?Chapter 112:


    She turned to confront him, ready to explode—but stopped herself. Her mother’s advice rang in her head. So she smiled instead, looping her arm through Marc’s with forced sweetness.


    “Marc, tomorrow’s banquet is huge. That project could save Walsh Group. You’ve got to secure it. My dad’s done a lot for you—and he said this is thest time he’ll step in.”


    She didn’t say it out loud, but her meaning was clear—he owed her.


    Not Ste. He should be grateful to her, not clinging to Ste.


    Marc snapped out of his daze at her words.


    She was right. He wasn’t at Briggs’ level—yet.


    If he could turn things around, rebuild Walsh Group’s reputation, climb back to the top, then maybe—maybe—Ste woulde crawling back.


    Later, Marc climbed into the car with Haley. That’s when she noticed it, a small plush sunflower dangling from the rearview mirror.


    Definitely not something a man like Marc would choose.


    Haley’s smile faltered, but she kept her tone light. “What’s this?”


    Marc nced at it, his face unreadable. He remembered exactly where it came from. Ste had hung it there one afternoon, calling it a scent sachet. He thought it was pointless at the time—but never took it down. After she left, it stayed. He got used to it.


    “I don’t like it,” Haley said, still smiling. “It doesn’t match your style. I’ll get you a new one. This one’s old—just toss it.” She blinked at him innocently, but inside, she was boiling.


    That little thing was a mark—a g that said Ste was here. And she wanted it gone.


    She looked at Marc expectantly, waiting for his reaction.


    Marc didn’t respond at first.


    L?t??τ ?нαρτ?rs ιn g??l??ov?ls.??????


    But as Ste’s face shed in his mind again—the look in her eyes, that red dress, the cold, dismissive tone—something snapped. Without a word, he reached up, tore the plush sunflower down, and tossed it out the window.


    “If you don’t like it, then it’s gone.”


    Ste swept into the vi, arms full of shopping bags, her mood still buoyant despite her run-in with Marc earlier.


    The moment she stepped inside, she spotted William sprawled on the living room sofa, the top buttons of his crisp shirt undone, long legs casually crossed—he looked as effortlessly elegant as a magazine cover.


    Caught off guard by his presence, Ste found herself staring a second too long before snapping out of it. She quickly averted her eyes, clutching her bags and heading for the stairs.


    .


    .


    .