When the Heart Knows

CHAPTER 4

Anderson Wright’s home was a fortress of modern luxury, a sprawling mansion of glass and steel perched on the edge of his estate. Normally, the grandeur of the place filled him with pride—proof of his relentless pursuit of perfection. Tonight, however, it felt like an empty monument to his isolation.

The driveway lights cast long shadows as his sleek car pulled into the garage. Andy stepped out, his expression tight as the events of the day replayed in his mind. Emilia Gomez had stormed out, and with her, she’d taken a piece of his carefully maintained control.

Inside, the warmth of the house did little to soothe his temper. The grand foyer, with its towering ceilings and intricate chandeliers, felt oppressive. Margaret Wright, his mother, waited in the living room, her piercing eyes already dissecting his mood.

“Andy?” she called softly, setting her book aside. “You look dreadful. What happened?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, tossing his coat onto a chair.

Margaret didn’t flinch. Her son had a gift for understatement, and tonight, his clipped tone was a dead giveaway.

“Sit down,” she said, gesturing to the chair across from her.

Andy reluctantly complied, running a hand through his dark hair. “I had a new hire—Emilia Gomez. She quit today.”

Margaret’s expression shifted. “Quit? After only three weeks?”

“She’s competent,” Andy admitted. “Too competent. And insufferably headstrong. She thought she could challenge me in my own boardroom.”

Margaret’s lips twitched, though she suppressed the smile threatening to break free. “And you didn’t like that.”

“It’s not about liking it,” Andy snapped. “It’s about respect. She crossed the line.”

“Or perhaps you don’t like being reminded that you’re not infallible,” Margaret countered smoothly.

Andy’s glare could have melted steel, but Margaret’s unflappable demeanor held steady. “She’s good at what she does,” he said grudgingly. “She was fixing things no one else noticed. And now she’s gone.”

Margaret’s voice softened. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

Andy’s jaw clenched. “I’ve already tried calling her. She ignored me.”

Margaret shrugged. “Then perhaps you need to show her that you’re worth listening to.”

Later, Andy retreated to his study, the fire casting flickering shadows across the room. His father, Henry Wright, was already there, a glass of brandy in hand.

“Margaret tells me your day was a mess,” Henry said without preamble.

Andy scowled, pouring himself a drink. “Why does everyone assume it’s my fault?”

Henry chuckled. “Because it usually is. Now tell me what happened.”

As Andy recounted the incident, his father listened in silence, his sharp eyes never leaving his son’s face.

“She walked out,” Andy finished, his frustration palpable.

“Good for her,” Henry said, swirling his brandy.

Andy blinked. “What?”

Henry’s smirk deepened. “She has a spine. If you want her back, you’ll have to show her that you’re not just another corporate tyrant.”

Andy snorted. “And how do I do that?”

“You’re a billionaire,” Henry said simply. “Figure it out.”

That night, Andy sat on the edge of his bed, the envelope containing Emilia’s appointment letter in his hands. Her address was neatly printed at the top.

He dialed her number again. Once. Twice. No answer.

The silence stretched on, filling the room with an oppressive weight. His frustration mounted, but beneath it was something else—an unfamiliar and unsettling sense of regret.

The door clicked shut behind Emilia, the metallic thud reverberating in the stillness of her apartment. She pressed her back against the cool surface, her chest rising and falling in measured breaths as she willed her pulse to slow. The chaos of the day churned in her mind, but for the first time in hours, she felt an inkling of control—like she’d finally stopped swimming against the tide.

Walking out of that boardroom had been both terrifying and exhilarating. The weight of Andy Wright’s sharp gaze and condescending tone still lingered in her thoughts, but the freedom she’d reclaimed was undeniable. Let him stew in his arrogance, she thought bitterly. Let him choke on it.

Her phone buzzed sharply in her bag, cutting through the silence like a razor. Emilia groaned, yanked it free, and glanced at the screen. Julian. Of course. His timing was impeccable, as always.

“What now?” she muttered to herself before answering. “Julian?” she said, her voice sharper than she intended.

“Emi,” he greeted, his tone soft but probing. “How are you holding up?”

She rolled her eyes, heading for the couch. “Why does everyone act like I’ve had some kind of meltdown? I’m fine. I handled it.”

“Handled it?” Julian echoed, his voice laced with disbelief. “You walked out of your job, Emilia. That’s not nothing.”

She flopped onto the cushions, irritation flaring. “You don’t get it. I’m not going to stand there and be treated like some disposable cog. If you’re here to lecture me—”

“Stop,” he cut in, his tone firm but apologetic. “I’m not here to lecture. I was wrong earlier, okay? I didn’t give you enough credit for standing your ground. I just… I don’t like seeing you put through this.”

Her lips parted in surprise. Julian rarely admitted he was wrong. She softened slightly but kept her guard up. “Well, I wasn’t about to sit there and take his nonsense.”

“Good,” he said, his voice warming. “You did the right thing, Emi. Even if I didn’t say it earlier, I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself.”

The unexpected praise took the edge off her frustration. She let out a breath, some of the tension in her shoulders easing. “I’m still annoyed at you.”

“I’ll take it,” he replied with a soft laugh. “But I’m not going anywhere. Even if you’re mad, I’ll still check in.”

“Fair enough,” she said grudgingly, her lips quirking into the smallest of smiles. “Thanks, Julian.”

“Get some rest, Emi. You’ve earned it.”

“Goodnight,” she murmured, ending the call and tossing the phone onto the table.

For a moment, the quiet wrapped around her like a soothing balm, but her mind refused to settle. Andy Wright’s biting tone replayed in her thoughts, a cruel reminder of the day’s events. Would he leave it at this? Or would he come after her, determined to prove he was untouchable?

The phone buzzed again. The sound jolted her, and she stared at it in confusion. The screen lit up with a name she didn’t expect—Anderson Wright.

Her stomach flipped. What now? Was this a demand to officially seal her resignation? An attempt to scold her some more? She glared at the phone as if it might offer answers. It didn’t.

Her fingers hovered over the screen, indecision clawing at her. The ringing stopped, but a second later, it started again.

He wasn’t giving up.

Emilia snatched the phone, her pulse pounding in her ears. She almost answered out of sheer annoyance, but her instincts screamed caution. If she picked up, she’d be walking right back into the storm she’d just escaped. Her thumb hovered over the decline button. Then it stopped ringing.

She stared at the blank screen, her breathing uneven. A wave of relief washed over her, but it was short-lived. Moments later, a notification popped up.

A voicemail.

Emilia’s heart sank. What now? She debated listening to it but hesitated. Knowing Andy, it could be a string of barbed words meant to put her back in her place—or worse, a calculated plea to lure her back.

Curiosity won out. Her fingers trembled as she tapped the screen, bringing the phone to her ear. The message started, Andy’s voice low and tense.

“Emilia, it’s Andy. We need to talk.”

She froze, her mind racing. There was no anger in his tone, but something else—urgency? Guilt? It threw her off, made her second-guess everything. What was he playing at?

The message ended abruptly, leaving her with more questions than answers. Her thumb hovered over the call button, but she dropped the phone onto the couch instead, standing abruptly. She paced the small living room, her thoughts spiraling.

Was this a trap? An apology? Did she even care enough to find out?

Her phone buzzed again. Another call. Anderson Wright.

This time, she didn’t pick it up. Let him wait. Let him feel a fraction of the frustration he’d caused her. But as the silence stretched, an uneasy thought crept in. What if this wasn’t about the job? What if it was something else entirely?

Whatever it was. It can wait. She was not ready to face him again, not this soon. She needs to cool off first and that is exactly what she will do.

She tossed her phone on the sofa, away from where she sat, and the thought of his words on voicemail kept ringing in her head;

“We need to talk”