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Delay 43

    <b>Chapter </b><b>43 </b>


    Reba’s POV


    64


    His words were the final match to the powder keg of emotions I’d been suppressing. <b>Five </b>years of being treated as a possession, of swallowing my pride to keep peace–all of itbusted inside me at once.


    My hand shot up before <b>I </b>could think<b>, </b>connecting with his cheek in a resounding p that echoed through the apartment. “You <b>are </b><b>a </b>disgrace to werewolves everywhere!<b>” </b>


    William’s head snapped <b>to </b><b>the </b>side, his <b>eyes </b>widening <b>in </b>shock before darkening to a dangerous amber. His lips pulled <b>back </b><b>in </b>a snarl<b>, </b>teeth elongating <b>as </b><b>he </b>raised his hand to strike back.


    Raymond moved with preternatural speed, stepping between us. “Mr. Moretti,” he said, his voice <b>deceptively </b>calm butced with threat, “Mr. Sterling would <b>not </b>appreciate you touching his assistant.”


    The name had immediate effect. William’s hand froze mid–air, his <b>eyes </b>flickering back to normal as uncertainty <b>reced </b>rage<b>. </b><b>He </b>took a step back, nostrils ring.


    “Take your things and get out,” he <b>spat</b><b>, </b><b>turning </b><b>away</b>.


    1 grabbed the box containing my remaining design supplies and sketches<b>, </b>clutching it to my chest like <b>a </b>shield. As Raymond escorted me <b>out</b>, I didn’t look back–though I could feel William’s hatred burning into my <b>spine</b>.


    In the Bentley, the reality of what had happened crashed <b>over </b>me. My shoulders began to shake with silent sobs.


    “Are you alright, Miss Brown<b>?</b><b>” </b>Raymond asked, concern evident in his voice as he nced at me through the rearview mirror.


    “No,” I whispered, not bothering to wipe the tears streaming down my face<b>. </b>“But it’s not about the clothes. It’s the designs<b>. </b>They were…<b>” </b>My voice broke. “They were everything.”


    Raymond handed me a box <b>of </b>tissues from the center console. “I’m sorry about your belongings.”


    <b>I </b>took a <b>tissue</b><b>, </b>dabbing at my eyes. “Those sketches were years of work. The only proof I had that I was talented at something.” I looked down at the <b>small </b>box in myp. “This is all I have left.”


    “Mr. Sterling <b>can </b>provide <b>you </b>with the best design tools and education<b>,</b>” Raymond <b>offered </b>gently.


    I shook my head, staring out the window as buildings blurred past. “You don’t understand. Those were mine. <b>My </b>creations, my memories. They were the source of my inspiration.” <b>I </b>traced my finger along <b>the </b>edge of the box. “They can’t be reced.”


    We rode in silence for several minutes before Raymond spoke again. “For what it’s worth, Miss Brown, I think you showed remarkable courage today,”


    <b>I </b>gave him a watery smile. “Thank you, Raymond. And thank you for stepping in when you did.”


    “It’s my <b>duty </b>to ensure your <b>safety</b>,” he replied formally, but I could see the kindness in his eyes.


    12:05 Mon, Sep <b>22 </b>


    64


    When we arrived at Dominic’s estate, Raymond insisted on carrying my box inside. Diana, the housekeeper, looked up from arranging flowers in the foyer, her expression softening when she saw my red–rimmed eyes.


    “Miss Brown, she greeted me gently.


    Raymond leaned close to her, speaking in a low voice I wasn’t meant to hear. “Her former fiancé destroyed her design work.”


    Diana’s eyes widened with understanding. She approached me, her hand briefly touching my <b>arm</b>. “Would you like some tea, dear?”


    I shook my head. “Thank you, but I’d prefer to be alone right now.”


    She nodded, respecting my wishes. Raymond set the box down, and I lifted it carefully, cradling it against my chest <b>as </b><b>I </b>climbed the stairs to my room.


    Once inside, I closed the door and sank onto the plush carpet, finally allowing myself to fully break down. I opened the box with trembling hands<b>, </b>carefully removing each remaining tool and sketch.


    I leafed through the few salvaged sketches–mostly rough drafts and early concepts that William must have overlooked. Each piece was a ghost of what had been lost, a painful reminder of destroyed possibilities.


    Curling around the box, I pulled my knees to my chest and let the tears flow freely. “Everyone <b>just </b>sees me as a transaction,” I whispered to the empty room. “William, and now Dominic.<b>” </b>


    The afternoon light faded as Iy there, emotionally drained. Eventually, exhaustion won out over grief<b>, </b>and I drifted into fitful sleep, tear tracks still damp on my cheeks<b>, </b>clutching the box <b>of </b>remnants to my chest.


    Dominic’s POV


    I was reviewing acquisition reports when Raymond entered my office after a brief knock.


    “Report,‘ I ordered, not looking up from myputer.


    “Miss Brown visited her friend this morning, as scheduled,” Raymond began. “Afterward, she requested to collect personal items from her former fiancé, William Moretti.”


    My head snapped up, eyes instantly sharpening. She went to see that dishonorable wolt? The pen in my hand stilled as heat rushed through my body.


    Raymond stood at attention, his posture rigid. “Only to retrieve her possessions, sit. I apanied her inside, as instructed.”


    I mmed my fist onto the desk, the mahogany cracking under the impact. My skin burned with rage, blood pounding in my ears. The wolf inside me howled for retribution, demanding freedom. “That pathetic excuse for a wolf dared to destroy what belongs to my- I cut myself off, inhaling sharply.


    My chest heaved as I fought for control. She wasn’t just mine Not yet. But the thought of another wolf touching her, hurting her, made <b>my </b>teeth ache with the need to elongate, to bite, to im.


    “And Moretti? Did he touch her?” The question came out as a snarl, my throat tight with barely contained fury.


    “He attempted to<b>, </b>sir. Miss Brown defended herself with considerable spirit. I intervened before he could retaliate.”


    I paced behind my desk, muscles coiled tight. The image of Reba facing that bastard alone made my blood boil. The wolf in me demanded I track William down immediately and tear him apart for daring to threaten what was mine.


    “Cancel all my meetings for the rest of the day,” I ordered, yanking my suit jacket from the back of my chair.


    <b>“</b><b>Yes</b><b>, </b>sir<b>, </b>Raymond replied, stepping aside <b>as </b>I stormed past him.


    <b>“</b>And Raymond-” I paused at the door, <b>“</b>-you did well today.”


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