Billionaire's Regret: Losing Me And Our Son - Chapter 52: Chapter 52

I was instantly wide awake. "What happened?"
A flood of worst-case scenarios ran through my head. Did something go wrong with the Dazzle Group project? Did Georgia stir up trouble again? Or was there some new rumor circulating?
"Come to the office. I'll explain in person," Quinn said in a serious tone before hanging up.
No time to overthink. I didn't even bother fixing my hair. Grabbing my keys, I headed straight to the Madden Group building.
It was already 10 PM, and the place was deserted. Only the light from Quinn's top-floor office was visible as I stood outside. Assuming there was an emergency meeting, I rushed to the elevator and headed up.
When I got to his office, I froze. There was no meeting. No people. Just him.
His suit jacket was draped over a chair, and in the warm office, he'd rolled up his sleeves. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, revealing his collarbone.
He was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the city. When he noticed me, he turned, his dark eyes locking on mine, saying nothing.
"What's going on?" I asked, confused. "Didn't you call me here for an emergency meeting?"
He scoffed, looking away. "I heard you went to your father's birthday party."
Sure, I knew he wasn't happy about the Hinton family throwing his name around, but dragging me to the office this late?
Annoyed but also guilty, I nodded. "Yeah, but I didn't know what they were planning until I got there."
"Stupid," he said coldly.
I bit my tongue. "Are you done lecturing me? Because if you are, I'd like to go back to sleep."
"Report your work," he said abruptly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I blinked at him. "What?"
"You're the COO. Don't you have work updates for me?"
"Right now?"
"Got a problem with that?" His brows arched slightly.
It hit me then—this wasn't about work. He just wanted to mess with me.
But since I technically worked for him, I had no choice. Pushing down my irritation, I forced a smile. "Fine. Can I borrow your computer?"
He nodded. I opened his laptop, downloaded the latest reports from my email, and started going over them point by point.
To my surprise, he actually listened. Sitting on the leather couch, he watched me with a focus that felt almost unsettling. He didn't look away for the two hours it took me to finish.
By the time I wrapped up, it was 1 AM. My throat was dry, my eyes felt heavy, and I could barely stay upright. "That's all, Mr. Madden," I said, barely stifling a yawn.
"Not bad," he said, as if it had been no big deal.
I let out a tired sigh. "Great. Can I leave now?"
"We'll leave together," he said, already heading out the door.
I followed him to the elevator, leaning back against the wall, half-asleep as the numbers on the panel ticked down.
Suddenly, with a loud bang, the elevator jolted to a stop. The lights flickered out, and the panel went blank.
The elevator had stopped.
My stomach dropped as the darkness closed in, and I was hit with a rush of panic.
Quinn turned on his phone flashlight and tried pressing the emergency button, but nothing happened. "Do you have service?" he asked, frowning at his own phone.
I pulled out mine, checked, and shook my head. My mouth went dry. My chest tightened, and my legs gave out. I slid down the wall, curling into myself.
"What's wrong?" Quinn crouched down, his voice sharp with concern.
I couldn't answer. My mind was spiraling, stuck on memories of being trapped in a dark room. The suffocating, hopeless feeling was overwhelming.
"Claustrophobia," Quinn muttered, realization dawning. He knelt beside me, wrapping his arms around me gently. "Natalia, listen to me. Close your eyes. Don't think about anything else. Just focus on my voice."
With my eyes squeezed shut, I heard Quinn's voice. "Someone's always watching the monitors. The security team should have picked up on the elevator problem by now. They'll be here any minute. Don't panic."
I knew he was right, but I couldn't stop trembling. My breathing turned shallow, and my chest felt tighter, like I was suffocating.
Just as I thought I'd completely lose it, he cupped the back of my head and leaned down, pressing his lips to mine.
My eyes flew open in shock, but the sheer surprise cut through my panic. The trembling stopped, and I found myself staring into his steady, dark eyes. Bit by bit, my breathing slowed, and the fog in my head started to lift.
Then, with a soft ding, the elevator lights flickered back on. The doors slid open, and bright light poured in, making us squint.
Before I could move, two voices called out—
"Mr. Madden, are you alright?"
"Oh, um... sorry to interrupt!"
Realizing Quinn and I were still kissing, I jerked back, my face flaming. Could this get any more mortifying?
The security guards were clearly trying not to stare, but their sideways glances said it all.
"Thanks for... helping me," I stammered, avoiding his gaze as I scrambled to my feet. "I'm heading home." I practically ran out of the building.
Driving home, I was wide awake, the events replaying in my mind on an endless loop. Even after getting into bed, I couldn't stop thinking about it.
We were divorced. I knew that. But the moment he kissed me, my heart had raced.
What did it mean?
Probably nothing, I told myself. He'd kissed me to calm me down, and I'd only reacted because I was vulnerable.
Still, my thoughts were a mess. Forcing myself to stop overthinking, I eventually drifted off.
The next morning, as I was getting ready for work, the doorbell rang.
"Who is it?" I called, opening the door.
"It's me, ma'am." Standing outside was Drake, the old mansion's butler.
He gave me a polite bow. "Mr. Madden has asked to see you at the old mansion."
I stared at him, confused. "Do you know why?"
If Alex wanted to talk, why didn't he just call? And how did he even know I was living here?