A Billionaire's Love

Chapter 11

Dylan glanced back at Chloe, who was standing there in front of his desk, her posture tense, her lips slightly parted as though she had something more to say. Her blue eyes held a flicker of confusion, and he could feel the weight of her unspoken questions. But he didn’t give her the chance. With a deliberate, controlled motion, he stood from his chair, shoulders squared, conviction solidifying within him.

"Abort the project," Dylan said, his voice devoid of hesitation.

Chloe blinked, clearly startled. She held a thick folder of documents, the finalized paperwork for the publication of Hotel de Montemayor. The project was in its final stages. The launch was scheduled. Everything was set. And yet here was Dylan, tossing it aside.

“Wait… really, Dylan?” Chloe stammered, taking a step closer to his desk, her confusion growing by the second. “I mean, we’re almost there. The press is lined up, the promotional materials are printed. Besides—” she hesitated, her voice softening—"this is the dream of your fiancée, right? Kaye would have wanted to continue this project.”

At the mention of Kaye, something flickered in Dylan’s eyes—pain, perhaps—but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He looked away from Chloe, staring instead at the view outside his office window. The city was busy, bustling with life and energy, the antithesis of what he felt inside.

“I said what I said, Chloe,” Dylan replied, his tone final. “Abort the mission.”

Chloe stood frozen for a moment, her hands clutching the folder as though it could anchor her in this sudden, shifting reality. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The Hotel de Montemayor project had been Kaye’s passion, a personal endeavor she had spent years researching. Chloe had watched from the sidelines as Kaye’s vision unfolded, gaining support from major publications, securing funding, and bringing attention to a piece of history that had been lost for decades. The idea of pulling the plug now, so close to the finish line, was incomprehensible.

“Dylan…” Chloe began, her voice cautious, trying to understand, “what’s going on? This doesn’t make sense. We’ve invested too much into this, and more than that, you’ve invested so much. Kaye’s name is all over this project—she would want—”

“Make contact with the Red Publication Company,” Dylan interrupted, his voice colder now, cutting through her protests like ice. “Arrange a meeting as soon as possible. I’ll tell them myself that F. Newspapers and Magazines Company will gladly breach the contract for the publication of Hotel de Montemayor.”

Chloe’s mouth fell open slightly in disbelief. “And what if they sue you?” she asked, her voice rising with frustration. “This is breach of contract, Dylan. You can’t just walk away from something like this. There are legal repercussions.”

“They have the right to sue me,” Dylan said, turning his gaze back to her, his eyes flat, emotionless. “To file a legal case, to go after the company, all of it. But I said what I said.”

The silence that followed was thick and oppressive. Chloe’s mind raced, trying to make sense of this decision, trying to connect the dots, but there were too many missing pieces. Dylan had always been methodical, strategic—he wouldn’t take a step like this without a reason. But no reason came to her. Kaye’s name hung in the air like a ghost, unspoken but ever-present.

Finally, Chloe exhaled, shaking her head slightly, disappointment etched into her features. “Fine,” she said quietly, her tone resigned. “I’ll make the call.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and left Dylan’s office, the door closing softly behind her.

As the door clicked shut, Dylan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His hands, which had been steady while talking to Chloe, now trembled as he placed them on his desk. The weight of his decision pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating, but he knew he had no other choice.

Kaye.

Her name lingered in his mind, sharp and painful. She was still alive, technically, but she wasn’t here. She was lying in a hospital bed across the city, connected to machines that kept her body functioning but offered no real hope for recovery. It had been months since the accident, and the doctors’ words echoed in his mind every day. "Minimal brain activity. Chances of recovery are slim."

Kaye had been vibrant, full of life. Her passion for the Hotel de Montemayor project had been infectious. But now, she was motionless, her future uncertain. How could he carry on with the publication as if nothing had changed? How could he let her dream come to fruition when she wasn’t even aware of it anymore?

The guilt gnawed at him, relentless and unforgiving. He had tried to push through, to see the project to completion in her honor, but each time he looked at the manuscript, it felt like a betrayal. Completing it felt like admitting that Kaye was gone, and he wasn’t ready for that.

Chloe sat at her desk outside Dylan’s office, staring at her phone in disbelief. The conversation replayed in her mind, each of Dylan’s words more confusing than the last. Why would he want to cancel the project now? She couldn’t make sense of it. Everything about this decision was unlike him. Dylan had always been fiercely committed to his projects, especially this one. He had been by Kaye’s side throughout the entire process. It was Kaye’s dream, yes, but Dylan had embraced it as his own, helping her navigate the publishing world, negotiating deals, making sure every detail was perfect.

And now, without warning, he wanted to walk away from it all.

Chloe picked up the phone, dialing the number for Red Publication, her fingers hesitating over the keypad. She had to do it—Dylan was her boss, and his word was final. But as she listened to the ringing on the other end of the line, her thoughts churned.

Why? What had changed?

The call connected, and Chloe went through the motions, arranging the meeting with the same professionalism she always had, though her mind was miles away. After hanging up, she sat back in her chair, staring at the office door. Something was off, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something important.

The hours dragged on, and Dylan remained in his office, motionless at his desk. The city outside his window carried on as usual, people rushing to and fro, cars honking, the distant hum of life moving forward. But for Dylan, time had stopped months ago. His life had become a loop of hospital visits, empty conversations with doctors, and sleepless nights staring at the ceiling.

He thought of Kaye again—her laugh, her smile, the way her eyes would light up when she talked about her research. She had been everything to him. They had been planning a life together, and now… now she was a shell of the person she had been.

A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Dylan didn’t bother to look up. “Come in.”

Chloe stepped inside, her face a mix of concern and professionalism. “The meeting is set for tomorrow morning with Red Publication,” she said quietly. “They’ll expect you at ten.”

Dylan nodded absently, still not looking at her. His fingers traced the edge of the manuscript on his desk, the pages that held Kaye’s words, her vision.

“Dylan,” Chloe began hesitantly, taking a step closer. “I don’t mean to overstep, but… I have to ask. Why are you doing this? Why are you canceling the project now, after everything?”

Dylan remained silent for a long moment, his hand still resting on the manuscript. Chloe stood there, watching him, waiting for an answer. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I can’t finish it,” he said. “Not without her.”

Chloe’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”