Allison Knapp POV:
The look of shock on Jayson's face was absolute. It was as if I had spoken in a foreign language he couldn't comprehend. His world, so perfectly ordered and controlled, had just fractured.
"Break up? Resign?" he repeated, his voice tight with disbelief and rising anger. "Allison, do you have any idea what you're saying? Is this because I didn't come home last night?"
He immediately defaulted to the only logic he understood: this was my fault, my overreaction. It never occurred to him to look inward, to consider his own actions.
He took a step toward me, his presence filling the room, trying to intimidate me with his sheer size and power. It was a tactic that had worked before. "Take it back," he said, his voice a low command. "Stop this nonsense. We'll both calm down and talk."
He reached for my arm, intending to pull me against him, to end the argument with a physical dominance that would smother my words.
But I was expecting it. I took a half-step back, clutching the architectural model to my chest like a shield. His hand grasped at empty air.
The miss was a small thing, but it broke his control. His face darkened, the frustration of being denied turning his anger into something ugly. "Who do you think you are?" he snarled, his voice rising. "Where are you going to go, Allison? Without me? Without this firm? Don't forget, I made you!"
The words were poison, designed to cripple my confidence, to remind me of my place. A year ago, they might have worked. Now, they were just noise. I had anticipated this, too. I knew he would try to diminish me, to claim my success as his own. The fact that my design for Starlight Bridge was the primary reason we'd won that first competition was a detail he had long since forgotten.
I looked at his contorted face, at the rage of a spoiled child who had just had his favorite toy taken away. He was a stranger to me.
Just as the tension in the room reached its breaking point, as Jayson gathered himself to move toward me again, a clear, cheerful ringtone cut through the air.
My phone.
The sound was so incongruous, so normal, that it momentarily stunned us both into silence. Jayson's glare shifted, assuming it was his sister, Jessica, calling to mediate, to smooth things over as she so often did.
I calmly reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, glancing at the screen.
Jayson’s eyes followed the movement, and I saw him squint at the caller ID. It was a long string of numbers, an international code he didn't recognize, followed by a name.
"London - Foster & Partners."
I saw the name register in his mind. Foster & Partners. The holy grail. One of the most prestigious, most innovative architectural firms on the planet. His jaw tightened. A dark, ugly premonition washed over his face.
Why would they be calling me?
While he was still processing, while his world was tilting on its axis, I answered the call. I turned my body slightly away from him and allowed a genuine smile to touch my lips—a bright, confident, hopeful smile he hadn't seen in years.
I spoke, my voice clear and professional, the American accent softening into the crisp, precise English I'd perfected during a semester abroad.
"Yes, Mr. Davies, this is Allison Knapp. I'm calling to confirm…"
