His Favorite Mistake

Chapter 13

I pulled out of Clara’s street and joined the morning traffic.

The city was already loud. Horns. Buses. People crossing without looking. I loosened my tie and kept one hand on the wheel. Two full days since I last walked into that house. Esther’s face flashed in my mind. Quiet. Useless. My jaw locked. I pushed the image away and focused on the road.

I needed the office.

Calls sat unanswered on my phone. One from the night I left the house still waited. I had silenced it without checking.

I parked in my spot and stepped out. The glass doors of Vance Holdings opened. Two staff members straightened.

“Good morning, Mr. Vance.”

I nodded and kept walking. The elevator carried me to the executive floor. Daniel stood waiting with a tablet.

“Sir. Finance is asking for a short meeting. And the Eastbridge-Meridian Project team has called twice this morning.”

“Tell Finance after lunch. They should be ready by twelve. I don’t want what happened the other time to repeat itself.”

“Sorry, Boss.”

He shifted his weight. “They’re asking about a reference number from the Meridian file. The one you said you would confirm when you come to the office.”

I stopped.

“I know I said I’d come, but I couldn’t make it. Is that a problem to you or anyone?”

“No, sir. We waited. When we didn’t see you, the secretary sent them a message.”

“Good. Competency is what you need to work here. Just make sure it’s handled properly.”

“Yes, sir. It’s the Meridian reference. They need it before they can process the next transfer for the Eastbridge-Meridian Project.”

I turned toward my office.

“I thought I had it here. Hold on a minute.”

I stepped inside, left the door open, and went straight to the desk. I pulled open the top drawer. Papers shifted under my fingers. I pushed them aside one by one. Empty. I opened the second drawer. More folders. I flipped each one open, checked the tabs, closed them again. Nothing. I moved to the side cabinet, turned the handle, and pulled it wide. Rows of files stared back. I ran my hand along the spines, pulled two out, checked inside, and shoved them back. Still empty.

Daniel remained by the door.

I picked up my phone and scrolled to Esther’s name. The number should have been in the folder on the study desk at home. She always answered on the first ring.

I tapped the call button.

It rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Four.

Five.

No answer.

I lowered the phone and stared at the screen. The call ended on its own.

I called again.

The same empty ringing filled my ear.

What is wrong with her?

She always picked up. Even when she was upset. Even when she claimed I had offended her. The phone never rang out.

My jaw tightened. I tried a third time.

Nothing.

“Sir?” Daniel asked.

“Tell Finance I’ll get the number. Give me ten minutes.”

I shut the door with more force than needed. The skyline stretched out beyond the glass, clean and ordered. I dropped into the chair and stared at Esther’s contact. No message. No missed call from her side.

Why isn’t she answering? Now that I need her?

Heat gathered under my ribs. The transfer for the Eastbridge-Meridian Project could not move without that number. She was ignoring the call as if her time mattered more than mine.

I threw the phone onto the desk. It slid across the surface and stopped near the edge.

A soft knock came at the door. Daniel opened it a few inches.

“Sir, Adrian Hale from Hartwell & Co. sent a message. He’s asking if you have a moment regarding the Meridian proposal.”

Adrian Hale.

The name scraped across my nerves. Managing Director at Hartwell & Co., one of the partner firms on the Eastbridge-Meridian Project. Competent. Well-liked. The kind of man people mentioned when talk turned to future partnerships.

“Tell him I’m busy. And don’t mention anything about the reference number.”

Daniel nodded and left.

I turned to the laptop and opened the internal system. Folders filled the screen. I clicked one. Then another. Old emails stacked in rows. I opened three, scanned the subject lines, closed them. Scanned documents appeared next. I scrolled slowly, eyes moving down the list. One file name stopped me. I clicked it open.

There.

The Meridian reference number sat on the screen.

My hand stayed on the mouse. I leaned back in the chair.

It had been here the whole time.

Air left my nose in a slow stream. I had called her three times for nothing. She had not picked up once.

Daniel appeared again.

“Sir, Sienna from Hartwell & Co. is downstairs. She’s here for the documents her managing director requested on the Eastbridge-Meridian Project.”

I lifted my head.

“Send her up.”

He paused. “She said she can collect them from reception if it’s more convenient.”

My jaw locked.

“I said send her up.”

A few minutes later the door opened.

Sienna stepped in wearing a tailored navy dress, tablet held against her chest. Her eyes moved toward me and then away.

“Mr. Vance. Good morning. I was told the documents are ready.”

I pointed to the chair.

“Sit.”

She hesitated, then sat. I remained on my feet.

“You were downstairs,” I said. “You planned to take the files and leave without coming up. Even after we chatted this morning, I thought you would be happy to see me.”

Her fingers tightened on the tablet.

“I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“That’s not the reason.”

She raised her eyes carefully.

“I’m just here for the documents, Mr. Vance.”

I let a small smile form.

“Hey. No one is arguing that with you.”

I studied the straight line of her back and the space she kept between us.

“You’re avoiding me. Is it because I’m married?”

Her throat shifted.

“I respect the fact that you are, sir.”

I stepped closer.

“Respect is a convenient word. People use it when they want to stay away from married men. You know we married people also need friends. Someone we can talk to. You don’t have to be scared of us.”

She edged backward in the chair. The chair legs scraped a short distance across the floor. The tablet pressed tighter against her chest. Her knuckles turned pale.

“Or does marriage suddenly make us evil?”

Silence filled the office. Outside, phones rang and voices murmured. Inside, the air stayed still.

I stepped back.

“The documents you have… hope they were carefully signed. Let me check.”

She handed the folder over at once. I flipped through the pages one by one. The Eastbridge-Meridian paperwork sat in order. I turned each sheet slowly, eyes moving down the signatures, before returning the folder.

“Alright.”

She took the folder, gathered her things, and walked toward the door.

“Thank you, Mr. Vance.”

“Sienna.”

She stopped, hand on the handle.

“Next time,” I said, “don’t hide downstairs.”

She gave a short nod and stepped out. The door closed behind her with a soft click.

I stood facing the closed door. My phone buzzed on the desk.

Unknown number.

I picked it up.

The voice on the other end came calm and male.

“Mr. Vance. We need to talk about the Eastbridge-Meridian documents that just left your office. And a few other things you’ve been ignoring.”

My spine straightened.

“Who is this?”

A short pause.

“Someone who knows exactly how big you’re messing with the organisation.”

The call ended.