"Brother, you once asked for my help abroad. I’ve made up my mind. After tying up a few loose ends here, I’ll come find you."
Grayson Sawyer’s hand tightened around the phone, betraying the emotions he fought to conceal. This wasn’t a decision made lightly, but after another crushing betrayal, his path felt clearer.
The voice on the other end lit up with amusement, a playful tone slipping through. "Didn’t you say your wedding is in a week? What’s this sudden change? Are you leaving your bride behind, or has she decided to pack up and join you?"
Grayson’s expression remained unreadable, his tone calm yet firm. "The wedding’s off."
The voice on the other end hesitated, a note of disbelief creeping in. "What? I thought you two were solid. When you got engaged, she even…"
"Brother, like you said, that was in the past."
The dimly lit room fell into a heavy silence. The quiet stretched for a moment before the voice on the line sighed, carrying a hint of resignation. "Alright, just make sure you’ve thought it through. I was planning to attend the wedding when I came back to take care of business next week. Since it’s off, I’ll meet you at the airport instead."
"Okay."
As the call ended, Grayson sank into the sofa, his shoulders sagging under the weight of exhaustion. His eyes landed on the luxurious wedding photo adorning the wall, a masterpiece of carefully constructed happiness. He chuckled darkly, the sound more bitter than amused.
Suppose fate hadn’t led him to the CEO’s office that day, where Savannah Sullivan was wrapped in Spencer Stanford’s arms as though the world beyond them didn’t exist. In that case, he might have still been holding onto the dream of their life together.
But now, the tides had shifted, and everything had changed. Her heart no longer beats for him, leaving him with no reason to hold on.
After what felt like an eternity of silence, Grayson shrugged off his suit, the faint scent of whiskey clinging to the fabric. He stepped into the bathroom, letting the cold light and rushing water attempt to cleanse the fatigue etched into his being.
His stomach twisted into knots before he lurched over the toilet, retching until he was left gasping for air. Years of endless social events, drowning himself in liquor to secure business deals for Savannah’s company, had taken their toll on his body. Each toast had left him a little weaker, a little more broken.
But regret? That had never been part of the equation. At least back then, his sacrifices had spared Savannah from sleepless nights of worry.
Now, though…
The memory of her gentle touch as she handed him a bowl of hangover soup stabbed at his chest. Those moments felt like a lifetime ago.
Now, she poured her time and energy into someone else, her childhood friend, the one who had resurfaced claiming depression.
Not only did Savannah spend her days by Spencer’s side, but she dared to invite him into their home, blurring lines Grayson once believed sacred. What stoked his fury most was catching Spencer sneaking into Savannah’s room in the dead of night, not once, but repeatedly.
When confronted, Spencer had the gall to laugh it off, calling it sleepwalking.
It was laughable, pathetic, even.
If not for Savannah’s relentless defense of him, Grayson would have tossed Spencer out on his first so-called nocturnal stroll.
Stepping out of the shower, steam still curling around him, Grayson noticed something immediately: his discarded suit had vanished.
From the living room, a ripple of laughter floated toward him, igniting his irritation all over again.
As Grayson approached the living room, his footsteps faltered at the sight before him. Savannah stood locked in Spencer’s arms, their bodies entwined, their gazes brimming with an intimacy that twisted his stomach into knots.
A flash of movement drew his attention. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his suit, discarded like trash in the bin.
Just as Savannah leaned in, her lips hovering near Spencer’s, she caught sight of Grayson’s figure looming closer. The joy that had lit up her face vanished in an instant. She shoved Spencer away, her demeanor shifting with practiced ease.
"Grayson, I thought you weren’t home," she said.
Grayson smiled faintly, a gesture that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Did his absence grant them free rein to behave so shamelessly? The faint sound of water dripping from the bathroom echoed in the stillness, a quiet reminder of his presence they had so clearly overlooked.
"Did you throw away my suit?" he asked, his tone deceptively calm as he gestured toward the trash can. His dark eyes bore into them, unreadable yet carrying an undeniable weight.
Before Savannah could respond, Spencer stepped forward, wearing a look of feigned guilt. "It’s my fault. I noticed the suit was dirty and had a tear, so I assumed it was trash."
