Chapter 4 Make That Story Disappear

A knot formed in Dayna's stomach as she caught sight of her own profile on the magazine cover. Without thinking, she glanced at Vincent, worried he would take it the wrong way. "I was just heading home last night-"

Her voice faltered when she saw Vincent open the magazine.

He turned the pages until he reached a full spread that laid out every detail of her history with Michael.

Irritation flared. Why would anyone waste time spinning this into a headline?

She opened her mouth to set things straight, but the phone rang, breaking the tension.

Vincent answered, and Zayne's voice filtered through. "Mr. Clarke, Michael Barnett went public with a press conference this morning. He's telling everyone he and his first love are back together. Apex Entertainment is running with it. It won't take long before people realize he's talking about Mrs. Clarke."

A cold silence filled the room.

Seated so close, Dayna heard every word. Panic shot through her. She leapt to her feet, voice ringing with urgency. "That's a lie. Michael and I haven't spoken in years!"

She reached out to grab the phone, nearly losing her balance in her haste. Vincent caught her around the waist, steadying her without breaking stride, his focus still on the call.

His words were ice. "You have one minute. Make that story disappear."

"Yes, sir." Zayne's reply was crisp before the call ended.

The magazine featured a photo of a pair of matching watches, claiming they were symbols of a love that had never faded.

Vincent remembered seeing a woman's watch-identical to the one in the photo-tucked away in Dayna's vanity drawer, matching the one shown in the spread.

Maybe if she hadn't kept the watch, he would believe her heart was truly free from the past.

Vincent's silence pressed in around her, and worry twisted in Dayna's gut.

Without another word, he rose from the table and strode toward his study. "I have work to do. Eat your breakfast," he said, his tone flat and final.

Once inside, he sat behind his desk, opened his laptop, and stared at the screen without seeing a thing.

His mind wandered back to a call just two days ago. She had answered while visiting her family, and he had overheard the entire conversation.

The pressure from the Roberts family had been relentless-pushing her to give him a child, as if a baby would tie their fates and fortunes together.

For her family's sake, Dayna had stayed in this marriage, bound by responsibility instead of desire.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Dayna found herself restless and uneasy.

She paced the hallway outside his study, then finally tapped on the door.

"Come in."

Vincent's voice, muffled but unmistakable, reached her from inside.

Sunlight filled the room, pooling gold across polished floors.

Behind his desk, Vincent looked every inch the composed businessman, surrounded by piles of documents and quiet command.

He raised his eyes, steady and unreadable. "Is something wrong?"

Dayna stepped closer, her hands twisting nervously. "I don't know if you let that story get to you, but I wanted you to hear my side."

A flicker of surprise crossed Vincent's face, his pen slipping from his grasp and clattering onto the desk.

Dayna kept her voice low and steady. "I had no idea Michael would be there last night. There's nothing between us, not anymore. And about that watch-people have it all wrong. It was a birthday gift from my mother when I turned eighteen. Michael only bought the same one because he liked the style. That's the whole story."

She finished, raising her eyes to see how he would take it.

Vincent's face gave away nothing, unreadable as ever.

She wondered, was she trying to convince him for his sake-or just afraid he would take his anger out on her family?

Just then, her phone buzzed. She glanced down. It was Clara Gordon, her assistant.

Uncertain, Dayna hesitated, but her thumb brushed the answer button by accident.

Clara's voice rang out in the study, slicing through the quiet. "Dayna, the chairman needs you at the office right now."

"Understood." She hung up, turning to say more to Vincent, only to see him already standing, reaching for his jacket.

"I'm heading to the company too. I'll drive you," he said, pausing only long enough to meet her eyes before moving for the door.

Words still caught in her throat, Dayna hurried after him.

Outside, the car idled by the curb. Vincent stood by the open door, waiting. When he realized she wasn't right behind him, he glanced over his shoulder.

Moments later, she appeared, handbag in hand and dressed for the office-a soft pink silk blouse paired with a sleek pencil skirt, her hair falling in polished waves down her back. Even without makeup, there was an easy grace to her.

Vincent gave her a quick look, then slipped into the car. "Roberts Group," he instructed David.

Vincent spent the entire drive fielding one business call after another, barely leaving a gap for conversation.

Once they reached Roberts Group, Dayna slipped out of the car, her heels tapping softly as she made her way toward the front entrance.

Vincent lingered for a moment, eyes following her silhouette until the glass doors closed behind her. Only then did he finally look away.

From the driver's seat, David glanced back. "Sir, Mrs. Clarke left her bag."

Vincent turned to find a delicate designer purse resting on the seat, forgotten in her haste.