Chapter 2 Let's End This Now

A flush spread across Janice's cheeks as she instinctively drew back, but she accepted the pastry.

She took a tentative bite, leaving a dusting of crumbs on her lips.

Bryson, without hesitation, leaned in and gently brushed them away with a tissue.

His cool fingertips grazed her lips through the thin paper-so casual, so precise, his usual fastidiousness nowhere in sight.

"Why don't you stay the night here instead of going back?" Bryson's voice softened as he met Janice's eyes.

Color rushed into Janice's face. She dropped her gaze and nodded, voice barely more than a whisper. "Okay."

Madelyn stood silently on the sidelines, watching as Bryson's attention never wavered from Janice. The sight left a dull ache in her chest, every breath feeling tight and shallow.

Several months back, Madelyn had been pressured into drinking at a client dinner, the aftereffects leaving her with a vicious stomach ulcer. She spent two miserable weeks in the hospital, barely able to swallow a bite, her body growing gaunt and frail.

Throughout that ordeal, Bryson hadn't shown up once-always excusing himself with endless work, too busy to even check in.

Yet here he was now, doting over another woman. He'd just brushed the pastry crumbs off Janice's lips himself, his movements gentle and careful, as if afraid she might break.

A dull ache twisted through Madelyn's chest, though her face betrayed nothing.

Catching the look in Madelyn's eyes, Janice's cheeks bloomed with color. "It's Bryson's first time introducing me to his family. He knows I get nervous, so he's being especially thoughtful. I hope you don't take offense, Miss Dixon," she murmured.

Of course, Madelyn knew exactly where she stood. Bryson's family had never warmed to her.

The first time he brought her to the house, any illusion of warmth was shattered-there were no gentle welcomes, just his mother, Julissa Brennan's biting jabs and a string of veiled insults. She'd barely set her purse down before being conscripted to serve tea to Brianna, forced to stand dutifully by until her legs ached and she could finally sit.

Brianna's harsh words echoed even now. "You're just a pretty face in PR, meant for pouring drinks-not for latching onto our Mills family. Know your place!"

After that humiliating visit, Madelyn avoided their mansion as much as possible.

If it weren't for today's urgent contract, she would have happily steered clear of all this icy disdain.

Janice, however, belonged in their world. As the pampered daughter of Robert Sutton, a jewelry mogul with a fortune and spotless reputation, she moved through these gilded halls with effortless grace-a young woman bred to be adored and protected.

"You're too gracious, Miss Sutton," Madelyn replied with a polished smile, masking every flicker of unease.

She had spent years by Bryson's side, always keeping her head down, never asking for protection, never daring to expect a hint of his affection.

Still, the least he owed her was a simple heads-up before parading a new woman into his life.

She wasn't the type to make a scene or beg for scraps.

"I'm sorry, I need to use the bathroom for a moment," Madelyn remarked, her voice tight as she searched for an escape-anywhere she could steady her spiraling thoughts.

After splashing cold water on her face, she stepped out into the dim corridor, only to run straight into a broad, unyielding chest.

Bryson towered in front of her, exuding that familiar air of cold detachment.

His expensive black shirt was now flecked with white dog hair, but he didn't so much as brush it off or wrinkle his nose in distaste.

He lingered in the hallway, arms folded, his posture radiating authority. With a glance as sharp as ice, he finally spoke-voice clipped, leaving no room for argument. "Show Janice some respect."

Madelyn pressed her lips together, steadying her voice as she demanded, "And what exactly does respect look like to you?"

Bryson's gaze locked onto hers, an edge of challenge glinting in his eyes-catching the hint of defiance in her usually restrained expression.

A crooked smirk tugged at his lips as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingertips lingering for an extra beat, gently squeezing her earlobe.

With a level, almost indifferent tone, he told her, "She's pure-nothing like you. Stay away from her."

Madelyn hadn't clawed her way to the top of Brennan Group's PR department without learning how to handle the parade of jealous women in Bryson's orbit, but this was different-this was him warning her off, as if she were the threat.

His attitude wasn't harsh, not exactly. But when he drew that line-"She's pure-nothing like you"-something sharp and bitter lodged in Madelyn's chest.

Madelyn stared at him, her tone edged with challenge. "So I'm tainted now? Is that what you think-just because of my job?"

Bryson sidestepped her accusation, his voice sharp and measured. "Janice starts at the company tomorrow. Make sure Ramona keeps an eye on her."

Ramona Williams-Madelyn's best friend and Bryson's right hand in the executive office-stood as a quiet pillar of support.

The executive office wasn't like PR; under Bryson's watchful gaze, it was a fortress, untouchable.

Madelyn had spent years navigating the treacherous waters of PR. She'd crossed paths with every kind of manipulator-sharp-tongued, predatory men who lurked behind polite smiles, always looking for an opening. After every night of forced smiles and endless rounds of drinks, she returned home bone-tired, drained from fending off their sleazy advances and hollow flattery.

In the past, she'd floated the idea of moving into the executive office, hoping for a lighter workload as an assistant.

Bryson had brushed her off. "The PR department is the backbone of this company. I put you there because I trust you with what matters most."

Yet, when Janice was involved, he went out of his way to shield her, never allowing her to take on anything too demanding.

A sense of injustice twisted inside Madelyn. They all dismissed her because of her job entertaining clients, ignoring the real reasons she'd managed to hold that ground for so long.

Her eyes dropped, quietly masking every raw emotion. In a voice that betrayed nothing, she queried, "So, you really care about her?"

Bryson's answer was grave, leaving no room for doubt. "I do."

A sudden ache lanced through Madelyn's chest, raw and unyielding.

Her voice quivered, the opulent walls of the Mills Mansion blurring around her as she blurted, "And what about me? After all these years, what am I to you?"

Bryson leaned in, pressing his forehead gently to hers, his breath ghosting over her lips as he answered in a tired, almost defeated whisper, "Nothing is going to change between us."

A hollow laugh slipped from Madelyn, the bitter edge unmistakable. She understood perfectly-in public, she would always be the sharp, unflappable PR director; behind closed doors, just the loyal woman who quietly stood in his shadow. That was the future he offered: nothing would change, because he'd never intended to give her anything more.

Her hands curled into fists, nails biting into her palms as she forced herself to look away, voice steady but cold. "I refuse to be your second option, Bryson. If you've made your choice, then let's end this now."