Breaking The Rules

Chapter 10

My secretary appeared in the doorway almost instantly, her eyes wide, having clearly heard the shouting matches echoing through the drywall.

“Get this woman out of my office immediately,” I commanded, keeping my tear-streaked eyes locked coldly on Deborah.

Tiana blinked, utterly paralyzed. “Ma'am?”

“You heard me!” My voice echoed off the walls. “Take her out. Now.”

Tiana slowly turned her head toward Deborah, our beloved 'Aunty,' the woman who had brought us coffee during the late-night reception, who had cried tears of joy at my wedding. The secretary looked physically sick trying to process the command.

“Aunty . . .” Tiana whispered, her voice breaking.

A heavy wave of nauseating remorse finally surged upward, threatening to choke me. I wanted to scream that I was sorry, to fall to my knees and beg for her forgiveness. But I forced my jaw shut, wrapping my shattered pride around myself like armor, pretending I didn't care.

“It’s fine, Tiana. I’ll walk out myself,” Deborah finally found her voice, though it was barely a whisper.

She grabbed her handbag from the back of the chair, her fingers white-knuckled against the strap. She turned and walked toward the door. But right before stepping across the threshold, she paused, her hand gripping the brass handle. She looked back over her shoulder one last time.

The tears she had fought so hard to hold back finally broke free, streaming down her face in silent, heartbreaking rivers.

“It’s not fair, Sandra,” she choked out softly.

Then she stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind her. Tiana trailed silently in her wake, leaving me entirely alone in the suffocating quiet.

The silence rushed back in, deafening and brutal.

I stared blankly at the closed door.

What have I done?

She was my best friend. My anchor. The singular person who had stood by my side when the rest of the world turned their backs.

And I had just shattered our history, throwing her out into the cold because of a poison-laced text message from a monster.

From Harrison.

Suddenly, the phone in my hand vibrated against my palm, rattling violently.

Slowly, like moving in a waking nightmare, I lifted the screen.

Another message had arrived.

I held my breath, my thumb trembling as I looked down at it.

This time, it wasn't words.

It was a photograph.

I hurriedly tapped the message notification, my thumb trembling over the glass, expecting to see whatever vile, secretive photograph Harrison had cooked up to shatter my world. Instead, a bank transfer receipt filled the screen. The sender’s name meant nothing to me, it was a stranger’s number, completely unsaved in my phone contacts.

Before my racing mind could make sense of it, my phone lit up with an incoming call.

Dad.

“Hi, Dad,” I answered softly, trying to steady my ragged breath.

“Hello, my little angel!” His voice boomed through the speaker, brimming with an infectious, triumphant excitement. But what on earth did he have to be excited about in the middle of our nightmare? “How are you holding up, my dear?”

“I'm fine, Dad. How are you?”

“I'm doing very well, sweetheart. Did you receive a transfer receipt just now?” he asked eagerly.

“Uhh, yes, Daddy. It popped up just a second ago,” I replied, my pulse quickening as I waited for the missing piece.

“That's wonderful! We’ve managed to transfer a million dollars to the account details you gave me when you visited,” my dad explained, relief lacing his tone. “That was every single cent we could pull together on such short notice.”

I let out an involuntary scream of pure, unadulterated joy, clutching the phone tightly against my ear.

A million dollars!

That was half the total amount. Half of Tony's life worked, saved in a single breath.

“What? Daddy, are you serious right now?”

Tears of sheer relief threatened to spill over my eyelashes, a warm wave of hope washing through my chest.

“Yes, my daughter. I've been trying to call your husband's line for the past hour, but he isn't answering. That's why I decided to send the confirmation straight to you.”

“It's fine . . . it's completely okay! I'll break the news to him the moment I get home. Thank you so much, Dad. You have no idea what this means to us.”

“Anytime, my dear. We'll talk later, okay?”

“Okay!”

The line went dead, leaving me standing in the middle of the room, my heart soaring.

Yes! We did it!

If we had secured half of the money already, gathering the remaining half couldn't possibly be an insurmountable obstacle. Tony had mentioned reaching out to Lucas as a reliable backup option. Surely, Lucas would be able to contribute a substantial chunk. We could combine his help with whatever funds Deborah managed to bring to the table—

At the mere thought of her name, my stomach plummeted off a cliff.

A cold, sickening weight settled straight in the center of my chest. How could I possibly swallow my pride and ask her about money now, after the cruel, unforgiving way I had thrown her out of my office just minutes ago? The echo of her tearful, heartbroken voice: “It’s not fair, Sandra," iced straight through my victory.

I shook my head violently, trying to push the guilt into the dark. No. Focus. Hurry home and give Tony the news.

I glanced down at my watch: 3:33 p.m.

He had to be back at the house by now. Ever since this crisis erupted, he had been coming home earlier and earlier every afternoon, swearing that the quiet of our house was the only place left where he could think straight without pressuring eyes on him.

When I pulled up into the driveway, my instincts were proven right; his sedan was parked out front.

I hurried inside, but the moment I stepped into the living room, the heavy, suffocating aura surrounding him made me freeze. I had known this situation was taking a devastating toll on his mind, on our marriage, but I had never seen him look so thoroughly hollowed out.

He sat on the edge of the sofa, looking utterly fed up with life itself.

“Darling, what happened again?” I asked gently, after he answered my soft greeting with a low, lifeless grunt.

He dragged both hands violently through his hair, leaving the strands messily disheveled.

“You're home early today,” he muttered, his eyes glued to the floorboards.

“Are you trying to avoid the topic?”

“Baby, this is a tough time for me!” he snapped suddenly, his voice cracking with built-up exhaustion. “You can't honestly expect me to be walking around here laughing and smiling!”

The harshness of his own tone caught him off guard. He swallowed hard, rubbing his tired eyes, and let out a long, ragged sigh.

“Okay, look... I'm sorry,” he whispered, reaching out to enclose my trembling hands in his cold grip. “A lot is just crashing down on me all at once.”

“I have good news,” I announced, forcing a bright spark into my voice.

He blinked, staring at me in sheer confusion. “What is it?”

“By the way, where's your phone?” I asked, glancing around the room.

He looked around aimlessly. “Maybe I left it on the kitchen counter when I went to grab a glass of water. Just tell me the good news you have, Sandra. Please. I'll search for the phone later,” he said, his voice tight with anxiety.

“Okay, well, Dad called—”

“And? Can you please just say it already?” he yelled, his nerves frayed to the absolute limit.

“Fine! He sent a million dollars!” I blurted out.