Eight Years His Girlfriend, Thirty Days His Downfall - Chapter 9: Chapter 9
You are reading Eight Years His Girlfriend, Thirty Days His Downfall, Chapter 9: Chapter 9. Read more chapters of Eight Years His Girlfriend, Thirty Days His Downfall.
Along with my massive success came the death knell for Thorne Corp.
The day after our celebration dinner, an elderly figure came barging into Greaves Capital.
It was Lorraine.
She was shouting desperately toward the offices, her voice breaking:
"Rowan Sylver! I know you're in there! Come out! Just see me once!"
I watched the commotion in the lobby through my blinds, my expression cold.
The receptionist called me on the internal line, sounding uncomfortable:
"Ms. Sylver, Mrs. Thorne is insisting on seeing you. She's pretty upset..."
"Tell her I'm in a meeting. Ask her to leave."
My voice came through crystal clear on the intercom.
"You can't be this heartless! Callan's father is dying!"
"Please, he's always treated you like a daughter—just go see him! He keeps saying your name in his coma!"
"Ms. Sylver?" The receptionist's voice was questioning.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
"Tell her,"
my voice was even colder than before,
"it's business hours. I don't take personal visits."
I cut the line immediately.
Downstairs, Lorraine's heartbroken wailing gradually faded away.
I went right back to my project files.
The Thorne family's life-and-death drama belonged to a completely different world now.
Around midnight, I was jolted awake by my phone.
Still half-asleep, I picked up to Callan's completely unhinged screaming:
"Rowan! You heartless bitch! Are you even human anymore?"
"My mom begged you, my dad's dying in the ICU, and you won't even show your face?"
"I've got dirt on you that'll get you kicked out of Greaves too! You want me to leak it right fucking now?"
I listened quietly, then after a long pause, asked:
"Callan, are you done?"
Dead silence on the other end.
"The dirt you're talking about—is that those shady payments you made to Dexter under the table?"
"Or maybe those fake expense reports you used to embezzle money with my signature on them?"
I let out a little snort, my voice dripping with contempt:
"You should be grateful that Greaves wanted Hale Dynamics, not to destroy Thorne Corp."
"Otherwise, you and your father would be sharing a jail cell right now."
"You... you..."
Callan was so shocked he couldn't get the words out:
"You've been playing me this whole time? Rowan! You fucking snake!"
"Playing you?" I cut him off, my voice full of disgust:
"Callan, don't flatter yourself. Whether the Thorne family lives or dies? I couldn't care less."
"Don't call me again."
"Because I wouldn't mind showing you what real destruction looks like."
I hung up, and in the darkness, I felt nothing but numbness where my heart used to be.
This man who'd consumed eight years of my life, who I'd once thought was my whole world,
had finally shown me exactly how pathetic and ugly he really was.
The day after our celebration dinner, an elderly figure came barging into Greaves Capital.
It was Lorraine.
She was shouting desperately toward the offices, her voice breaking:
"Rowan Sylver! I know you're in there! Come out! Just see me once!"
I watched the commotion in the lobby through my blinds, my expression cold.
The receptionist called me on the internal line, sounding uncomfortable:
"Ms. Sylver, Mrs. Thorne is insisting on seeing you. She's pretty upset..."
"Tell her I'm in a meeting. Ask her to leave."
My voice came through crystal clear on the intercom.
"You can't be this heartless! Callan's father is dying!"
"Please, he's always treated you like a daughter—just go see him! He keeps saying your name in his coma!"
"Ms. Sylver?" The receptionist's voice was questioning.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
"Tell her,"
my voice was even colder than before,
"it's business hours. I don't take personal visits."
I cut the line immediately.
Downstairs, Lorraine's heartbroken wailing gradually faded away.
I went right back to my project files.
The Thorne family's life-and-death drama belonged to a completely different world now.
Around midnight, I was jolted awake by my phone.
Still half-asleep, I picked up to Callan's completely unhinged screaming:
"Rowan! You heartless bitch! Are you even human anymore?"
"My mom begged you, my dad's dying in the ICU, and you won't even show your face?"
"I've got dirt on you that'll get you kicked out of Greaves too! You want me to leak it right fucking now?"
I listened quietly, then after a long pause, asked:
"Callan, are you done?"
Dead silence on the other end.
"The dirt you're talking about—is that those shady payments you made to Dexter under the table?"
"Or maybe those fake expense reports you used to embezzle money with my signature on them?"
I let out a little snort, my voice dripping with contempt:
"You should be grateful that Greaves wanted Hale Dynamics, not to destroy Thorne Corp."
"Otherwise, you and your father would be sharing a jail cell right now."
"You... you..."
Callan was so shocked he couldn't get the words out:
"You've been playing me this whole time? Rowan! You fucking snake!"
"Playing you?" I cut him off, my voice full of disgust:
"Callan, don't flatter yourself. Whether the Thorne family lives or dies? I couldn't care less."
"Don't call me again."
"Because I wouldn't mind showing you what real destruction looks like."
I hung up, and in the darkness, I felt nothing but numbness where my heart used to be.
This man who'd consumed eight years of my life, who I'd once thought was my whole world,
had finally shown me exactly how pathetic and ugly he really was.
End of Eight Years His Girlfriend, Thirty Days His Downfall Chapter 9. Continue reading Chapter 10 or return to Eight Years His Girlfriend, Thirty Days His Downfall book page.