of platinum, featuring a brilliant, solitary teardrop diamond surrounded by a halo of smaller, flawless stones.
It was breathtakingly elegant, perfectly aligned with the understated, classic aesthetic I had always favored over the ostentatious, heavy jewelry the other corporate wives wore.
For a fleeting, beautiful moment, my heart absolutely soared.
He saw me. Beneath the suffocating layers of his ambition, beneath the endless travel and the brutal corporate maneuvering, my husband had stopped to think about me.
He had taken the time out of the absolute most critical week of his entire career to select something beautiful, specifically tailored to my taste, just to apologize for breaking my heart.
"Reid, it's... It's absolutely gorgeous," I whispered, the words catching on a sudden, overwhelming wave of tears that I refused to let fall.
"Turn around," he urged softly, picking the necklace up from the satin.
I turned my back to him, lifting my hair off my neck.
I felt the cool glide of the platinum chain against my collarbone, followed by the gentle, deliberate brush of his fingers against my skin as he fastened the intricate clasp.
The weight of the diamond settled perfectly against my chest, a tangible, physical anchor of his love.
"I'm going to open that bottle of Barolo we've been saving," Reid announced, stepping back and clapping his hands together, his energy fully restored by my reaction.
"We are going to order whatever you want from that Italian place down the street, and we are going to celebrate.
No phones, no emails, no business emergencies. Just us."
He had just retrieved the wine opener from a drawer when the sharp, piercing chime of the private elevator echoed through the loft.
Reid frowned, glancing toward the foyer. "That must be the courier with the wet-ink contracts. I told the legal team I wanted the physical copies locked in the home safe tonight so nothing could happen to them before morning."
He set the wine opener down on the counter and walked toward the foyer just as the steel doors slid open.
But it wasn't a nameless corporate courier standing in the elevator car.
Victoria Albright stepped into the penthouse.
She wore a razor-sharp charcoal blazer draped over a black silk camisole, her designer heels clicked authoritatively against the hardwood.
She carried a thick, leather-bound portfolio under one arm, looking entirely unfazed by the late hour or the grueling week they had just survived.
"I know it's incredibly late," Victoria said, her voice projecting effortlessly across the open floor plan. "But I didn't trust a bike messenger with the physical signatures. The sellers were acting so erratic this afternoon, I wanted to personally hand-deliver the transfer documents to your safe."
"Victoria, you didn't have to do that, you've been running on fumes," Reid said, though the profound relief in his voice was obvious. He took the heavy portfolio from her hands. "But thank you. I'll feel significantly better knowing they are locked up."
"It's my job to eliminate your liabilities," she replied smoothly, offering him a brilliant, perfectly calculated smile. She was an absolute master of highlighting her own indispensability to his operation.
"Let me put these in the office safe right now," Reid said, gesturing down the hallway toward the back of the loft. "Gwen, pour Victoria a glass of the Barolo. We're celebrating."
Reid turned and walked quickly down the hall, his footsteps disappearing into the private study.
The exact moment the heavy mahogany door clicked shut behind him, the atmosphere in the kitchen shifted, turning instantly brittle and suffocating.
I stood behind the quartz island, my hand unconsciously resting against the teardrop diamond resting at my throat.
Victoria didn't move toward the wine glasses. Instead, she walked slowly into the kitchen, her sharp, calculating eyes scanning the countertops until they landed directly on the open, empty navy velvet jeweler’s box sitting next to the espresso machine.
She stopped. A slow, warm, profoundly helpful smile spread across her flawlessly painted lips.
"Oh, I'm so glad the courier made it," Victoria said, her voice dropping into a register of intimate, conspiratorial relief.
"Reid wanted to get you something, but he was completely buried in the legal documents all afternoon. I told him I’d run down to the jeweler and pick it out so he wouldn't have to stress about managing the apology on top of the deal. "